Chapter 4

I actually laughed when I saw that message. Done throwing a fit? That was what he called this. In his eyes, me defending the last shred of my dignity was nothing more than some unreasonable tantrum. What a bitter joke.

My parents were sitting on the couch across from me, watching with concern. I handed my phone to my dad. The second he read it, his face darkened and the air around him seemed to go cold.

Then he passed the phone to my mom. She only glanced at it before her eyes turned red again. When she looked at me, all I saw was heartache. "Lottie, what kind of life have you been living these past eight years?"

I took my phone back and tapped the screen. Then I sent him four words: [Let's get divorced.] After that, I blocked his number too.

I knew those four words would hit him like a bomb. Andrew Shaw was a control freak to the core. He was used to everything being under his control, including my life and my emotions.

He could leave me, but I wasn't allowed to leave him. He could ignore me, but I had to come the second he called. I was the one who said the word divorce, and to him, that was a challenge he would never tolerate.

Sure enough, less than a minute later, my dad's phone started ringing. Andrew's name flashed on the screen. My dad took one look and hung up.

He called again, and my dad hung up a second time. On the third call, he simply turned the phone off. Then he looked at me and said, "Lottie, don't be scared. Dad's here."

I nodded, my eyes stinging. A second later, my mom's phone started ringing too. It was Helen Shaw.

My mom looked at me, and I shook my head. So she hung up as well, then turned her phone off. Our family used the quietest and most decisive way possible to make our position clear.

A brief silence settled over the living room. After a long moment, my dad sighed. "Lottie, have you really thought this through?" I nodded hard. "Dad, I have. I want to live for myself for once."

That night, for the first time in years, I reached out to my old mentor, Professor Linden. By the time the call connected, my palms were sweating. "Hello, who's this?" His familiar, gentle voice came through the phone.

"Professor Linden, it's me, Charlotte Quinn." There was a pause, then his voice turned bright with surprise. "Charlotte? You girl, what made you think of calling this old man?" Just hearing that he still remembered me made my voice catch.

"Professor, I..." "Did something happen?" Professor Linden always seemed to see right through people. I stopped hiding things and told him everything, how I'd lived these past years and what I planned to do now.

I thought he would scold me for letting my field go and wasting everything he'd taught me. But he didn't. All he said, full of pity, was, "Come back, kid."

"As long as you want to come back, the door to literary translation will always be open for you. You were my best student. I trust your ability."

After I hung up, I threw myself onto the bed and cried my heart out, for the eight years of youth I'd lost and for the new life I was about to reclaim.

In the days that followed, Andrew seemed to go crazy. When he couldn't reach me, he started contacting my friends and classmates, and my phone practically blew up. So I switched to a new SIM card.

Every day, I stayed with my parents, met old classmates now and then, and spent the rest of my time picking my field back up. I dug out my old books from the study and worked through them one by one.

A lot of the knowledge had gone rusty, so I stayed up late checking references and taking notes. It felt like I'd gone back to college, back to the Charlotte who would risk everything for her dream. It was exhausting, but I had never felt so full.

My parents saw it all and ached for me. They never brought up Andrew again. They just kept making me good food in different ways. That was how they supported my decision.

A week later, Professor Linden sent me a file. It was a sample translation from a German novel. He said that if I could finish it within a month and the quality was good enough, he'd recommend me to one of the biggest publishers in the country.

I knew he was giving me a chance. I threw my whole heart into it. At times, it even felt like Andrew Shaw had completely vanished from my life.

That feeling lasted until one day, half a month later, when I came back from grocery shopping with my mom. The moment we reached the building, I saw that familiar black Land Rover.

And there he was, leaning against the car door, looking haggard with dark circles under his eyes. Andrew Shaw. He had actually found this place.