Chapter 11
Zane stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, the cigarette between his fingers burned down to the filter, unnoticed.
His assistant’s call came at 2 AM.
“Mr. Blackthorn. We have Ms. Sterling’s address.”
He crushed the stub. “Send it.”
Nova’s new apartment was in a weathered house. Narrow stairs. No elevator.
Zane stood before the scarred door, brow furrowed. She picked this dive? The woman who’d lounged in Blackthorn’s
penthouse was now holed up in some cracked-wall walkup.
He knocked. Three precise, commanding raps.
Light footsteps approached. A lock clicked.
Nova opened the door. Her eyes widened, shock freezing her for a heartbeat.
She wore faded sweatpants and an old sweater, her hair loosely tied back. Stripped of her usual polish, her raw
vulnerability was arresting.
Zane’s gaze lingered a fraction too long before hardening. “Nova, explain this dump choice. Provocation theater?”
Nova’s fingers tightened on the doorframe. Her voice stayed level. “Mr. Blackthorn. To what do I owe this?”
“To what?” He scoffed, shouldering past her into the cramped space.
The studio apartment was tiny but immaculate. Design textbooks lay open on a thrifted coffee table beside a steaming mug of black tea.
The sight pricked Zane’s raw nerves. “Couldn’t wait to flee the gilded cage once the ink dried?” He turned, looming over
her. “Afraid I’d change my mind?”
Nova closed the door softly. “The contract expired. We divorced. That was always the plan.”
“Was it?” He took a predatory step closer. “Then why leave the check?”
Her eyes lifted to his. Clear. Unflinching. The clarity stung.
“Unnecessary,” she said softly. “I want nothing of yours.”
The words were a dull blade, sawing into his chest.
He stared, a cold smile twisting his lips. “Nova Sterling. Did you truly believe divorce meant escape?”
Her brow creased slightly. “What’s your Meaning?”
“Come back,” he commanded, the words dropping like stones. “The title of Mrs. Blackthorn is still yours.”
Silence thickened the small room.
Chapter 11
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Nova stared, then a short, incredulous laugh escaped her. “Back? To do what? Shield your affair with Ivy from the public
eye?”
“My relationship with Ivy is none of your concern.”
“Precisely.” Nova nodded, her gaze locking onto his restless anger. “So by what right do you demand my return?”
Zane faltered.
Right?
They were divorced.
The realization settled like a physical weight on his lungs.
“Nova,” his voice dropped, dangerous. “Don’t test me.”
Nova watched him in silent, a flicker of amused detachment lit her eyes. How pathetically predictable.. Three years. Still
the king commanding his subject.
“Mr. Blackthorn,” her voice sharpened, each word deliberate. “We. Are. Finished.”
Zane’s pupils contracted.
His phone buzzed, shattering the tension.
Ivy glowed on the screen.
Nova’s gaze flicked to it, a chuckle escaped her. “Your heart’s desire calls, Mr. Blackthorn.”
Zane’s glare didn’t waver, but his thumb swiped accept.
“Zane~” Ivy’s honeyed voice oozed from the speaker. “Where are you? I can’t sleep… I miss you…”
His eyes remained locked on Nova’s impassive face. His voice softened artificially. “Tying up loose ends. I’ll be late.”
Nova turned away, gazing at the blank wall.
“Don’t be too long…” Ivy purred.
The call ended. Zane’s hand shot out, fingers closing hard around Nova’s chin, forcing her to face him.
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