Dominic's POV
Mira walks through the front door like a ghost.
Her face is completely blank. No tears. No anger. Just nothing.
That scares me more than screaming would.
"Where's Lily?" she asks quietly.
Mother smiles. "Safe. With people who actually care about her welfare."
"WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER?" Mira's voice cracks on the last word.
"Sign the papers first," Mother says, sliding them across the kitchen table. "Then we'll discuss visitation schedules."
I should stop this. Every instinct I have that isn't completely broken knows this is wrong. But I stand there like a coward while my mother blackmails my wife with our child.
Mira sits down at the table. Her hands shake as she picks up the pen.
"Mira, maybe we should—" I start, but Mother cuts me off.
"Dominic, go upstairs. This is between women."
Like hell it is. "She's my wife. That's my daughter."
"Then ACT like a man who cares about his daughter's future!" Mother snaps. "This girl will destroy everything we've built. Look at her—weak, pathetic, useless. Is that who you want raising a Kane?"
I look at Mira. Really look at her for the first time in months.
She's not crying. She's staring at the papers like they're written in a foreign language. Her fingers trace over Lily's name, and something in my chest twists painfully.
"I want to see her," Mira whispers. "Before I sign. Please. Just let me see my baby."
"No," Mother says flatly. "Sign first."
Mira's hand tightens around the pen. For a second, I think she's going to stab my mother with it. Instead, she starts signing. Her signature is shaky and wrong, not like the careful handwriting I've seen on grocery lists and birthday cards.
She's signing away our daughter, and I'm letting it happen.
Elise leans against me, her hand on my shoulder. "You're doing the right thing," she whispers. "Think about Lily. She needs stability."
But I'm not thinking about Lily. I'm thinking about the crushed cupcakes still on our bedroom floor. Red velvet. Mira must have bought them after the school event, even though her head hurt. Even though she was suffering.
Because that's who she is. Who she was.
"Where is she?" Mira asks again after signing the last page.
Mother takes the papers, checking each signature carefully. "Your father's beach house. She'll stay there with a nanny until we finalize everything."
"That's two hours away." Mira stands up slowly. "When can I see her?"
"We'll arrange supervised visits. Maybe next month, if you behave."
"Next MONTH?" Mira's voice rises. "She's four years old! She'll think I abandoned her!"
"You did abandon her," Mother says coldly. "You chose to break up this family with your jealousy and instability."
Something snaps in Mira's face. Just for a second, I see pure hatred flash across her features. Then it's gone, replaced by that terrible blank expression.
"I need to pack my things," she says quietly.
"Take only what's yours," Mother warns. "Everything else belongs to the Kane family."
Mira walks past me toward the stairs. I follow her, ignoring Mother's protests.
Our bedroom still smells like Elise's perfume. Mira walks straight to the closet and pulls out a small suitcase. She doesn't take the expensive dresses I bought her. She doesn't take the jewelry Mother gave her. She grabs old jeans, T-shirts, a worn sweater.
"Mira, we need to talk—"
"No, we don't." She moves to the dresser and picks up her laptop. The old one she uses for recipes.
"This doesn't have to be like this. We can work something out—"
"You let your mother take my daughter." She finally looks at me, and her eyes are dead. "There's nothing to work out."
"I'm trying to do what's best for everyone—"
"No, you're trying to do what's EASIEST for you." She opens her jewelry box and takes out one necklace—a simple silver chain with a small pendant. Her mother's. The only thing she has from her real family. "You always have."
That hits harder than it should. "That's not fair—"
"Fair?" She laughs, but it's not a real laugh. It's bitter and broken. "You want to talk about FAIR? I gave up everything for you. My job offers. My dreams. My SELF. I made myself into whatever you wanted. And it still wasn't enough."
"I didn't ask you to change—"
"YES, YOU DID!" She's yelling now, tears finally streaming down her face. "Every time you said my clothes were frumpy. Every time you told me to let the professionals handle the business talk. Every time you came home late and barely looked at me. You told me exactly what you wanted—a quiet, invisible wife who wouldn't embarrass you."
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. Because she's right.
"I loved you," she whispers. "I loved you so much I forgot how to love myself. And you didn't even notice."
She zips up her suitcase and walks toward the door.
"Where will you go?" I ask stupidly.
"Away from you." She pauses at the doorway. "Tell Lily... tell her Mommy loves her. Even if she doesn't remember me."
"Mira—"
But she's already walking down the stairs.
I follow her to the front door. Mother is waiting with her lawyer, already discussing next steps. Elise is on her phone, probably texting friends about the drama.
Mira opens the front door and steps outside. She doesn't look back.
The door closes with a soft click.
Just like that, my wife is gone.
I stand there, staring at the closed door. I should feel relieved. Instead, I feel... empty. Like someone just cut something important out of my chest.
"Good riddance," Mother says, filing the custody papers in her briefcase. "Now we can move forward without that dead weight."
Dead weight. Is that what Mira was? The woman who managed my entire household? Who raised my daughter? Who loved me even when I gave her nothing back?
I walk to the window and watch Mira's car pull away. It's an old Honda—not the Mercedes I bought her. When did she get a different car?
What else about my wife did I never notice?
My phone buzzes. Text from my CFO: "Emergency. Someone's accessing our secure servers. Need you in the office NOW."
I frown. "Who?"
"Don't know. Best hacker I've ever seen. They're in EVERYTHING—financial records, client data, proprietary designs. We can't stop them."
My blood runs cold. I look at Mother. "Did you change all the passwords? Cut off Mira's access?"
Mother waves her hand dismissively. "She had access to the household accounts. Nothing important."
"NOTHING IMPORTANT?" I'm shouting now. "She's been married to me for five years! She knows every password I use! She's been in our house, our computers—"
"Calm down, Dominic. That mouse couldn't hack her way out of a paper bag."
But I'm remembering something. A conversation years ago, before we got married. Mira mentioning she graduated top of her class in computer science. Me laughing and saying she wouldn't need that anymore.
Did she forget those skills?
Or did she just stop showing them to me?
Another text from my CFO: "Whoever this is just downloaded five years of financial records. Everything. And Dominic... they found the offshore accounts. The ones from the Patterson deal."
The Patterson deal. The one that wasn't exactly legal. The one that could send me to prison if anyone found out.
My hands start shaking.
"What's wrong?" Elise asks, seeing my face.
I try calling Mira. Her number is disconnected. Already.
I try her email. Bounces back.
It's like she never existed.
Except she did exist. And she knows everything.
My phone buzzes again. This time it's an email from an unknown sender. No subject line. Just a message:
"You took my daughter. I took your secrets. Let's see who has more to lose. - Your Useless Wife"
Attached are screenshots. Bank records. Hidden transactions. Emails about the Patterson deal. Evidence of fraud, tax evasion, corporate espionage.
Everything I've ever done wrong, compiled in one neat file.
And at the bottom, one more line:
"The FBI gets these tomorrow unless Lily is returned to me by midnight. Your choice."
I drop my phone.
Mother picks it up, reading the message. Her face goes white. "She's bluffing."
But I know Mira. The old Mira would never threaten anyone. She'd cry and apologize and accept whatever we gave her.
This Mira? The one who walked out without looking back?
She's not bluffing.
She's declaring war.
And I just realized we brought a knife to a gunfight.
My phone rings. Unknown number. I answer it with shaking hands.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Kane." It's Mira's voice, but different. Colder. "You have twelve hours to bring my daughter home. Twelve hours before I destroy everything you've ever built. The choice is yours."
"Mira, please—"
"It's not Mira anymore." There's something terrifying in her voice. "That woman died today. I'm what's left."
The line goes dead.
I look at Mother. At Elise. At the lawyer still holding those custody papers.
"We need to return Lily," I say quietly. "Now."
Mother laughs. "She won't actually—"
My computer dings. I run to my office. There's an email in my inbox from Kane Enterprises' main client—Marcus Tech. Subject line: "Contract Terminated."
I open it, my heart pounding.
"Dear Mr. Kane, we've received disturbing information about your business practices. Effective immediately, we are ending our partnership. Our lawyers will contact you regarding the breach of contract lawsuit."
Five minutes. Mira made one threat, and five minutes later, our biggest client is gone.
Another email comes in. Then another. Then another.
All clients. All terminating contracts.
My company is hemorrhaging money in real-time.
My phone buzzes one final time. Another message from Mira:
"Eleven hours and fifty-five minutes. Tick tock."