“Did you want to make an appointment, Lauren?” Sylvia, the receptionist, asks as I hurry past her desk.

“No, I’ll call. Thanks.”

I can’t get to my car fast enough. Why did I think Ty would help me? No one will help me.

All the connections I have in this town, all the money I have, and that asshole is still making my life a living hell.

I drive home in a daze, and when I pull up behind a shiny black Jaguar, my heart sinks further.

Today fucking sucks.

I pull my cell phone out of my bag, prepared to call for help if need be, and climb out of my car. I walk briskly past him and up the steps to the front door.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

“I told you not to come here, Jack. I don’t want to see you.” How can he still make me so damn nervous?

“Aww, don’t be like that, baby. You’re making this so much harder than it needs to be.”

I round on him, shocked and pissed all over again. “I’m the one making this hard?” I shake my head and laugh at the lunacy of this situation. “I don’t want you here. The divorce has been final for weeks now, and you have no business being here. And now you’re going to fucking sue me?”

He loses his smug smile and his mouth tightens as his brown eyes narrow. “No, I’ll tell you what will make it easy, Lauren. You paying me what’s rightfully mine is what will make it easy. You hid that money from me, and I’m entitled to half.”

“I’ll never pay you off, you sonofabitch.” I’m panting and glaring, so fucking angry.

“Oh, honey, I think you will.” He moves in close and drags his knuckles down my cheek. I jerk my head away, but he grabs my chin in his hand, squeezing until there’s just a bit of pain. “Or maybe I’ll just come back here and claim what’s mine. You are still mine, you know.”

My stomach rolls as he runs his nose up my neck, sniffing deeply. Every part of me stills. What the fuck is this?

“A man has the right to fuck his wife whenever he pleases.”

“I’m not your wife,” I grind out, glaring at him as he pulls back and stares me in the face.

He flashes an evil grin and presses harder against me. “You’ll always be mine. No piece of paper can change that.”

I don’t answer, but instead just continue to glare at him in hatred.

“Maybe you should just go ahead and write that check.”

He pushes away from me and backs down the stairs toward his flashy car, a car he bought with my parents’ money, and snickers as he looks me up and down. “You’ve kept that hot body of yours in shape, Lo. It’s mighty tempting.”

I swear I’m going to throw up.

I can’t answer him. I can only stand here and glower, shaking in rage and fear, as he winks again and hops in his Jag and drives away.

Jesus Christ, he just threatened to rape me. I might not be able to prove it, but I knew what his words meant.

I let myself into the house and reset the alarm with shaking fingers. I take off in a sprint to the back of the house and heave into the toilet, over and over until there’s nothing left and my body shivers and convulses in revulsion.

How can someone who once claimed to love me be so damn evil?

When the vomiting has passed, I rinse my mouth and head to the indoor pool that my parents had built when I was on the swim team in high school. I strip out of my clothes, but before I pull my swim cap on, I dial a familiar number on my phone and wait for an answer.

“Hull.” Brad is a police detective in town, and someone I trust implicitly.

“It’s Lauren.”

“Hey, sugar, what’s up?”

“Jack just left.”

“What did that son of a bitch want?” Brad’s voice is steel.

“He threatened me.” My voice is shaky and I hate myself for sounding so vulnerable. “I want it documented that he was here.”

“Did you record it, Lo?”

“No. I wasn’t expecting it. He’s been an asshole in the past, but this is the first time he’s come out and threatened me since he . . .” I pace beside the pool, unable to finish the sentence.

“That’s because I put the fear of God and jail time in him.” Brad is quiet for a moment. “Is there anything you need?”

I laugh humorlessly and shake my head. “Yeah, I need my asshole ex to go away. But for now I’ll settle for a swim.”

“Keep your alarm on. Call me if you need me.”

“I will. Thanks, Brad.”

“Anytime, sugar.”

We ring off. I tuck my long, auburn hair into my swim cap and then dive into the Olympic-size lap pool. The warm water glides over my naked skin, and I begin the first of countless laps, back and forth, across the pool. Swimming is one of two things in this world I do well, and it clears my head.

I do some of my best thinking in the pool.

Is all of this worth it? I ask myself. When I married Jack almost five years ago, I was convinced that he was in love with me and that we’d be together forever. He’d been on my swim team in college. He was handsome and charming.

And unbeknownst to me, he’d been after my money all along.

My parents were still alive then, and even they had fallen for his charms. My father had been a brilliant businessman and had done all he could to convince me to have Jack sign a prenuptial agreement so in the event of a divorce, Jack couldn’t stake any claim to my sizable trust fund.