Chapter 2
I didn't feel a shred of attachment.
What Andrew saw as a thirty-million-dollar payout, I considered nothing more than seed money.
I spent half a day arranging for a moving company and cleared out everything that was mine from the villa.
That included the furniture, carpets, and art pieces I had handpicked and bought myself. He probably never even remembered those things were mine.
When Andrew's assistant, Ben Carter, showed up with that all-business look to "help" me move out, he was greeted by a living room so empty it looked like no one had ever lived there.
His professional demeanor instantly shifted to shock. "Ms. Harper, all this..."
"Oh, these are all mine. I've got the receipts right here. If Mr. Foster wants to check, he can talk to my lawyer," I said, waving the folder in my hand with a cool, effortless smile.
Ben's mouth opened, but he couldn't get a word out.
I didn't bother with him. I directed the movers to take out the last box and left the place I'd called home for three years without a backward glance.
Did Andrew really think I'd be crying and begging him to stay? With thirty million dollars in my pocket, the world would be mine.
I blocked Andrew everywhere.
The very next day, I hopped on a plane out of the country.
As the plane took off, I watched the city get smaller and smaller outside the window, leaving everything behind for good.
Goodbye, Andrew.
Hello, my three babies, and my thirty million dollars.
*****
Five years had passed.
"Let's give a big round of applause for the mysterious illustrator, Hebe Vale, who has just won the Gold Award at this year's Global Illustration Awards," the host said. "Let's welcome her to the stage."
Under the spotlight, I stepped onto the stage in a simple white gown, with a steady heart.
Thunderous applause erupted from the audience.
For the past five years, I'd been creating my picture book series, Starlit Eyes, under the name Hebe Vale, and it had taken the world by storm.
No one had a clue who Hebe Vale really was. People only knew that her art had a way of healing hearts.
Today, I had to fly back home to accept this honor myself.
"Mommy, you look so beautiful." In the backstage lounge, my three kids crowded around me, beaming up at me with pure adoration in their eyes.
Lucas Foster, my eldest son, was a cool little genius. He totally took after Andrew: quiet, serious, and way too smart for his age.
Ethan Foster, my second son, was a little sweetheart, always saying the sweetest things, always my little bundle of comfort.
Sophie Harper, my only daughter, was a mischievous little spark, always making us laugh with her wild ideas.
I gave my two sons their father's last name, as a final tie to that chapter of my life.
"Thank you, my babies," I said, crouching down to kiss their cheeks. "After the ceremony, Mommy's taking you all out for something delicious."
"Yay!" they cheered.
Just then, the lounge door swung open.
Someone I thought I'd never see again showed up at the door.
It was Andrew.
He looked even calmer and colder than five years ago, wearing a tailored suit that exuded exclusivity and power.
He seemed to be a special guest at the awards ceremony.
Our eyes met, and his eyes widened in shock.
The air froze between us.
I hadn't expected to meet my ex-husband, Mr. Moneybags himself.
It had been five years, and he was still wearing that grim look, like he had lost his wife.
Wait, I was the wife he had lost.
Andrew's eyes were sharp as knives, locked onto me. Shock, confusion, and a hint of something I couldn't quite place all mixed in his stare.
He probably never expected that the woman he sent packing with thirty million dollars five years ago would walk back into his life like this.
"Emily?" he said, his voice hoarse.
Before I could respond, a sweet little voice chimed in. "Mommy, who's that man? Why is he staring at you like that?"
Sophie peeked out from behind me, her sparkling eyes blinking as she looked at Andrew with innocent curiosity.
Andrew's gaze shifted instantly from me to Sophie's face.
When he realized he was staring at a miniature version of himself, he went completely still.
His Adam's apple bobbed, and his eyes filled with utter disbelief.
"Your kids?" Andrew asked, his voice rough, eyes flicking over to Lucas and Ethan.
Three children, all with the same face, every single one a spitting image of him.