Chapter 3

"I could ask you the same thing, Julian," I said, my voice even. I refused to let him see the turmoil inside me.

He stood up, placing himself between me and Lily, a human shield. It was a gesture so protective, so possessive, it was almost laughable.

"This is not the place for this conversation," he said, his jaw tight. "Get in your car and go home."

It was an order, not a request. The same tone he used with his underlings.

I looked past him to Lily, who was watching our exchange with a dawning, horrified understanding. She was looking at me, then at the bespoke suit Julian wore, and then at my own expensive, understated clothes. The pieces were clicking into place for her.

"I'm not going anywhere until I'm ready," I replied, holding his gaze.

This was a new Scarlett. One he didn't know. The old Scarlett would have crumpled under that glare, would have retreated in shame and confusion. This Scarlett had seen him at his worst and survived.

He took a step toward me, his body radiating menace. "Do not challenge me here."

"Or what?" I asked quietly. "Are you going to have me escorted away? Cause another scene?"

His eyes narrowed. He was a man used to absolute control, and I was an anomaly he couldn't compute.

I decided to end it. I turned to Lily, who was still on the ground, cradling her ankle.

"You should get that looked at," I said, my tone softening slightly. It wasn't her fault. She was a pawn, just as I had been. "Be careful."

Then I turned and walked back to my car without another word to Julian. I didn't look back, but I could feel his furious gaze on me the entire way.

The next morning, I initiated the divorce. Not with a public spectacle, but with quiet, legal precision. I had my lawyer, a man loyal to my family for decades, draw up the papers. The terms were simple: a clean break, no alimony, no property division beyond what was legally mine before the marriage. I wanted nothing from him.

I found Julian in his home office, a vast, sterile room overlooking the city. He was on a conference call, his voice sharp and commanding. I waited silently until he was done.

He hung up and swiveled his chair to face me, his expression unreadable.

"I've filed for divorce," I said, placing the papers on his desk.

He looked at the folder, then back at me. A flicker of suspicion crossed his face.

"After your little performance yesterday, I'm not surprised," he said. "What are your terms?"

"They're in the folder. It's a clean break. I don't want your money, Julian. I just want out."

He opened the folder and read through the pages, his brow furrowed. He was looking for the trap, the angle. He couldn't comprehend that I just wanted to be free of him.

"Why?" he asked, finally. "Why the sudden change? Yesterday you were ready to burn my world down. Today you're walking away with nothing."

"Because I've realized something," I said, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "I've spent five years of my life trying to earn the love of a man who is incapable of giving it. I ran your homes, managed your life, supported your career. I stood by you while you built your empire, and you treated me like a well-compensated employee."

I thought of all the lonely nights, the canceled anniversaries, the cold indifference. I remembered one year, I had spent weeks planning a surprise trip for his birthday, a trip to a remote cabin with no cell service, a place where we could just be together. He had looked at the itinerary, scowled, and told me he couldn't possibly be offline for three days. He never even said thank you.

"You're not a man, Julian," I said, the realization hitting me with the force of a physical blow. "You're a black hole. You don't feel things. You just acquire them. People, companies, art." I paused. "Artists."

Just then, his personal phone, the one he kept for Lily, buzzed on his desk. He glanced at it, and for a split second, the mask slipped. That same look of desperate concern from the street flickered in his eyes. He was worried about her ankle.

He pushed the phone away, forcing his attention back to me. But it was too late. I had seen it.

"She called you, didn't she?" I asked. "You were worried."

He didn't answer. He didn't have to.

"I see now," I said. "It's not that you can't love. It's that you never wanted to love me."

The pain of that truth was sharp, but it was also liberating. It severed the last, lingering thread of hope I might have had.

He stood up and walked to the window, looking out at the city he owned.

"The terms are acceptable," he said, his back to me. "My lawyer will be in touch."

The divorce was finalized in a matter of weeks. Julian, consumed by his obsession with Lily, wanted no complications. He wanted me gone. The day the decree was absolute, I walked through the cold, empty mansion one last time.

I went into our bedroom, to the walk-in closet that was the size of a small apartment. On my side, my clothes were already gone, packed and sent to storage. On his side, his suits hung in perfect, monotonous rows of gray, black, and navy.

There was one picture in the entire house. A single framed photo on his nightstand. It was from our wedding day. We were both smiling, but looking at it now, I could see the truth. My smile was genuine, hopeful. His was a practiced, empty gesture for the camera.

I picked up the heavy silver frame. I looked at the face of the woman I used to be, the naive girl who thought she could find warmth in a glacier. Then, with a calm, deliberate motion, I smashed the glass against the edge of the nightstand.

I pulled the photo from the shattered frame, the jagged edges of the glass threatening to cut my fingers. I looked at his face one last time.

Then, I tore the photograph in half, letting the two pieces of our lie flutter to the floor.

I walked out of that house and never looked back. The first part of my plan was complete. Now, all I had to do was wait for the right moment to disappear.

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