Chapter 3

3

There was a long silence on the other end. Then, a wave of angry shouting erupted.

"I told you not to leave! Now you're regretting it? You finally decided to come back!"

His scolding made my nose sting. Tears flooded my eyes, but I couldn't find the words to speak.

Marcus heard my muffled sobs, and his tone softened slightly. "Stop crying. The lead position is gone, but there's still a seat for you. Just come back."

I couldn't stop the tears from falling.

Five years ago, I played "Tristesse"―the song of sadness―not knowing it would become the soundtrack to my life.

It was a song of parting, and it felt like my destiny.

Just then, my phone buzzed with a text from my lawyer.

"Miss Preston, the divorce papers are ready. I've sent them to your email. Please review them."

When I got home, I opened my laptop and printed the documents.

I gripped the pen, my fingers trembling. The tip hovered over the signature line for a long time.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Then, I wrote my name, stroke by stroke.

In that moment, it felt like my heart was being carved open along with the paper. It was a final, cold resolution.

I picked up my phone and called Ethan.

The first time, he declined. The second time, he declined again.

On the third try, he finally picked up. He sounded incredibly annoyed. "What now? Are you done being annoying?"

His cold voice sent a surge of bitterness through me.

I forced myself to stay calm. I didn't want him to hear me shake. "Come home. We need to talk."

He snorted. "I don't have time. If you have something to say, come find me."

I gripped the phone tight. "Fine. Send me the address."

A moment later, the screen lit up with a location.

I grabbed the divorce papers and walked out the door.

The city lights blurred as I drove. My thoughts were a mess, but I felt a strange, eerie sense of calm.

I walked through the loud, crowded hallway of a high-end club. I found the private suite number he had sent.

Before I even pushed the door open, I heard the sounds of laughter and music. I heard a high-pitched giggle―Carly.

I stood at the door, took a breath, and tightened my grip on the folder. Then, I pushed it open.

The neon lights and deafening bass hit me instantly. The air was thick with the smell of expensive whiskey and cigars.

Ethan was leaning back on a leather sofa. Carly was pressed against him, looking smug and sweet.

I stood in the doorway, taking in the scene.

He saw me and his face fell. He looked at me with pure impatience before masking it with a cold stare.