Chapter 6

Eliza Hodges POV:

I wasted no time. The moment I hung up on Camden, I called my lawyer again, confirming the immediate processing of the divorce papers. My resolve was ironclad. There was no turning back.

The next few days were a whirlwind of activity. I packed meticulously, sorting through years of accumulated belongings. Each item held a memory, but now, instead of clinging to them, I examined them with a detached clinical eye. Sentimental trinkets, clothes that no longer fit the woman I was becoming, gifts from Camden that felt tainted-they all went into donation boxes or the trash. I was shedding my old skin, preparing for a new life. The glass sculptures I had made for myself, the ones he called "trinkets," were carefully crated, ready for their journey to Italy.

On the morning of my departure, as the movers loaded the last of my belongings, I made one final call to Camden. I needed to inform him that the house was now officially empty of my presence. The phone rang, and again, Kai' s voice, sharp and hostile, answered.

"What do you want now, Eliza?" he spat, his tone thick with annoyance.

"I called to let Camden know I've moved out," I replied, my voice steady. "The house is yours. Enjoy."

"It's always been ours!" Kai shrieked, a high-pitched, childish whine. "You were just a placeholder! He never loved you! Now leave us alone, you pathetic old woman!" He cursed, a string of vulgarities, then abruptly hung up. A moment later, my phone buzzed with the familiar notification: 'Kai Hoffman has blocked you.' Again. I almost laughed. Their petty vindictiveness no longer had the power to sting.

My eyes fell on Camden' s side of the bed. The medical report still lay there, a stark white rectangle against the dark duvet. I picked it up, a wry, almost cynical smile touching my lips. The diagnosis was unambiguous: a persistent, aggressive STD. The irony was almost poetic. Camden, the CEO of "Dunn Fitness," the embodiment of health and vitality, was carrying this secret burden.

I placed the report back on the pillow, a silent, damning message. As I closed the bedroom door for the last time, a profound sense of finality washed over me. I wasn' t just leaving a house; I was leaving a life, a persona I had worn for far too long. I had done everything I could. My conscience was clear.

A few days later, my lawyer confirmed that Camden had received the divorce papers. His phone calls began immediately, a relentless barrage of anger, confusion, and then, desperation.

"Eliza, this is insane! What are you doing?! This is some kind of twisted joke, isn't it?" His voice was hoarse, edged with a frantic panic.

"It's not a joke, Camden," I said, my voice flat, devoid of any emotional residue. "It's a divorce. You wanted it, you threatened me with it. Now it's happening."

"No, no, I didn't mean it!" he pleaded, his voice cracking. "Kai... he's just a fling, Eliza! A silly mistake! I'll fire him! I'll break up with him! Just come home, please!" He was groveling, a sight I thought I'd never witness. He even tried to denigrate Kai, calling him immature, naive, a distraction.

I stared at the small, almost invisible cut on my finger, where I' d inadvertently scraped it on a piece of glass earlier. It was a tiny red line, a faint echo of the deep lacerations his betrayals had once carved into my soul. Now, the physical pain was minimal, and the emotional pain, for him, was non-existent.

"Camden," I said, my voice calm, "I suggest you re-read the medical report on your pillow. And I'm not coming home. I've already left. For good."

Through the phone, I could hear soft murmurs, Kai's gentle, solicitous voice. "Baby, what's wrong? Are you okay?" It was sickeningly sweet, a stark reminder of who had replaced me.

I hung up, severing the last fragile thread. I sat there, the phone heavy in my hand, reflecting on the ruin of my marriage. He still couldn't grasp it. He genuinely believed I would eventually return, crawling back to him, as I always had. His arrogance was boundless, even in the face of his own impending collapse.

The immigration procedures for Italy moved slower than I wanted, each day a test of my patience. I yearned for the escape, for the clean slate.

Back in what was now Camden' s house, after a particularly grueling photoshoot with Kai, Camden finally returned home, exhausted. He threw his bag onto the bed, and that's when he saw it: the medical report, lying innocently on his pillow.

He picked it up, his brow furrowed in confusion. As his eyes scanned the document, his face drained of color. The words, clinical and stark, confirmed a diagnosis that shattered his carefully constructed world.