I type only:Always.
Sleep comes like a sentry—alert, light. Morning will bring questions, papers, faces that pretend concern while counting losses. It will also bring Nicole, standing on her own feet, with a man beside her who does not mistake love for possession.
I have fought for emperors and for coin. Tomorrow I stand for something rarer—someone I choose.
Chapter Twenty-One
Nicole
The hotel mirror reflects a woman I barely recognize—not because I look different, but because I’m choosing my armor deliberately instead of letting someone else dress me for battle.
“What are you most afraid of?” Quintus asks quietly as he waits patiently in the chair by the window in my room.
The question cuts straight to the heart of my panic. “That I’ll become small again. That despite everything I’ve learned about myself, I’ll let him make me feel responsible for his choices.” My voice wavers slightly. “That I’ll start apologizing for existing instead of demanding he take accountability.”
He rises, walks to me and places his hands on my shoulders, grounding me as we look into the mirror together. “You are not the woman who left him. Remember who you have become.”
I meet his eyes in the mirror. “Who have I become?”
“One who knows her worth. One who chooses strength though it costs her comfort.”
The reminder makes me straighten my spine. That’s right—I did all those things. I chose to leave Scott, chose to go back to school, chose to learn self-defense, chose to drive to Missouriand spend time, money, blood, sweat, and tears learning to be strong.
And I chose to love a man who makes me bigger instead of smaller.
“He’s going to try to manipulate me,” I warn.
“I know. But manipulation only works on people who don’t recognize it for what it is.” Quintus turns me to face him. “You see his games clearly now. That makes you immune to them.” He slides an errant wisp of hair behind my ear, then pauses as though he’s contemplating a big decision. After a slight smile, he leans in and kisses my cheek. It’s not sexual in any way, just a physical vote of confidence. How could I not fall in love with this man?
I take a deep breath and check my phone. “Time to go face the music.”
“With me at your side,” he says simply, and the words settle something anxious in my chest.
Together. Not me handling Scott’s mess alone while someone else judges my choices. Not me being diminished by association with his failures. Just partnership, support, the quiet strength of having someone in my corner who doesn’t need to control the situation to feel important.
We take the elevator down in comfortable silence, both lost in thought. In the lobby, Quintus offers his arm with old-world courtesy that still makes my heart flutter.
“Ready?” he asks.
“Ready as anyone can be to clean up their ex-husband’s felony.”
His laughter follows us into the Chicago morning.
An hour later, we’re in the lawyer’s office, which is everything I expected—expensive, intimidating, designed to make people feel small. But I’m not the same woman who used to shrink in such places.
Scott is seated at the conference table. His face goes through several expressions when he sees Quintus behind me. Surprise, scheming, and that fake-friendly mask he puts on when he’s trying to gain an advantage.
Something shifts in Quintus’s posture as he studies Scott—a predatory stillness I recognize from the training yard. When he told me about the arena, he mentioned learning to read opponents instantly. Watching him assess my ex-husband, I can see that ancient instinct at work. Whatever he sees in Scott’s demeanor, it’s setting off every alarm he spent decades honing.
“This is Quintus,” I say simply. Scott’s eyes narrow, assessing, but his attorney clears her throat, and Scott seems to decide not to insult anyone at this stage of the discussion.
I’m struck by how diminished he appears—shoulders curved inward, unable to meet anyone’s eyes directly. Is this really the pathetic creature who spent twenty-five years convincing me I was lucky he stayed?
“Nicole, you look wonderful,” he says with false charm. “Divorce clearly agrees with you.”
And so it begins. He’s an ass, but the silver lining is that I have no desire to make things easier for him.
“I’m here for the kids, not for you,” I respond with a crisp efficiency that surprises even me.
