Chapter 5

Lucy's POV

I left all the designer clothes hanging in the walk-in closet. All I took was my old sweatshirt and worn jeans.

Mrs. Brown watched from the doorway as I packed, her weathered face creased with concern. "Are you sure about this, Mrs. Storm?"

"It's just Lucy now." I handed her an envelope. "The divorce papers are inside. Make sure he gets them."

She clutched the envelope like it might bite. "But Mrs. Sto- Lucy, you're pregnant..."

"That's exactly why I have to leave," I zipped up my duffel bag, calmly saying. I won't let my child grow up in this twisted family."

Uncle Owen's restaurant in Brooklyn felt like stepping into another world. The rich aroma of garlic and tomato sauce replaced the sterile luxury of Central Park West. Sarah, my aunt by marriage, squealed when she saw me.

"Lucy, darling! Finally! I've missed you so much!" She air-kissed both my cheeks, her eyes scanning my outfit with barely concealed disapproval. "But sweetie, what happened to that gorgeous Valentino dress I saw on your Instagram?"

"I left it behind." I set my duffel bag down. "Along with everything else."

"What do you mean?" Her perfectly manicured hand flew to her throat. "Lucy, what's going on?"

"I'm divorcing Ethan."

The words hung in the air like a bomb about to detonate. Sarah's face went through a fascinating series of expressions – shock, horror, and calculation.

"What? Divorce? Did Ethan Storm ask for this?"

"No, I did."

"Are you insane?" She grabbed my arm, her acrylic nails digging in. "The Storms are Wall Street royalty! Do you know how many socialites would kill to be in your position?"

"Let her be, Sarah." Uncle Owen emerged from the kitchen, wiping his hands on his apron. His kind face was a sharp contrast to his wife's carefully Botoxed features. "Lucy, honey, you can stay here with us. We'll take care of you."

"No need." I extracted myself from Sarah's grip. "I'll rent my own place, find a job."

"A job?" Sarah's voice dripped with horror. "But you've been a housewife for three years! And with your... record..."

"I'm a Harvard-trained doctor," I reminded her.

I knew that my life would be very difficult because of my criminal record, but I still tried my best to live well.

"At least stay for lunch," Uncle Owen insisted. "We need to talk about your grandmother's things anyway. That watch she left you-"

"The antique pocket watch?" My hand went to my bag where it was safely tucked away. "Do you know why she gave it to me? She tried to tell me something about my parents before..."

He avoided my eyes. "Your grandmother wanted you to have it. That's all that matters."

The restaurant kitchen was quiet as I helped Uncle Owen prep for dinner service. Sarah had finally stopped alternating between trying to talk me out of the divorce and fishing for gossip about the Storms.

My phone buzzed. Ethan's name flashed on the screen. What did he want again? I picked up the phone.

"Ten minutes," his voice was arctic cold. "Come out now, or you'll regret it."

Ethan's POV

I crushed the divorce papers in my fist, fury coursing through my veins. The memory of Mrs. Brown's words echoed in my mind: "Mrs. Storm has moved out, sir." To Brooklyn, of all places. The idea of my wife hiding in that immigrant neighborhood made my blood boil.

She emerged from that pathetic restaurant, and suddenly, my anger faltered. Even in that ratty sweatshirt, she was breathtaking - her long hair falling loose around her shoulders, red cheeks, and lips, her long legs in those worn jeans. Damn it, my dick hardened.

She was beautiful. Too beautiful to waste away in this shithole.

"Getting comfortable in the slums?" I sneered, but my body tensed at her gaze.

"I want a divorce." Her chin lifted in that defiant way that always made me want to kiss her into submission.

"Stop this childish tantrum and come home." I stalked closer, backing her against the alley wall. Her breath hitched - not in fear, but something else entirely.

"I know you and Ivy-" she said, her voice trembling.

I silenced her with a kiss, rough and demanding. She gasped into my mouth, her body melting against mine despite her protests. Her fingers gripped my arm, nails digging into my skin, a mix of pain and arousal. God, she was intoxicating when she fought back.

"You're mine," I growled against her lips, hand tangling in her hair. Her sweet scent drove me crazy. "Or have you forgotten?"

Her lipstick was smeared, eyes dark with desire despite her anger. The sight made me want to take her right here, against this dirty alley wall, remind her exactly who she belonged to.

"Let me go," she whispered, but her body said something else entirely. "Ethan, please..."

The way she said my name - half plea, half moan - nearly broke my control. But then she shoved me away, her chest heaving.

"I've signed the divorce papers." She turned to leave, but I caught her arm.

"Lucy!" Something close to panic clawed at my chest. "Don't do this."

She yanked free and disappeared back into the restaurant. I slammed my fist into the brick wall, the pain barely registering through my fury.

Fuck the divorce papers. Lucy was my wife. Forever.