Lila's pov
I needed a lawyer. A good one. Preferably someone who specialized in handling rich, possibly unhinged spouses with a penchant for violence over any related betrayals.
Unfortunately, my first attempt at googling "How to divorce a man before he murders you" only led to true crime forums and a concerning number of cake recipes.
Not helpful.
I sighed and scrolled further until I found a law firm with a promising tagline: "Discreet, Efficient, and No Judgment."Perfect.
I dialed the number.
Two hours later, I sat across from Attorney Daniel Park, a sharply dressed man in his thirties who had just choked on his coffee after hearing my opening line.
"So, just to clarify," he wheezed, wiping his mouth, "you want to divorce your husband of three days, because… in the future, he 'might'kill you?"
"Will kill me," I corrected. "Over something ...me trying to kill his family member... supposedly ."
Daniel blinked. "Supposedly ?"
"Yes..I really don't have a clue what is going on but I want out of this marriage."
He stared at me like I'd just confessed to being a time-traveling alien. "Mrs. Cross, with all due respect… do you need a therapist instead of a lawyer?"
Fair question.
I leaned forward. "Look, I get it. This sounds insane. But trust me, I need this divorce. Name your price."
He hesitated, then sighed, flipping open a notepad. "Fine. Let's start with the basics. Grounds for divorce?"
"Future attempted murder."
"Not a legal category."
"Uh… irreconcilable differences?"
"Better." He scribbled something down. "Any prenup?"
"Yes, but..."
"Then this might take time. Especially since your husband is Adrian Cross." He said the name like it carried weight. "The man could tie this up in court for years if he wants to."
I groaned. "So what's the fastest way?"
Daniel smirked. "Annulment. If you can prove the marriage was never consummated..."
"Nope." My face burned. "Next option."
"Then we're back to divorce. I'll draft the papers, but you'll need to serve him."
I swallowed hard. Right. Tell Adrian I want out.
Easy.
Totally not terrifying.
That evening, I rehearsed my speech in the mirror.
"Adrian, this isn't working." (Too vague.)
"I want a divorce." (Too blunt.)
"I know you'll kill me in six years, so let's skip the middleman." (…Too insane.)
Before I could settle on an approach, the man himself strolled into the bedroom, holding two glasses of wine.
"You've been acting weird all day," he said, handing me one. "Talk to me."
Oh no. The 'concerned husband' act.
I took the wine and gulped half of it in one go. "I've just been… thinking about us."
His brows furrowed. "What about us?"
Here goes nothing.
"Maybe we… rushed into this." I gestured between us. "Marriage. It's a big step. What if we're not right for each other?"
Adrian's expression softened. "Lila, we've known each other for years. I've loved you since the day you spilled coffee on me at that café."
Damn it.That was a good memory.
"But what if you change?" I pressed. "What if I change?"
He chuckled, stepping closer. "Then we'll figure it out. Together."
Ugh. Why did he have to say the perfect things?
I opened my mouth to argue,when his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen, frowned, and silenced it. "Work can wait."
But I'd already seen the caller ID.
Victor Hale.
My blood ran cold.
Victor. Adrian's business partner in my past life. The one who'd egged him on before my balcony incident. ("She disrespected you, Adrian. No one crosses you and gets away with it.")
And now, he was calling. Already.
Adrian misread my panic. "Hey, it's okay. I'm not going anywhere." He cupped my face. "Unless you want me to."
I stared into his eyes,warm, sincere, not yet a murderer's and felt my resolve waver.
Was I overreacting?
Then I remembered the wind rushing past me as I fell.
No. I wasn't.
The next morning, I woke up to Adrian grinning like a kid on Christmas.
"I have a surprise for you," he said, pulling me out of bed.
"If it's cake, I'm not hungry."
He laughed. "Better."
Ten minutes later, we stood in front of a sleek downtown building. A sign read: "Montgomery Arts Studio."
I froze. "What… is this?"
"Your studio." He beamed. "You've always talked about wanting your own space to paint. Now you have it."
My throat tightened. This was the studio I'd dreamed of in my past life ,the one Adrian had dismissed as a "hobby" before slowly isolating me from everything I loved.
But now…
Now he was handing me the keys.
Who even is this man?