Chapter 2
Her family was in trouble? Three years ago, her father's company did run into some issues, but it was just a temporary cash flow problem—solved in less than three months. Barton was the one who came to her, offering to help, but only if she agreed to marry him. She thought he was genuine, so she foolishly said yes. Later, she realized he just needed a trophy wife—someone gentle, dutiful, never making waves. Yulia was leaving, and Nina just happened to be there at the right moment.
"Two million dollars," Nina said quietly, picking up the check. "Mr. Gray, that's awfully generous of you."
Barton frowned. He didn't like her using that tone—it wasn't the Nina he was used to.
"Once you sign the divorce papers, you can keep everything you've bought in the past three years. The house and car are under my name, so those aren't yours," Barton said.
"Alright," Nina replied.
"To everyone else, we'll just say we're not compatible and are parting ways peacefully," Barton added.
"Alright," Nina replied.
"Don't make things difficult for Yulia," Barton warned.
Nina finally looked up at him. For the first time in three years, she really took him in—his handsome face, those cool, indifferent lips, and those eyes that always felt so distant.
"Barton," she suddenly smiled. "Do you think my life will fall apart without you?"
Barton didn't say a word, but his eyes said everything. Of course, he thought she'd be miserable. A woman with no job, no income, no connections—how long could she survive in this city with two million dollars? Three years? Five? Eventually, she'd end up marrying someone else, just to get by.
"Where's the divorce agreement?" Nina asked.
Barton pulled two documents out of his briefcase.
Nina took the papers, flipped to the last page, picked up the pen from the coffee table, and signed her name with crisp, decisive strokes—no hesitation at all.
"Tomorrow, I'm changing my ID and my name," she said, setting the pen down with a serene, carefree smile. "The name Nina Lynn—I'm giving it back to you."
Barton was stunned.
Nina had already turned and walked into the bedroom.
She didn't cry.
Three years ago, she did. On their wedding night, Barton got drunk and called out Yulia's name, and Nina hid under the covers, crying all night. The first year, he was gone on business for three months—never called once. She got sick with a high fever, dragged herself to get water, and cried into her pillow. The second year, for his birthday, she spent a whole week preparing, but he only took a couple of bites and said, "Not as good as Yulia's cooking." She went to wash the dishes, the sound of running water covering her silent tears.
After three years, her tears were long gone.
She opened her closet and took out the old suitcase she brought on her wedding day—the same one she'd used in college. Barton always said she looked good in anything, so she never bothered buying new clothes. He didn't like women wearing jewelry, so she never bought any. He said she looked best with a bare face, so she didn't even use skincare products.
Thinking about it now, she felt so stupid.
She opened the drawer and dug out a card wallet buried at the very bottom. Inside were several cards, but one stood out—a black card with nothing on it but a string of gold numbers. Her brother had handed it to her the day she left home. "Whenever you change your mind, just swipe this card. I'll come pick you up," he'd told her.
She hadn't used it once in three years.
Tomorrow, she'd finally be going home.
Early the next morning, Nina walked out the door of the home she'd lived in for three years, suitcase in hand.
Barton didn't see her off. He'd left early, saying he was going to pick up Yulia and look at houses. Nina didn't care. She set the keys on the shoe cabinet in the entryway and took one last look at the home she'd poured her heart into for three years—the cross-stitch on the wall she'd stayed up late to finish, the throw pillows on the sofa she'd sewn herself, and the succulents on the balcony she'd nurtured one by one.
None of it could go with her.
That was fine. Time for a fresh start.
She dragged her suitcase into the elevator, went downstairs, and walked through the neighborhood garden. The security guard recognized her and greeted her with a smile. "Mrs. Gray, heading out?"
"Just heading out," Nina replied.
"That suitcase looks heavy. Need a hand with it to the gate?" the guard offered.
"No, thanks," Nina said.
She paused at the entrance of the neighborhood.
Right across the street was the heart of the city's business district—towering glass buildings catching the harsh morning light. The tallest, flashiest one had two golden words shining on its rooftop.
Lynn Group.
That was her family's building.
Her dad built it up from nothing, and her brother ran the whole empire. And her—Nina Lynn, the one and only heiress of Lynn Group—had spent three years right across from it, keeping her head down as a housewife.
Her phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID and picked up.
"Hey, bro," she greeted.
"Where are you? Dad heard you were coming back, so he's already had your favorite food made this morning. He said you should come straight to the office—he wants to give you a personal tour." Ethan's voice was full of laughter. "So, our precious heiress is finally coming home?"
Nina glanced at the building across the street, the corners of her lips curving into a smile.
"I'll be there soon, Ethan," she replied.
She hung up, suitcase in tow, and walked straight toward the Lynn Group's headquarters—the most expensive building in the city.