Chapter 3 · He Saved Her Instead of Me

Dorothy said, "You're hurt, and you're already talking about divorce? Focus on getting better first."

She stood up and grabbed her handbag. "You know how much this family has done for you. If it weren't for the Olivers, you'd still be another orphan. Do you think you'd have all this without us?"

Emily met her gaze in silence.

Dorothy paused at the door. "Don't stir things up right now. I'll talk to Noah when I get home."

The door closed, and the room fell silent again.

Emily looked down at her hand, wrapped in gauze. She'd cut her palm yesterday while reaching for her phone in the wrecked car.

She picked up her phone and scrolled to her conversation with Noah. The last message she'd sent was three days ago, asking if he'd be home for dinner. He never replied.

She set her phone aside and pulled out another phone from under her pillow. It was a plain black one, unmarked.

There were three unread messages on the screen, but Emily didn't even bother to look at the sender. She powered it off and tucked it back under the pillow.

Then she closed her eyes, not thinking about anything at all.

*****

Three days later, Emily left the hospital, leaning on a crutch.

It wasn't the Oliver family's driver who came to pick her up. It was Isabella Cain. A red SUV was parked at the entrance, and Isabella jumped out of the driver's seat, rushing over to help her.

Isabella said, "I knew something was wrong when you went silent on social media for three days. I tried calling, but you didn't pick up, so I went to the Oliver family's place."

She took Emily's crutch and put it in the back seat. "They told me you were in the hospital. Three days, Emily? Are you treating me like an outsider or what?"

Emily replied, "My phone got smashed up. I got a new one yesterday."

"Alright," Isabella said, helping her into the passenger seat. She got in on the other side, closed the door, and didn't start the car right away. She turned to Emily. "So, spill it. What's with the bandage on your face?"

Emily buckled her seatbelt. "I got caught in a pile-up. Guess I was unlucky."

Isabella pressed, "Unlucky? I heard you were stuck in that car for almost two hours. Where was Noah? Doesn't he have a helicopter?"

Emily didn't answer.

Isabella stared at her for a couple of seconds, reading the silence. "The helicopter went to pick up Amber, didn't it?"

"How'd you know?" Emily asked.

"Do I even need to guess?" Isabella said, gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white. "Amber posted on social media that day.

"It was a night view of the city from above, and she wrote, 'Some people care without you even asking.' I didn't think much of it at the time, but now I put the pieces together."

She slammed her hand on the steering wheel. "Is he cold-blooded?"

Emily said quietly, "It's over. I'm getting a divorce."

Isabella paused, stunned, and turned to look at her.

"The seven-year deal is up. I already talked to Bruce, and he agreed," Emily explained.

"Are you serious?" Isabella asked.

"I'm serious."

Isabella was silent for a few seconds, then started the car. She said, "You should've left him a long time ago. I've wanted to say that for seven years. Emily, you deserve someone a thousand times better than that bastard."

Emily leaned back in her seat, watching the trees blur past outside, saying nothing.

By the time they got back to the Oliver family's villa, it was already four in the afternoon.

Emily walked in and found Noah in the living room. He was sprawled on the couch, papers scattered across the coffee table. He wore casual clothes, his hair tousled as if he'd rolled out of bed.

He glanced up at the sound of the door.

Noah said, "You're back? How's your leg?"

"Fractured. Doctor says two months of rest," Emily replied, walking over with her crutch and settling into the armchair across from him.

Noah grunted and went back to shuffling through his papers.

"Noah," Emily said.

He didn't look up. "What is it?"

"I want a divorce," Emily said.

Noah's hand froze mid-motion. He looked up at her.

He stared at her as if she were talking nonsense.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"Divorce. The seven years are up. I already checked with Grandpa, and he's fine with it," Emily said.

Noah dropped the papers onto the coffee table and leaned back, staring at Emily. His face went from shocked to something I couldn't even describe.

"Is this about what happened with the helicopter?" he asked.

"Nope. The deal's over," Emily replied.

"Let's be clear. What do you want?" he said, sounding all business.

"I don't want your money, your house, or anything. Just write it in the papers. I leave with nothing," Emily said.

This time, Noah's expression truly changed. He sat up straight, elbows resting on his knees, his gaze sharp and probing as he studied her.

He asked, "Emily, do you even know what you're saying?"

"I know," she answered.

"You've been married into the Oliver family for seven years, and now you want to leave with nothing? You expect me to believe you don't have some other motive?" he said.

Chapter 3

Dorothy said, "You're hurt, and you're already talking about divorce? Focus on getting better first."

She stood up and grabbed her handbag. "You know how much this family has done for you. If it weren't for the Olivers, you'd still be another orphan. Do you think you'd have all this without us?"

Emily met her gaze in silence.

Dorothy paused at the door. "Don't stir things up right now. I'll talk to Noah when I get home."

The door closed, and the room fell silent again.

Emily looked down at her hand, wrapped in gauze. She'd cut her palm yesterday while reaching for her phone in the wrecked car.

She picked up her phone and scrolled to her conversation with Noah. The last message she'd sent was three days ago, asking if he'd be home for dinner. He never replied.

She set her phone aside and pulled out another phone from under her pillow. It was a plain black one, unmarked.

There were three unread messages on the screen, but Emily didn't even bother to look at the sender. She powered it off and tucked it back under the pillow.

Then she closed her eyes, not thinking about anything at all.

*****

Three days later, Emily left the hospital, leaning on a crutch.

It wasn't the Oliver family's driver who came to pick her up. It was Isabella Cain. A red SUV was parked at the entrance, and Isabella jumped out of the driver's seat, rushing over to help her.

Isabella said, "I knew something was wrong when you went silent on social media for three days. I tried calling, but you didn't pick up, so I went to the Oliver family's place."

She took Emily's crutch and put it in the back seat. "They told me you were in the hospital. Three days, Emily? Are you treating me like an outsider or what?"

Emily replied, "My phone got smashed up. I got a new one yesterday."

Emily buckled her seatbelt. "I got caught in a pile-up. Guess I was unlucky."

Isabella pressed, "Unlucky? I heard you were stuck in that car for almost two hours. Where was Noah? Doesn't he have a helicopter?"

Emily didn't answer.

Isabella stared at her for a couple of seconds, reading the silence. "The helicopter went to pick up Amber, didn't it?"

"How'd you know?" Emily asked.

"Do I even need to guess?" Isabella said, gripping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white. "Amber posted on social media that day.

"It was a night view of the city from above, and she wrote, 'Some people care without you even asking.' I didn't think much of it at the time, but now I put the pieces together."

She slammed her hand on the steering wheel. "Is he cold-blooded?"

Emily said quietly, "It's over. I'm getting a divorce."

Isabella paused, stunned, and turned to look at her.

"The seven-year deal is up. I already talked to Bruce, and he agreed," Emily explained.

"Are you serious?" Isabella asked.

"I'm serious."

Emily leaned back in her seat, watching the trees blur past outside, saying nothing.

By the time they got back to the Oliver family's villa, it was already four in the afternoon.

Emily walked in and found Noah in the living room. He was sprawled on the couch, papers scattered across the coffee table. He wore casual clothes, his hair tousled as if he'd rolled out of bed.

He glanced up at the sound of the door.

Noah said, "You're back? How's your leg?"

"Fractured. Doctor says two months of rest," Emily replied, walking over with her crutch and settling into the armchair across from him.

Noah grunted and went back to shuffling through his papers.

"Noah," Emily said.

He didn't look up. "What is it?"

"I want a divorce," Emily said.

Noah's hand froze mid-motion. He looked up at her.

He stared at her as if she were talking nonsense.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"Divorce. The seven years are up. I already checked with Grandpa, and he's fine with it," Emily said.

Noah dropped the papers onto the coffee table and leaned back, staring at Emily. His face went from shocked to something I couldn't even describe.

"Is this about what happened with the helicopter?" he asked.

"Nope. The deal's over," Emily replied.

"Let's be clear. What do you want?" he said, sounding all business.

"I don't want your money, your house, or anything. Just write it in the papers. I leave with nothing," Emily said.

This time, Noah's expression truly changed. He sat up straight, elbows resting on his knees, his gaze sharp and probing as he studied her.

He asked, "Emily, do you even know what you're saying?"

"I know," she answered.

"You've been married into the Oliver family for seven years, and now you want to leave with nothing? You expect me to believe you don't have some other motive?" he said.