Chapter 3

After I had Sharon, during what should have been my recovery period, I started noticing how Gavin and Jocelyn started treating me like I didn't matter, snapping at me for every little thing.

I tried to get back to work as soon as I could, but Jocelyn kept sabotaging me. One time, I came home from an interview and found Sharon, who was just learning to walk, headfirst in the toilet, choking and nearly passing out, while Jocelyn and her friends were just playing cards in the living room, completely ignoring what was happening.

In the end, I had no choice but to become a full-time stay-at-home mom. Now, it was painfully clear—I had become completely disconnected from the professional world.

My knuckles went white as I clenched the fabric of my pants, my teeth clenched, trying to keep pitching myself. Then I heard that familiar, mocking snicker behind me.

My spine went stiff instantly.

Of course. It was Gavin, swaggering over, taking his sweet time, his voice full of sarcasm.

"Well, look at you. Thought you were hot stuff, huh? Starting to realize how hard it is out here?" he sneered.

"Just admit you were wrong and beg a little, maybe I'll let you crawl back home," he added, his tone full of contempt.

The HR manager stood up immediately, shaking his hand warmly.

"Mr. Bishop, here for the partnership meeting? So good to see you," she said, all warmth and enthusiasm.

Gavin flashed her a professional smile, but as soon as he turned to me, the smug look returned.

He sneered, "Still don't get it? I told you, nobody wants a washed-up housewife your age.

"After a few rough days, you still haven't got the message? You're worth nothing. Just come home with me, and I'll reactivate our joint account and your supplementary credit card.

"Back when I tried to set you straight, you wouldn't listen. Looks like reality had to knock you down a peg."

The HR manager jumped in to back him up.

"Please, just go home. Stop making a scene, go home, and look after your kid. You're making things awkward for everyone—and embarrassing Mr. Bishop," she said, her tone full of disapproval.

I didn't say a word. I walked right up to Gavin, gestured for him to come closer and lower his head.

He thought I was finally about to apologize, and a smug grin crept across his face.

"See? If you had just done this from the beginning, you could've saved us all this..." he started, all cocky.

But I cut him off with a sharp slap that echoed through the room.

I put all my strength into that slap. My hand stung from the impact.

Watching the shock on his face, I couldn't help but smile—a real, genuine smile.

"Gavin, I meant what I said. I'm done with you. I want a divorce," I said, my voice steady and unwavering.

"If you've got your papers with you, we can go to the courthouse right now and get it done," I added, my tone cold and resolute.

His face twisted with fury, and he jabbed a finger at me, grinding his teeth.

"Fine, Julia. You had your chance. Don't come crawling back when you regret it," he snapped.

He stormed out, and as his secretary, Leila Finn, passed by, she gave me a long, meaningful look.

*****

After that, I kept looking for work, but no matter how hard I tried, nothing came through. Maybe it was just bad luck, or maybe Gavin was pulling strings behind the scenes. With rent due soon, I still had no job.

In the end, I had to keep lowering my standards until the only job I could get was working at a small barbecue restaurant. The pay barely covered my rent, but at least it included two meals a day.

At night, I'd carry Sharon around, rushing between tables—serving drinks, clearing plates, washing dishes.

Right next to the restaurant was a Latin dance studio. Whenever I heard that familiar music and saw dancers twirling and leaping inside, my mind would drift. Sometimes, I'd just stand there, watching through the glass, and tears would sting my eyes. That used to be my world.

Those spotlights and that stage once belonged to me.

I'd been obsessed with Latin dance since I was little—the fiery rhythms, the crisp, lively steps, all of it had me hooked. I always knew I had a gift, and my parents poured everything they had into helping me chase my dreams.

After passing my entrance exams, I made it into one of the best dance academies around. Thanks to my skills and looks, I even became the campus queen of the Latin dance department.

Back then, I had everything—a mentor who admired me, a partner who moved with me like we shared one soul, and a future full of promise.

But everything ended abruptly the moment my parents passed away.

While my former classmates were out there chasing trophies and building their careers, I was trapped in my grief, unable to pull myself out. I became moody and short-tempered, hiding in my room and bursting into tears for no reason.

Once I made up my mind to start a business with Gavin, I threw myself into it. I hunted for clients, pitched to investors, and handled all the background work so he could focus. I was so wiped out every day that I'd just pass out as soon as my head hit the pillow.

My dance career pretty much went down the drain. In the end, I never even finished my degree.

I gave up everything I was proud of and became just an extension of Gavin, and I did it all without a second thought.

At first, Gavin was grateful for everything I did, but over time, he started acting like my efforts were just what he deserved.

He'd put his arm around me, like I was a trophy.

"See? You're finally getting it. Back in the old days, dancers were just entertainers, and nobody respected them. You're better off here, helping me build this business. That's what really matters," he said.

But what really made me quit dancing happened at a booze-filled business dinner.

It was a major investment deal that Gavin and I had been grinding on for days, barely sleeping to get everything perfect. The meeting was going well, but right when we were about to sign, their manager cut in.

He had a pudgy face, big ears, and greasy eyes that shamelessly scanned me up and down.

"I heard your wife used to be a Latin dancer, Mr. Bishop. That's actually a passion of mine. Just let her dance with me, and the deal's done," he said.

I was so furious that my hands were shaking. I grabbed my glass, about to throw it in his face, but Gavin stopped me.

His arm was trembling, his jaw clenched so hard that his teeth were grinding, and when he turned to look at me, his eyes were practically begging me.