Chapter 1: The Crash and the Stranger

The day after my divorce was finalized, I crashed my car into a traffic light on 14th Street. When I woke up, the world smelled like bleach and sounded like a heart monitor, the high-pitched beep slicing through the thick, sterile air.

The next few hours unraveled in fragments: beeping monitors, fluorescent lights burning my eyes, the sharp tang of rubbing alcohol. A police officer pressed my purse into my hands at the ER, and someone asked me what day it was. Later, I blinked awake again, grounded only by the soft hum of the TV in my recovery room.

That's when Derek Pierce showed up. He leaned against the doorframe, expression unreadable, and said, "If you could just stop with the drama for once, maybe we could give it another shot."

He tossed out the line like we were picking a place for dinner, not sifting through the ruins of a marriage. His voice was too casual, almost bored. I stared at him, trying to read his face, searching for a flicker of the life I supposedly knew. Did I used to love this man? Did I ever laugh at his jokes? I searched my own face for clues.

I paused, my spoon dripping rocky road onto the hospital tray, not caring about the mess. I let the spoon clink gently against the bowl, a small act of defiance. "No, I think... honestly, just taking the money is fine with me."

He just stared, jaw set, like he'd expected a different answer. The silence between us was sharp and final.