Chapter 3
The day I got discharged, Cole showed up in a van to pick me up. As soon as I got in, he started ranting.
He said, "I swear, I just walked into the hospital and saw Andrew buying food for Sophie. She's not even really hurt, just putting on a show."
"Just drop it, Cole. I'm getting divorced soon anyway," I said.
Inside the car, Cole reached over and touched my belly, looking worried as he asked, "So if you get divorced, what happens to the baby?"
I looked out the window, feeling the evening breeze on my face, and said, calm as ever, "The baby's mine. I'll handle it myself.
"I'm not even thinking about abortion right now. That's me taking responsibility for myself."
I smiled at Cole, and I could see admiration sparkling in his eyes as he praised me.
"Vivian, you really are my big sis. We're awesome all on our own," he said.
When we got to the house I shared with Andrew, I got a few maids to help me pack up my things.
As we were going through the wedding photo frames, one of the maids hesitated and asked, "Mrs. Lane, do you want to toss all these wedding photos?"
As I walked over, hand on my belly, I saw our fake happy smiles staring back at me. The irony was just too much. I stomped on the frame, shattering it.
"Get rid of them all," I said coldly.
While I was sorting through my underwear, I noticed one of the ties was missing from the box next to it.
"Where's the red plaid tie?" I asked.
Helen, one of the maids, came over, thought for a moment, and then smiled.
"Oh, I remember now. Mr. Lane grabbed that one to wear when he went out this morning," she said.
My gaze dimmed, but I quietly moved my things out without showing any emotion.
The red plaid tie was the birthday gift I gave Andrew just a little while ago.
Love that came too late wasn't worth a thing. Why bother wearing it now?
After Cole got someone to move my luggage back to my own villa, I left behind the place I'd called home for two years.
As I slid into the car, I saw Andrew pulling up at the same moment. Our cars brushed past each other, barely a glance exchanged.
I got a good look at his face, cold and handsome as ever, but now tight with tension, his brows furrowed deep.
Andrew only ever looked like that when he was pissed off or seriously on edge.
But that was all in the past now. Whatever he did, it was none of my business anymore.
I'd already left the signed divorce papers on the dining table for him.
All Andrew had to do was sign, and we'd finally be done with each other for good.
But of course, things didn't go nearly as smoothly as I'd hoped.
On my first day back at the villa, my dad gave me a call.
When I told the reporters I was getting a divorce, it only took two days for everyone to know about it.
My dad was no different.
He'd never been happy about my marriage, and in the two years since I got married, he hadn't called me even once.
I picked up the call, feeling a mix of surprise and anxiety, worried my dad was about to get angry with me again.
He said, "So you do remember how to answer your phone. Every time something big happens, you never bother to talk to me first.
"You're a Carter. How could I let you be treated like this?"
As soon as I heard my dad's familiar voice, I couldn't hold back anymore; tears flooded my eyes, and all the frustration and hurt I'd been bottling up just spilled out.
"Dad," I managed to say, my voice trembling.
As soon as he heard me choke up, my dad's anger faded away. He let out a sigh.
"Alright, just take care of yourself and the baby. Come home for dinner when you get a chance," he said.
After talking with my dad for a while and hanging up, all the bad feelings just melted away. I felt my confidence coming back, ready to face whatever came next.