My mother-in-law burst into my penthouse waving a stack of overdue notices and screamed, “Liam, your wife hasn’t paid the property management company in six months!

“Yes,” my attorney replied. “Mara Whitfield. And for the record, Mr. Callahan, I strongly advise you not to touch my client again.”

My silk blouse was torn at the collar. My pulse was steady, but my body had finally begun to recognize what had just happened. A delayed tremor ran through my hands, not from fear, but from the release of months of restraint.

Liam noticed it and tried to use it.

“Olivia,” he said, softening his voice instantly. “Baby, this is insane. I lost my temper. You know I didn’t mean—”

“Stop,” I said.