Chapter 6
433words
I slid into the passenger seat, disheveled, Victoria's handprint still burning on my cheek.
He glanced at me, his eyes hardening. "They did this?"
I collapsed against the leather seat and closed my eyes, too drained for words.
"Let's go home, brother."
We rode in silence as the car glided through the gates of a heavily secured estate.
This was just one of the Turner family's many holdings—deliberately kept off the radar.
"I won't tell Mom and Dad yet. Just focus on healing," Nathan said, showing me to a spacious master suite. "Whatever you need—whatever you want to do—just say the word."
I showered, let the family doctor patch me up, changed into clean clothes, and lay on the king-sized bed, staring at the ceiling until sunrise.
It wasn't grief keeping me awake. It was the past five years playing through my mind like a movie, scene by scene, as I tallied the debt.
On the third day, my old phone pinged with a text from Victoria.
[Finished with your little tantrum? Get back here now. Lily keeps asking for you.]
I nearly laughed at the screen. Same old manipulation.
[Divorce papers. Sign them.]I typed back.
Her response came instantly.
[What the hell are you playing at? Isn't this about money? Come back and I'll pay you more!]
[Sign them.]
[Have you forgotten how you BEGGED me to marry you? You said you'd DIE for me! Who are you trying to fool now?!]
She was dredging up ancient history.
[Sign them.]Those were the only words I had left for her.
After a few more exchanges, she finally went silent.
A week later, she called.
Her voice had softened, with a carefully manufactured catch in her throat. "Ethan, how long will you keep this up? Come home. I was wrong. I shouldn't have hit you."
Her first apology in five years.
Before, I would've been over the moon, thinking all my suffering had been worth it.
Now, my heart was stone, and her words just irritated me.
"I'm not coming back. Sign the papers. It's better for everyone."
"Ethan, please…" Her voice broke with a sob that almost sounded genuine.
"I regret everything. You were so good to me all these years, and I took it for granted. Remember when we first got married? You—"
"Victoria," I cut her off coldly, "doesn't this little act make you sick? Sign the papers and stop calling."
I hung up and immediately blocked her number.
A belated apology isn't worth the breath it takes to speak it.
