Chapter 1

1.

On our fifth wedding anniversary, I found an old iPhone in Elias's private safe.

The passcode was his first love's birthday.

Inside, I found a complete record of their past―sweet text messages and photos, all perfectly preserved.

Meanwhile, his current iCloud Photos didn't have a single picture of me.

My fingers scrolled through the old chat logs, my chest tightening―not with anger, but with a cold, sharp clarity that had taken far too long to arrive. He had never deleted her. For five years, he had just hidden her better.

"Seriously, Chloe? Going through my things?"

I turned to see the man standing at the study door. He leaned against the frame, arms crossed, his face a mask of contempt and indifference.

"This is pathetic, even for you."

I didn't scream or throw a fit.

I just said, calmly, "I want a divorce."

Elias performed a factory reset on the phone right in front of me, his expression as cold as if he were handling some unimportant document.

"Satisfied?" he asked, tossing the phone back into the safe. His voice was laced with irritation. "Are you going to keep this up?"

I looked at his impatient face, a sharp pain stabbing through my heart. I repeated, my voice firm, "Let's get a divorce, Elias."

…

"Alright, stop it."

Elias frowned, unbuttoning his suit jacket with a show of annoyance.

"Listen, once the fourth-quarter reports are done, I'll take you to Aspen. I promise."

I didn't respond.

A smirk played on his lips, full of his usual careless arrogance. He tapped my forehead lightly with his finger.

"For real this time."

I almost laughed.

"For real this time"―so he knew how many empty promises he'd made before.

The Aspen ski trip he'd promised had been postponed year after year. For our movie dates, I was always the one standing alone outside the AMC theater, holding a bucket of popcorn until the show started. He'd say he'd pick me up, but I'd be left standing in a downpour, never seeing the shadow of his black Mercedes.

When it came to me, Elias always broke his promises.

And now, he thought saying those words was some kind of grand gesture, a reward.

"I don't need it," I said, taking a deep breath and repeating myself firmly. "Elias, I want a divorce."

This time, the warmth vanished from his eyes, replaced by a cold fury. His patience was gone.

"You know what, Chloe? You're being completely unreasonable."

"Go to Aspen or don't. I don't give a shit. I made the offer."

"Don't say I never keep my word."

With that, he grabbed his coat from the sofa and turned to leave.

He didn't even touch the steak dinner I had carefully prepared just the way he liked it.

I said nothing.

For the first time, I didn't chase after him, didn't beg him to stay, not even for one more minute.

Elias paused at the door, glancing back at me.

I had already sat down and was calmly cutting into my steak.

He slammed the door shut.

It was a sound of fury, as if he were venting some unknown rage.

My heart didn't ache anymore. It was just an empty, barren wasteland.

I used to think that a high-and-mighty Wall Street elite like Elias was above the mundane tasks of everyday life.

But it turns out he would gladly put on an apron for the girl he loved, just to hear her say his cooking was delicious.

The cuts on his hands, the blisters from hot pans―they were like medals of love.

He had even posted such childish Stories:

"Cooking for someone you care about just hits different."

"Gotta cook for Selena every day, give her no reason to leave. Learn all her favorite foods so she can't live without me."

Seeing those archived posts was the first time I truly understood.

What a fucking joke I'd been.