Chapter 3

I looked down at the scissors in my hand, the blade glinting coldly under the harsh white light.

It was all about to end anyway.

I didn't have to tolerate her anymore.

Gideon hadn't come home for five days straight.

The housekeeper reported, "Mrs. Gross, Mr. Gross hasn't come home, but he calls every day to make sure you're taking your meds and feeling alright."

She paused, then added softly, "He still cares about you."

I let out a cold laugh.

Guess he really cared.

But what if he found out Delaney had deliberately slipped the divorce papers in with his company files, and he'd signed them himself?

Would he keep convincing himself that Delaney was just messing with him?

Or would he fly into a rage?

I got up from the couch, walked into the bedroom, and started gathering my stuff.

Our towels were hanging side by side for seven years.

Matching mugs—one said "Mr. Gross," the other "Ms. Glover."

The walls were plastered with photos, from our engagement to the wedding, the honeymoon, all the anniversaries—every single one telling the story of how sweet things used to be.

I threw them all into a cardboard box.

"Take down the wedding photos from the wall too," I told the housekeeper. "Throw them out with everything else."

The housekeeper's face went pale. "Mrs. Gross, this... isn't really okay, is it?"

I replied coolly, "Just toss them."

That night, I had just fallen asleep when I felt someone sitting on the edge of the bed.

My body tensed up instinctively, and I snapped my eyes open to see Gideon sitting there.

He looked at me, his face tight, voice rough. "Why'd you get rid of the wedding photos?"

Before I could say anything, my phone buzzed on the nightstand.

A notification popped up: [Your beach photoshoot is confirmed for 10 a.m. on the 15th of next month. Please arrive on time.]

Gideon paused, glancing at my phone and then at me. The worry in his eyes eased up.

"So you just wanted to take new pictures?" His voice softened. "You could've told me. No need to toss out the old ones and make me think..."

He let the words hang, but I knew exactly what he was getting at.

"If you want to make up, I'll do the photoshoot with you," he said, reaching out to touch my head. "There's no need to pretend you're leaving and erasing every trace, just to make me panic and come running home."

I turned my head away from his hand, my tone indifferent. "If you don't want to stay, just go."

As soon as I said it, the bedroom went dead silent.

Gideon's hand froze in mid-air for a moment before he slowly lowered it.

He sighed, sounding helpless. "Maddison, why are we still fighting over this? Can you please not be upset anymore?"

"Your parents' memorial day is coming up. I'll go with you this weekend to pay our respects," he added.

My heart skipped a beat.

When I was with Gideon, he'd always go with me to visit my parents' graves. He made a promise right there at their graves to protect me for the rest of my life.

Going back now would be like drawing a line under that promise.

"Okay," I murmured.

I accepted.

That weekend, I was up and ready early.

I put on a white button-down shirt and black pants, with a bouquet of white chrysanthemums in my hand.

The cemetery was far from the city. It was more than a two-hour drive.

I sat in the living room, waiting—first from eight to nine, then from nine to ten. Every minute felt like an eternity.

My phone kept lighting up and going dark, over and over, as I checked it again and again.

Finally, at ten fifteen, Gideon's call came through.

"Maddison," he said, sounding worn out and guilty. "Some confidential info got out at work. I need to head back for an emergency meeting. I probably can't make it today..."

In the background, someone was hurrying him, "Mr. Gross, everyone's here—just waiting on you."

I gripped my phone so hard my knuckles went white.

"Just handle the company stuff. Go ahead," I said, my voice flat.

After hanging up, I got in the car alone.

The car slowly pulled out of the estate, the view outside sliding by as we left.

Gideon was all about his career. The Gross Group was the only thing his parents left him, and it meant the world to him.

I'd never made a fuss about it.

But I never thought work would be put ahead of me.

But somehow, Delaney always took priority, even over the company.

The cemetery was so quiet, you could hear your own thoughts.

The early winter wind swept through, rustling the leaves and sending a chill through the air.

With the white chrysanthemums in hand, I walked down the path I'd traveled so many times before.

And then I saw Gideon.

He was anxiously scanning the area, his suit rumpled, sweat beading on his forehead.

When he spotted me, a flicker of guilt crossed his face, but he quickly strode over. "Maddison, have you seen Delaney?"

I stopped in my tracks. "What?"