Beyond Divorce: He Is Not The Same

The moving truck was discreet. Unmarked.

Adelia handed Chris a set of platinum keys. They were standing in the driveway of a modern, glass-walled villa.

"The villa next to Elizabeth's," Adelia said, a wicked grin on her face. "It cost me 50 million. But the look on her face will be priceless."

Chris looked at the property line. A low stone wall and a line of cypress trees were all that separated his new base of operations from the Washington estate.

"It's perfect," Chris said.

He spent the afternoon installing cameras. Not to watch Elizabeth-he didn't care enough to watch her-but to secure his perimeter. He checked the sightlines. He checked the exits.

Across the wall, Elizabeth was lying by her pool. She was trying to read a book, but she hadn't turned a page in twenty minutes.

She heard the roar of an engine. A deep, guttural growl.

She stood up and walked to the edge of her garden. Through the trees, she saw a black Lamborghini pull into the driveway next door.

The door opened. Chris stepped out. He was shirtless.

Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat. He was ripped. Lean, corded muscle defined his torso. Scars crisscrossed his skin, silver lines telling stories she didn't know. When had he gotten those?

Adelia stepped out of the passenger side. She was wearing a bikini top and a sheer sarong. She saw Elizabeth watching.

Adelia waved. It was a lazy, dismissive wave.

Elizabeth slammed her book shut and stormed back into her house. She slammed the sliding glass door so hard the glass rattled.

She went upstairs to her bedroom. She pulled the curtains shut, then peeked through the slit.

She went to her closet and pulled out a drone she had bought for a vacation she never took. Her hands were shaking as she synced the controller.

"I just need to see what they're doing," she muttered to herself. "It's security. That's all."

She flew the drone over the wall. The camera feed showed Chris and Adelia on the terrace. They were drinking champagne.

Chris was sitting in a lounge chair. Suddenly, he looked up. He looked directly into the camera lens of the drone hovering thirty feet above him.

It was impossible. He couldn't have seen it.

Chris stood up. He walked to the edge of the terrace. He looked at the drone, and then he looked at Elizabeth's bedroom window.

"Curiosity killed the cat, Elizabeth," he said. He didn't shout. He just spoke, and somehow, she felt like he was in the room with her.

He reached down and picked up a small, smooth stone from a decorative planter on the terrace. With a casual flick of his wrist, he sent it spinning through the air. It struck one of the drone's rotors with a sharp, sickening crack.

The drone wobbled, its buzzing turning into a high-pitched whine before it tumbled out of the sky and crashed onto the flagstones of his terrace.

The screen on Elizabeth's controller went black. Chris walked over to the wreckage and crushed the main body under the heel of his boot.

Elizabeth dropped the controller. She backed away from the window, her heart racing so fast it hurt. He was a monster. He was a terrifying, beautiful monster, and she had let him out of his cage.

That night, Adelia walked into Chris's study. She was wearing a silk robe.

"The game is getting interesting," she said, leaning against the doorframe.

Chris was looking at files on his computer. The Olson family debt ledgers.

"It's not a game, Adelia," Chris said without looking up. "It's a war."