Chapter 3
Michael's expression finally shifted, his face falling as he stared at the photo.
Mary gasped.
"Oh my god, what happened? Why didn't you tell us?" she cried.
"I called him six times," I said.
I looked at Michael.
"First call, he hung up. Second call, he texted me to stop bothering him. The next four calls, he didn't answer," I said.
Michael immediately checked his phone.
The screen lit up, and he just stopped, staring at the screen.
Because the messages were still right there.
I sent him a message: [The window at home got smashed. I'm scared.]
And right below it was his reply.
[Don't use this to compete with Emily.]
Robert took the phone and glanced at the screen, his face turning ashen.
"Michael, is this what you call 'just saying things out of anger'?" he asked.
Michael opened his mouth, struggling for words.
He started to say, "I thought," but the words just wouldn't come.
"You thought I was just jealous," I cut in, finishing his sentence for him.
"So you'd rather stay by Emily's side than even check if I was okay?" I said.
Mary, frantic, slapped his arm.
"Say something!" she pressed.
Michael's forehead veins bulged, his voice thick with frustration.
"Olivia, there really was a burglar at Emily's place last night. See, I made the right call," he said.
"So just because you were right, my fear was nothing to you?" I shot back.
I put my phone away.
'Michael, you've saved so many people, but I'm the only one you never even thought about saving,' I said.
The room fell silent, except for Mary's quiet sobs.
Michael's throat felt tight and dry.
"I didn't know you were really in danger," he said.
"Well, now you know," I said.
I opened the door.
"Just sign the papers," I said.
One of the hallway lights was busted, flickering on and off.
I dragged my suitcase out, and behind me, I heard Michael's voice, a low growl of anger.
"Olivia, don't push me," he said.
I paused at the elevator doors.
"You've been pushing me for too long," I said.
The elevator doors slid open, and inside stood a man in a black trench coat.
He glanced at my suitcase, his gaze pausing on the fresh wound on my arm for a moment before he stepped aside to make room for me.
"Ms. Miller."
I was momentarily stunned.
The man handed me a business card, his voice low.
"Arthur Brown asked me to come get you. He said you've finally made your decision."
Michael's footsteps stopped at the doorway.
"Arthur Brown?" he asked.
He stared at the business card, his face getting uglier by the moment.
"Olivia, when did you contact a lawyer?" he demanded.
I stepped into the elevator.
"When you hung up on me for the third time," I replied.
Just before the elevator doors closed, I saw Michael take a step forward, but Robert grabbed him and held him back.
"Let her go," Robert said, his voice low and unyielding.
"You don't have the right to stop her tonight," he added.
By the time I got to my best friend Sophie Lane's apartment, the sun was already up.
Sophie opened the door in her pajamas, her hair a total mess, like she'd just wrestled with her pillow.
When she saw the injury on my arm, she didn't ask a single question. Instead, she grabbed a baseball bat from the shoe cabinet.
"Did Michael do this?" she asked.
"No," I replied.
"Did Emily have someone do this?" she asked.
"Not sure yet," I replied.
Sophie propped the bat against the wall, her jaw clenched as she started ranting.
"I've been saying that woman is trouble. Widow, pregnant, all alone—every time something happens, it's always right when Michael's about to come home.
"Her pipes burst, she calls him. Lightbulb goes out, she calls him. Even for a checkup, she calls him. He's a rescue captain, not her live-in handyman," Sophie snapped.
I sat down on the couch and sent the divorce agreement template to Arthur.
Sophie leaned in to take a look.
"You're seriously not taking a dime?" she asked.
"The house was paid for by the Carter family, the car was his before we got married, and most of the savings come from his paycheck," I replied.
"Oh, come on," Sophie said, crossing her arms.
"For the past three years, who helped him set up those mental health workshops for his rescue team? Who ran the family support group for the squad?
"When his parents had a heart attack and broke a leg, who stayed at the hospital with them? Just because you didn't get a paycheck doesn't mean you didn't put in the work," she said.
I switched off my phone.
"I don't want to drag this out with him," I said.
Sophie was so pissed she started pacing around the living room.
"You're just too nice, that's why they think they can walk all over you," she said.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang.