Chapter 6

"I signed it." Victoria walked in and sat down across from him. "Dad, how big is the company's funding gap right now?"

Edward's smile froze on his face.

In the end, Edward still didn't tell his daughter the truth.

"It's nothing major. Cash flow's just a little tight right now. It'll pass." He poured her a cup of tea, but when he pushed it across the desk, his hand was trembling a little.

Victoria looked at that hand and didn't call him out on it.

In her last life, her father had been diagnosed with high blood pressure years earlier, and she hadn't known. Later, her mother told her that during those years, he couldn't sleep at night, his hair fell out in clumps, and in the end he just couldn't hold on anymore.

"Dad, I signed the divorce papers," Victoria said.

Edward nearly dropped his teacup. "You signed? And walked away with nothing?"

"No. I took everything that was mine."

Edward was quiet for a while before letting out a sigh. "Vicky, I never wanted you marrying into the Foster family in the first place. Stephen Foster is too calculating. You were never going to be able to handle a man like that."

"I know." Victoria lifted her cup and took a sip. The tea was a little bitter. "Dad, I'm planning to move back home for a while."

"Move back? Didn't you say you were used to living with the Fosters..."

"That house isn't my home anymore."

Edward looked at his daughter and couldn't shake the feeling that something about her had changed. The old Victoria used to light up whenever she talked about Stephen. It was that bright-eyed, girlish sort of admiration. But now, when she spoke his name, her eyes were flat, like still water, like a mirror that reflected no emotion at all.

"Alright. Your mom was just talking about you last month, saying you never come home for dinner anymore." Edward stood up and walked to the window. "Vicky, if you don't want to stay here, I've got an empty apartment by the river. You can take that one."

Victoria thought it over. "Let's leave the apartment for now. I'll stay at home."

She wanted to spend time with her parents. In her last life, she lost that chance. In this life, she didn't want to waste even a single day.

By the time she came out of the office, it was already dark. Victoria took a cab back to Foster Villa. The moment she stepped inside, the servants looked at her differently. News sure traveled fast. The whole Foster household had probably already heard that Mrs. Foster had signed the divorce agreement and would be leaving soon.

Victoria didn't care about those looks.

She went upstairs, entered the master bedroom, and started packing her things.

Though honestly, there wasn't that much to pack. She'd already transferred out the valuables during the day. What remained were just some clothes, shoes, bags, and a few books she'd never finished.

She opened the closet and saw a dark blue men's cashmere coat hanging in the innermost corner. She'd gone all over the mall looking for it for Stephen last winter. It had cost over 6,000 dollars, paid for on her own card. Stephen had never worn it once. He'd said the color was too dark and didn't match the rest of his wardrobe.

Victoria took the coat down, folded it, and set it on the bed. Then, after a moment's thought, she picked it back up and tossed it into the laundry basket.

Forget it. No point keeping it.

She kept packing and found a stack of photos in one of the drawers. They were from their wedding day. She was in a white wedding dress, smiling so brightly that her eyes curved into crescents. Stephen stood beside her with a faint, detached expression, like he was just completing another work assignment.

Back then, the photographer had said, "Groom, give us a smile," and Stephen had barely tugged at the corners of his mouth. Looking at it now, even she thought the smile looked awkward as hell.

Victoria looked through the photos one by one, then tossed every last one of them into the trash can.

"Mrs. Foster, Mr. Foster is back," a maid said from outside the door.

Victoria answered and kept packing. She heard footsteps coming from downstairs, leather shoes tapping against marble, drawing closer and closer.

When Stephen appeared in the bedroom doorway, Victoria was crouched on the floor, stuffing things into a suitcase.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Moving out." Victoria didn't even look up.

Stephen walked in and stopped behind her, looking down at the suitcase packed to the brim. His gaze swept around the room before landing on the discarded wedding photos in the trash.

"You're throwing those photos away?"

"What else would I do with them?" Victoria zipped the suitcase shut, stood up, and faced him.

Stephen was a head taller than she was. Back then, standing in front of him always made her tip her face up like a child staring at the stars. But now when she looked up at him, there was no admiration, no love, not even hatred in her eyes.

"Victoria." Stephen said her name in that low voice of his, with the lingering hum of a cello note. She used to love hearing him say it like that. It had sounded beautiful, affectionate even. Now it was just a man's voice. Nothing more.

"Stephen, the divorce papers are signed. It's all in writing. From now on, you take your road and I'll take mine." Victoria pulled up the handle of her suitcase. "Oh, right. I'll send someone tomorrow to pick up the rest of my things. And don't let Ms. Sinclair come around. I'm afraid I might laugh if I see her."

"Laugh at what?"

"At her for picking up what I threw away."

Stephen's eyes darkened. "Do you really have to talk like that?"

"Like that?" Victoria tilted her head. "Stephen, when you were screwing your secretary, did it ever occur to you that what you did was ten thousand times uglier than anything I'm saying now?"

Stephen said nothing.

Victoria dragged her suitcase toward the door. As she passed him, she paused for a second. She caught the scent of his cologne. Tom Ford Oud Wood. The one she'd bought for him.

"When I bought that cologne, I thought it smelled great. Thought it suited you. Looking back now, oud wood really is perfect for you. Bitter and heavy, just like you."

After saying that, she dragged her suitcase downstairs.

Stephen stood in the bedroom, listening to the suitcase wheels rumble over the floorboards, then down the stairs, then across the marble threshold, until finally the sound disappeared beyond the villa's front door.

He walked over to the window and saw Victoria lifting the suitcase into a cab. She bent down and got in. The door shut, the taillights flared red, and the car slowly drove out of the villa compound.

The streetlights stretched her shadow long and thin before it vanished around the corner.

And for the first time, Stephen suddenly felt like something had really left.