The silverware clinked against fine china—a sharp, surgical sound in the silence of the dining room.Velmira smoothed the cream-colored document sitting between the salt cellar and the carafe of sparkling water. She didn't look up. She didn't need to. She could feel Jorvan’s gaze tracing the line of her jaw, clinical and detached."Three years," Jorvan said, his voice as dry as parchment. "I’ve checked the depreciation on the shared assets. The apartment, the investments, the dog."Velmira tapped her pen against the mahogany. "Barnaby isn't an asset, Jorvan. He’s a golden retriever with a stomach sensitivity.""He’s a liability that requires a monthly upkeep of two hundred credits," Jorvan countered, sliding a ledger toward her. "I’ve calculated the split based on our initial capital contributions. It’s fair."Velmira finally lifted her eyes. They were grey, cold, and utterly devoid of the warmth that had characterized their early courtship. "Fair is a subjective metric. You’re factor

"Drop the trigger, Jorvan. Now."Velmira’s voice wasn't a plea; it was a blade. She stood in the shadow of the stalled sedan, the drone’s spotlight turning her silhouette into a jagged cut-out against the asphalt. Mochi was a dead weight in her arms, his breathing a wet, rattling whistle."They’re going to kill us anyway," Jorvan rasped, his hand hovering over a small, metallic toggle under the bumper. His eyes were wide, bloodshot, fixed on the black sedan idling fifty yards back. "This car is a bomb on wheels. I rigged it for a tactical retreat, not a stalemate.""We aren't dead yet," she spat. "Give me your coat.""My—what?""Your coat. The wool lining. Take it off!"Jorvan didn't argue. He stripped off his tailored blazer, the movement jerky and frantic. Velmira shoved the cat into the makeshift sling, knotting the sleeves around her neck so the animal was pressed firmly against her chest."The drone is tracking the thermal signature of the car," Velmira said, eyes darting to the

"You’re going to be the death of us, Jorvan."The pressure of the cold steel against her nape was enough to keep Velmira perfectly still. Through the ringing in her ears from the flashbang, she could hear the heavy, tactical boots of the men moving through the kitchen, crunching on the glass shards of the fruit bowl."Don't move," the man behind her growled. His voice sounded like gravel grinding in a dryer. "The girl stays alive. The man is negotiable."Jorvan, huddled under the kitchen island with his hands behind his head, let out a sharp, jagged gasp. "I’m not negotiable! I have the login credentials for the secondary server! You can't liquidate the data if you don't have the keys!"Velmira rolled her eyes, even with a gun to her head. "He’s lying. He doesn't know the password. He lost it in the divorce audit.""I did not!" Jorvan hissed back.The man behind Velmira shifted, pressing the barrel harder against her vertebrae. "Enough. Where is the drive?""It’s in the gutter, melted

The silence in the aftermath was worse than the explosion. It was the sound of a vacuum—a world with the air sucked out. Velmira sat amidst the debris of her own life, her skin mapped in grime and jagged red lines. She gripped Mochi’s carrier. It was shattered, but the cat was breathing. A thin, wet, rattling sound."Jorvan," she croaked. The name felt like glass in her throat.Jorvan didn’t move. He was slumped against a rebar-pierced support beam, his head lolling at an unnatural angle."Don't you dare," she hissed, scrambling over the rubble. "You signed a contract. Two weeks of mandatory cohabitation. You don't get to breach that for the sake of a headache."She grabbed his shoulders, shaking him. His body felt heavy, unanchored. His hand fell against the concrete with a dead, hollow thwack."Jorvan!"He let out a sharp, choked gasp, his lungs catching on a lungful of pulverized drywall. His eyes fluttered open—vacant, then frantic, then focused. He looked at the smoking crater wh

"Three years," Jorvan said, his voice as dry as parchment. He didn't look up from the tablet, his thumb rhythmically scrolling through the ledger of their impending ruin. "I’ve checked the depreciation on the shared assets. The apartment, the investments, the cat. It’s a clean break."Velmira tapped her fountain pen against the mahogany table. Click. Click. Click. "Barnaby isn't an asset, Jorvan. He’s a golden retriever with a nervous disposition.""He’s a liability that requires a monthly upkeep of two hundred credits," Jorvan countered, sliding a document toward her. "I’ve calculated the split based on our initial capital contributions. It’s fair."Velmira finally lifted her eyes. They were grey, cold, and utterly devoid of the warmth that had characterized their courtship. "Fair is a subjective metric. You’re factoring in the equity from the first year. We were living in a studio, eating ramen to afford the down payment on this place."Jorvan leaned back, his chair scraping against