His arms suddenly felt empty. Before he could react, Amelia had already turned and bolted toward the exit.

Chris’s temper flared instantly. "Don't let her leave!" he commanded, his voice cold and echoing through the hall.

Amelia barely made it to the courtyard before two security guards moved to block her path. They didn't strike her, but their presence was an immovable wall. When she tried to push past, they firmly guided her back toward the living room.

Chris was waiting, leaning back on the sofa with a gaze that made Amelia feel like a chess piece being moved against her will. At that moment, a rage she had suppressed for years finally erupted.

"Let go of me!" she cried, her voice raw. Her eyes were wide, filled with the desperate energy of someone who had reached their breaking point.

The room fell silent. Even Chris seemed taken aback by the sheer intensity of her defiance. He signaled for the guards to step back.

"You shouldn't have run, Amelia," he said, his tone low. "It only complicates things."

Amelia let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Complicates things? For whom? What right do you have to dictate where I go or who I see?"

The feeling of being trapped was suffocating. Chris’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he seemed unable to find an answer that sounded reasonable.

"Because I say so," he finally replied, a dark smile playing on his lips. "Now, come back inside."

"No!" Amelia gritted her teeth. "Chris, I don't love you anymore. Do you understand? I want the divorce finalized. I want to live a life where I don't have to look over my shoulder to see if you're watching."

For a split second, a complex, unreadable emotion flickered in Chris’s eyes. Amelia was gambling—betting that even if he didn't love her, his pride wouldn't allow him to keep a woman who openly despised him.

"Say that again," he whispered.

"I said, I don't love you. I want a future without you. Are you really so desperate that you’d force someone who feels nothing for you to stay?"

"Then who is it?" Chris stood up abruptly, his composure finally cracking. "If not me, then who? Is there someone else?"

Amelia saw the white of his knuckles as he clenched his fists. With a vengeful smile, she threw out the first name she knew would provoke him. "What if there is? What if it's someone like Lucius Howard? At least he treats people with respect."

The mention of Lucius was like a match to a powder keg. Chris moved faster than she could react, catching her arm and pulling her toward him. The intensity in his gaze was terrifying.

"Lucius?" he hissed. "You think he’s your escape? Fine. Let’s go ask him."

Amelia felt a surge of dread. "What are you doing? Chris, stop!"

He didn't listen. He led her out to the car, his movements driven by a reckless, unbridled energy. He got behind the wheel and floored the gas, the engine roaring as they sped toward the city center.

"Chris, I was just trying to get a reaction! Stop the car!" she pleaded as the needle on the speedometer climbed. "You aren't even fully recovered yet! I was wrong to say it, okay? I don't feel that way about him!"

The car suddenly screeched to a halt by the roadside. Amelia lurched forward, but Chris’s arm shot out to steady her. He looked at her, his eyes icy and filled with a pain he refused to acknowledge.

"Get out," he said, his voice a jagged rasp.

Amelia was stunned, but she didn't hesitate. She opened the door and ran, disappearing into the shadows of the evening.

Chris stayed in the car, watching her go. His chest felt tight, a weight pressing down on him that he couldn't explain. He told himself it was just possessiveness—that he simply didn't like losing what was his. But deep down, the silence of the car felt heavier than it ever had before.

That night, Amelia walked through a quiet park with her friend Sophia.

"He’s completely lost his mind," Sophia said, shaking her head after hearing the story. "Does he even know what he wants from you? It’s like he’s obsessed with the idea of you, but doesn't know how to actually be with you."

Amelia looked at the distant city lights. "That’s why I need to leave. He doesn't want me; he just wants to win."

Before she could continue, Sophia’s phone rang. It was Nolan, one of Chris’s associates.

"Is Amelia with you? Chris is at the club," Nolan’s voice sounded frantic. "He’s been drinking despite his medication. He’s in a bad way, and he won't let the medics near him. He keeps calling for her."

Amelia grabbed the phone. "Nolan, he has dozens of people to look after him. Why are you calling me?"

"Because he’s going to end up in the ER if he doesn't stop," Nolan replied. "Please, just come and talk him down."

Amelia hesitated. She remembered the many times Chris had used his health to manipulate her. But the thought of him actually being in danger made her heart ache in a way she couldn't ignore.

"I'll just see if he's okay and come straight back," she told Sophia, ignoring her friend’s warned expression.

The club was an elegant, high-end establishment. Nolan met her at the entrance, his face pale with worry. "He’s in the private suite. He’s been out of control since you left. Go in there, please. You’re the only one he might actually listen to."

Amelia took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy mahogany doors, unaware that she was walking back into the very cage she had just tried to escape.