Chapter 2

My words set off an explosion in the banquet hall, sending shockwaves through the crowd.

Everyone froze, including Ethan.

His gentle facade disappeared in a flash, replaced by pure shock and irritation.

"Are you done making a scene?" Ethan hissed through gritted teeth, his voice low and threatening. "Stop embarrassing me in front of everyone."

Embarrassing him? Really?

I looked at him, and the irony of it all was almost laughable.

Who else was more embarrassed than I was at that moment?

My husband snatched my brooch in front of everyone just to hand it over to his so-called "old friend"? And he claimed that I embarrassed him. So, of course, the answer was nobody.

Claire put on her best panicked act, clutching Ethan's sleeve. "Ethan, it's all my fault... I shouldn't have taken the brooch. Mrs. Grant, please don't be mad. I'll give it back to you right now..."

As she spoke, she reached up to remove the brooch.

"Keep it," I cut her off coldly. "I don't want anything that's already been handled by someone else. It's dirty."

My eyes bored straight into Ethan. "Especially since it was from an asshole."

"What is wrong with you?" Ethan was absolutely livid now, grabbing my wrist so hard that it felt like he wanted to snap it. "Are you out of your mind today? Come with me."

He tried to drag me away, desperate to protect his pathetic ego.

I yanked my hand free, my eyes colder than his. "Let go of me. Sir, I've made it clear. We're getting a divorce."

"Say that again. I dare you," he snarled, his eyes so dark and menacing that it looked like he wanted to tear me apart.

"I said, we're getting a divorce," I shot back, staring him down without a hint of fear. "Tomorrow morning at nine, outside the courthouse. If you don't show, you're nothing but a coward."

With that, I didn't spare Ethan or the crowd another glance. Head held high, I walked away.

My heels struck the marble floor, each step crisp and final, like a funeral march for my seven ridiculous years of marriage.

I could feel his stare trying to pierce right through me, but I never turned around.

Not once. Not ever.

When I returned to our so-called home, the place I'd once poured my heart into, every corner marked by my presence, it now felt suffocating, like I could barely breathe.

The wedding photo on the wall stared back at me. I was smiling like I was the happiest woman alive, and Ethan looked every bit the perfect husband. Now it just felt like a cruel joke.

Without a hint of nostalgia, I walked into the closet and pulled out the suitcase I'd already prepared.

Honestly, I didn't have much to take with me.

Seven years of marriage, and I had given up everything. I let go of my career, my friends, and every hobby I used to love, all so I could revolve around him and this house. In the end, the only thing left of me was the label "Mrs. Grant."

I opened the safe and pulled out my ID, my personal documents, and the deed to my apartment.

That apartment was bought before I ever married Ethan. It was a spacious luxury apartment right in the city center. Back then, he said he didn't want me to feel shortchanged, but for him, I still moved into his suburban villa.

Looking back now, it was honestly laughable.

I packed up all my documents and a few essentials into my suitcase. Then, I grabbed my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in forever.

The phone barely rang three times before a bright, slightly surprised male voice answered. "Emmy? You finally decided to call me?"

Hearing his voice, all the tension I'd been holding in finally started to melt away. My nose tingled, and I was suddenly on the verge of tears.

"Ryan," I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm divorced now. Is that position you mentioned still available?"

There was a short pause, and then Ryan replied, his voice warm and certain. "It's always been yours. I've been holding it just for you."

"Great," I said, zipping up my suitcase. "I'll come in tomorrow."

After hanging up, I looked around this empty, icy house, not feeling a hint of attachment.

I said goodbye to Ethan.

And I said goodbye to the seven foolish years of my youth.

I pulled my suitcase out of the villa without a single glance back.

Right as I slid into the cab, Ethan called.

I saw his name flash, hit decline, and then blocked him. No hesitation.

The cab rolled off, and the villa faded in the rearview, shrinking to a smudge before disappearing completely.

Resting my head against the glass, I watched the city blur by, feeling nothing but peace.

No anger. No bitterness. Not even sadness.

Some claimed the deepest sorrow came from numbness, and that truth finally made sense to me tonight.

Seven years was all it took to see the truth about him and to drain away every ounce of hope and love I ever had.

From that moment on, I became Emily Shaw, no longer anyone's wife. I was just myself.