Chapter 3

On the morning of my departure, I took one final look around the apartment.

When I first moved in three years ago, the place felt immense.

A two-thousand-square-foot loft, decorated strictly to Nathan's taste—minimalist, stark grays and whites, cold as ice.

I used to try adding warm touches: plush throw pillows, cozy rugs, vases of fresh blooms.

Every time Nathan saw them, his brow would furrow. "It's too cluttered."

Eventually, I stopped.

This home existed entirely for his comfort, and so did I.

I cooked the meals he enjoyed, wore the colors he preferred, appeared whenever he needed me, and faded into the background when he didn't.

Three years of marriage, and I had turned myself into his personal accessory.

Worn when convenient, tossed into a drawer when not.

Now, I had opened that drawer.

And I was leaving him behind in it.

Pulling my suitcase to the foyer, I glanced back at the living room.

On the coffee table sat an unopened bottle of prenatal vitamins prescribed by the doctor last week.

Beside it lay my medical chart with my name printed on the front.

I picked it up and flipped through the pages.

The last page contained the physician's handwritten note: High-risk pregnancy. Triplets. Thin uterine lining. Fetal reduction to a singleton or twins strongly recommended, otherwise late-term maternal-fetal risks remain critical.

I tore that page out, folded it neatly, and slipped it into my handbag.

I placed the chart back on the table.

The door clicked shut behind me.

In the elevator, I ran into Mrs. Higgins from the floor below. Seeing my luggage, she paused.

"Valerie, heading out on a business trip?"

"No."

"Then..."

"I'm heading back to my parents' place."

Her face showed a flicker of quiet understanding, and she didn't pry further.

Stepping out of the residential complex, a black luxury sedan was already waiting by the curb.

The driver stepped out and held the door open for me.

"Ms. Vance, the Chairman sent me to pick you up."

"Take me to the airport first."

"Right away, ma'am."

As the car pulled away from the curb, I looked back through the window.

The apartment complex where I had lived for three years shrank rapidly, turning into a speck before vanishing behind the street corner.

My phone buzzed.

A text from Nathan: "I have a business dinner tonight. Book our usual spot at the restaurant for me."

He still didn't even realize I was gone.

Or perhaps he simply didn't care whether I was there or not.

I typed a single word: "Okay."

Then I sent a message to Maya: "Can you make a reservation at Nathan's usual restaurant under his name?"

Maya fired back: "You're literally walking out on him and you're still making his dinner reservations?"

"One last time."

"Fine. What time is your flight?"

"Three this afternoon."

"Text me when you land."

"Will do."

When I reached the airport, there were still two hours before boarding.

I sat in the private lounge, scrolling through my phone.

Chloe had posted again.

This time on Twitter.

Hardly anyone followed her account, but I did.

She had shared a picture of Nathan's car keys resting on her coffee table, captioned: "He told me he's leaving this car with me from now on so he can drive me to and from classes whenever I need!"

A comment underneath read: "Your friend treats you so well!"

Chloe replied: "Right? Better than an older brother!"

I saved the screenshot.

Not to use right now, but for later.

The lounge door swung open.

A man in a sharp charcoal suit stepped inside. He was around forty, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and holding a leather portfolio.

Catching sight of me, he paused before walking over.

"Ms. Vance? The Chairman sent me to pick you up at the apartment, but since you had already left, I came straight to the terminal."

The Chairman.

Not Nathan, but Vance Enterprises' Vice President, Mr. Parker.

"Mr. Parker." I stood up.

"The Chairman asked me to hand this to you personally." He offered the portfolio. "These are the group's financial statements from the past three years, alongside an overview of major projects. He thought you might want to review them."

I took the portfolio and skimmed through it.

It was thick, several hundred pages long.

"My dad expects me to read all of this on the plane?"

Mr. Parker smiled faintly. "The Chairman mentioned you've always been a remarkably fast reader. He said three hours would be plenty for you."

I didn't argue and placed the documents into my bag.

"One more thing," he lowered his voice. "The Chairman wanted me to let you know that he has already begun making arrangements regarding Nathan Cross."

"Arrangements for what?"

"Three of his firm's largest corporate clients are subsidiaries of Vance Enterprises. The Chairman intends to pull all funding and terminate the contracts."

I looked at Mr. Parker.

"Did my dad say why?"

"He did. He said now that his daughter is coming home, there's no reason to keep feeding an outsider."

I stayed silent for a few moments.

So for the past three years, my father had been quietly pumping resources into Nathan's business?

Nathan's company had expanded to its current scale, and all this time I thought it was his own doing.

It wasn't.

It was my father using Vance Enterprises' clout to hold up the sky for him.

And why?

Just so I would have an easier life in that marriage.

He was terrified that if Nathan's business collapsed, I would suffer along with him.

"I understand," I said to Mr. Parker. "Please tell my father to hold off on pulling the contracts until I return. There's no rush."

Mr. Parker studied me for a second, then nodded.

The boarding call sounded overhead.

I rose, took my carry-on, and walked toward the gate.

Passing a mirrored wall, I caught a glimpse of my reflection.

A black wool coat, flat loafers, hair pulled back into a low ponytail.

My complexion looked pale, my lips washed out.

The early morning sickness hadn't passed yet; every morning started with a violent bout of nausea.

This morning, while I was dry-heaving over the toilet, Nathan had shouted from the bedroom, "Can you keep it down? I'm still trying to sleep!"

I hadn't said a word.

After rinsing my mouth, I came out to find him already asleep again.

I had stood beside the bed, watching him for a few seconds.

When he was asleep, he didn't look quite so cold. His brow was relaxed, his lips slightly parted.

Three years ago, that very face had fooled me.

I thought he was just tough on the outside and soft on the inside. I thought that with enough time, he would eventually hold me in his heart.

Three years.

His heart had room for plenty of people.

Chloe, his buddies, his mother, his company.

Just never for me.