Chapter 2

Andrew came home hours later, whistling. He found me in our bedroom, a half-packed suitcase open on the bed.

He dropped his briefcase by the door, a look of annoyance on his face.

"What is this, Gabby? A little tantrum?"

He walked over and picked up a silk blouse from the suitcase, dangling it from his finger.

"Molly told me about the photo mix-up. She cried for an hour, you know. You really overreacted."

I didn't look at him. I just kept folding my clothes, placing them neatly in the suitcase.

"It wasn't a mix-up, Andrew."

"Oh, for God's sake," he scoffed, tossing the blouse back onto the bed. "It was a stupid mistake. Are you really going to throw away everything we've built over a few pictures?"

I finally stopped packing and turned to face him. I walked over to my purse and pulled out the folded documents my lawyer had couriered over. I held them out to him.

"What's this?" he asked, snatching them from my hand.

He unfolded the papers. His eyes scanned the first page, and a slow, arrogant smirk spread across his face.

"Divorce papers? Are you serious?"

He laughed. It wasn't a nice sound. It was the laugh he used in debates when his opponent made a point he found pathetic.

"You're divorcing me? Gabrielle, have you forgotten who you are? Who I am? I saved you. I took you out of the system. I gave you this life."

He waved his hand around our expensive apartment, the one his adoptive parents paid for.

"You think you can just walk away?"

He took the papers and, with a theatrical flourish, ripped them in half, then in half again, letting the pieces flutter to the floor between us.

"There. All better. Now stop this nonsense. The wedding is in two days. We have donors flying in."

I looked at the torn pieces of paper on the floor, then back at his smug face. The man I once loved, the boy I grew up with in the foster home, was gone. In his place was this stranger, this arrogant product of the Scott family's money and influence.

"The wedding is off, Andrew," I said, my voice quiet but firm.

"You're free to marry Molly. It seems you've already done the press photos for it."

His face changed. The smirk vanished, replaced by a flash of cold fury. He took a step toward me, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper.

"You listen to me. If you walk out that door, you are walking away from everything. The Scott family. The money. The connections. You'll be a nobody again, just like you were when I found you."

He expected me to cry. To beg. To back down like I always did.

I didn't.

I picked up my suitcase, zipped it closed, and walked past him towards the door.

I didn't say a word. I didn't need to. The silence was my answer.