Chapter 2
"Let's call it quits, Victor. We were never really married anyway; let's just end it," I said.
Victor's smile froze.
"What did you just say?"
"Let's break up," I repeated, grabbing the handle of my suitcase.
He stepped in front of me, blocking my path.
"Claire, have you lost your mind? Who do you think you are? You should be thanking your lucky stars I was willing to marry you!"
Sophie mumbled sleepily from the couch.
"Victor... if she wants to leave, just let her go. She doesn't even deserve to stand next to you anyway..."
Victor glanced back at Sophie, a look of tenderness in his eyes.
When he turned back to me, his face was full of annoyance.
"Fine, go ahead and leave. But let me tell you, this circle's tiny. I just have to put in a word, and nobody will touch you.
"With just one arm, what are you even good for? Sketching? Serving coffee? Or maybe selling your sob story on the street?"
I walked around him and opened the door. "You'll see soon enough."
The door closed behind me.
I walked into the elevator, dragging my suitcase along.
As the elevator doors slid shut, I saw Victor come running out into the hallway, his face twisted in disbelief.
He probably never imagined I'd actually leave.
After all, in his eyes, I was just a cripple—no one else but him would ever want me.
When the elevator reached the first floor, my phone buzzed—Ethan had sent me a new message.
[Got your stuff together? I told the front desk to hold your access card. Your spot's by the window on the third floor—just swing by tomorrow.
[Oh, and don't stress about where to stay. There's an empty apartment right above the studio, you can crash there for now.]
I just typed back "okay."
Stepping out of the apartment building, I was greeted by rain—cold drops falling, as if the sky was echoing my mood.
I didn't have an umbrella.
But it didn't matter.
Compared to the suffocating atmosphere back at that place, the cold rain actually made me feel more alive.
*****
Ethan's design studio was in a creative park on the west side of the city—a small, three-story standalone building.
I showed up bright and early the next morning.
The receptionist glanced at me, her gaze paused on my right arm for a moment before she flashed a professional smile.
"Ms. Lane, right? Mr. Carter said to give you this access card."
I took the card and headed up to the third floor.
Ethan was already waiting by my desk, holding a cup of black coffee. He grinned when he saw me.
"You're quick.
"Check this out."
He handed me a tablet with a project brief on the screen.
"It's a bid to revamp an old factory on the east side. The job's for Horizon Group, and we've got until next month."
I skimmed through it—it was about turning an old textile factory into a creative hub. The place wasn't big, but the design's pretty demanding. We had to keep the old industrial bones but make it work for new uses.
"You want me to take this on?" I asked.
Ethan leaned against the desk and nodded.
"This is right up your alley. I still have all those sketches you did back then—any one of them could land us the project. But..."
He paused.
"But what?"
"One of the other bidders is Victor's company, Summit Design."
I stared at the client's name on the screen for a moment, feeling a mix of emotions, then quietly closed the tablet.
"Is there a problem?"
Ethan looked at me, then smiled after a few seconds.
"No problem. The third floor's yours; use it however you want."
I set my suitcase down, sat at my desk, and turned on my computer.
It's been five years.
Ever since I lost my right arm, I haven't designed anything.
Victor said my career was over, that I couldn't draw with just one hand.
But he had no idea—for five years, every single night, I'd been practicing with my left hand, starting from the very basics, drawing line by line, teaching myself all over again.
He thought I was just wasting my days at home, doing nothing.
But in reality, my left hand's sketches are even steadier than anything I ever drew with my right.
*****
On my third day back at my desk, I got a call from an unknown number.
"Ms. Lane? This is Zoe from Horizon Group. I'm the project coordinator.
"Carter Studio has signed up for the factory renovation bid. I just wanted to confirm who the lead designer on your team is."
"That's me."
There was a brief pause on the other end.
"Got it. Just a heads-up, there's a project briefing next Tuesday—all the bidding teams will be there."
"I'll be there."
After hanging up, I went right back to sketching.
Ethan poked his head out from the office next door.
"You're going to the briefing next Tuesday?"
"Yeah. Victor's team will probably send someone too."
My hand didn't even pause.
"I know."
"You don't mind?"
"What's there to mind?"
Ethan didn't say anything else and turned back to his office.
At five in the afternoon, my phone rang again.
Victor's name flashed on my phone screen.
After staring at it for two seconds, I hit decline.
He called again.
I hung up again.
The third time, I answered.
"Speak," I said coldly.
Victor's voice was burning with anger.
"Claire, what are you trying to do? You've been gone for three days—not a single word to me?"
"I already told you; we're over."
"Do you—" He lowered his voice. "Do you think I'm joking? Get back here, now."
"I'm not coming back."
"You—"
"If that's all, I'm hanging up."
"Claire! Don't get cocky! You really think you can survive without me?"
I stared at the half-finished design on my screen, the precise curves and structures already taking shape.
"Victor, you'll see," I said, my voice calm but resolute.
Then, I hung up.
*****
Tuesday afternoon, the project briefing.
We were on the fortieth floor of Horizon Group's headquarters, and seven bidding teams were there.
I wore a black long-sleeved shirt, and with a glove over my prosthetic right arm, you'd never guess I wasn't just like everyone else unless one looked really close.
Ethan came with me.
When we arrived, the conference room was already pretty crowded.
As soon as I walked in, I spotted a familiar figure sitting right across from me.
Victor.
Sophie was sitting right next to him.
They were whispering to each other—Sophie was grinning, and Victor had his hand casually draped over the back of her chair.
When he looked up and saw me, he froze for a second.
Then he shot me a mocking smirk.
Sophie followed his gaze, spotted me, and a mocking smile tugged at her lips.
"Victor, isn't that your ex? What's she doing here, trying to make a scene?"
Her voice was just loud enough for the teams in the front row to hear.
Victor leaned back in his chair, not bothering to lower his voice.
"Probably just here to freeload; it's not like she has anywhere else to be."
A few people snickered.
I didn't even look their way—just headed straight for our seats and sat down.