Ruby
The elevator ride to the penthouse felt like a descent into a past life. Every floor it passed was another memory of the woman I used to be—the woman who believed that love was a shield, that a vow was a fortress, and that Alexander Ray was the man who would always stand on the other side of it. When the doors slid open, the apartment was silent. It was a cavern of marble, designer leather, and the heavy, expensive scent of sandalwood and regret.
I didn't head for the master suite. I headed for the guest wing, pulling out the three large suitcases I’d kept in the back of my closet—the ones I’d used for our honeymoon. The irony wasn't lost on me. I started methodically, stripping the room of my presence. It wasn't an emotional purge; it was a surgical one. I folded my clothes, pac
