Chapter 4

Walking out of that restaurant, I didn't feel shame. I felt a grim, quiet sense of victory. I had paid the price she demanded, and in doing so, I had stripped her of her power over me. It was over. I looked down at the signed paper in my hand, her arrogant signature scrawled across the bottom. This was my ticket out.

I didn't hesitate. I went straight from the restaurant back to the Hayes Development building. I walked into the HR department and placed the signed form on the manager' s desk.

"Here you go," I said.

She stared at the signature, then at me, her expression a mixture of shock and pity. She processed the paperwork immediately, her fingers flying across the keyboard as if she was afraid Victoria might call and rescind the order. Within thirty minutes, it was done. My company ID was deactivated. My corporate accounts were closed. I was officially no longer an employee of Hayes Development.

With my professional ties severed, there was only one thing left to do. I took a cab back to the penthouse for the last time. I needed to get the rest of my things.

When I let myself in, the change was jarring. Ryan was fully entrenched. His garish, modern art prints were already leaning against the walls, waiting to replace my architectural sketches. His oversized, ostentatious stereo system was set up in the corner, and the air smelled of his cheap, musky cologne. He was erasing me from the space we had once shared.

I ignored him and went straight to the bedroom. I packed my remaining clothes, my books, and my personal effects. When I was done, I walked over to Victoria' s side of the bed. I took off the heavy gold watch she had given me for our anniversary, the supposed symbol of loyalty. I placed it carefully on her nightstand. Next to it, I laid a thick envelope. Inside were the divorce papers my lawyer had drafted weeks ago, signed by me.

As I was about to leave, my phone buzzed. It was a notification from a news app. A friend had tagged me in a post. I clicked on it. The video from the restaurant was already online, filmed by one of the patrons. The headline read: "Billionaire Developer Victoria Hayes' Husband Kneels and Begs for Divorce!"

The comments were a flood of cruelty and speculation. "What a loser." "She's better off without him." "He probably cheated on her."

I felt a brief, dull ache, but it faded almost instantly. Their opinions were meaningless. I was a stranger to them, and they were a part of a life I was leaving behind. I systematically opened my social media apps-Instagram, Facebook, Twitter-and deactivated each one. I didn't need to see it. I didn't need to be a part of it anymore.

On my way out, I saw a box in the corner of the living room. It was filled with my old architectural models, intricate miniature buildings I had spent hundreds of hours creating. Victoria had always hated them, calling them "clutter."

I picked up the model of the first house I ever designed. It was small but detailed, full of hope and ambition. I walked over to Ryan, who was admiring his reflection in the dark screen of the TV.

I held the model out to him.

"Here," I said, my voice neutral. "A housewarming gift."

He looked at the model, then at me, a confused frown on his face. He took it tentatively. My gesture of complete and utter detachment was so absolute that he didn't know how to react.

I walked to the door, my suitcase in one hand, my briefcase in the other. I pulled out my phone one last time. I opened my contacts list. I found Victoria' s name, held my finger on it, and pressed 'Block.' Then I pressed 'Delete.' I did the same for Ryan. There was no way for them to reach me now. I had cut the final cord.

As I stepped into the elevator, the heavy door sliding shut, I felt the weight of the last five years lift from my shoulders. It was a true, clean break.

Meanwhile, back in her high-rise office, Victoria was feeling triumphant after her public display of power. She decided to call me, perhaps to issue another command or to gloat about her victory. She dialed my number.

It didn't ring. A cold, automated voice spoke into her ear.

"The number you have dialed is not in service. Please check the number and try again."

She frowned. That was strange. She tried again. Same result. A small, unfamiliar flicker of unease went through her. She was used to me being instantly available, a constant she could rely on.

Just then, her private line buzzed. It was the head of HR.

"Ma' am," the woman' s voice was nervous. "I just wanted to confirm that the separation protocol for Mr. Miller has been completed. His corporate accounts and building access have been fully revoked as of five minutes ago, per your signed authorization."

Victoria went still. The pen in her hand dropped onto her desk with a loud clatter.

He did it. He actually did it.

The unease sharpened into a jolt of genuine shock. This wasn' t part of the game. He had taken her public act of humiliation and used it as an exit strategy. For the first time, Victoria Hayes realized she had lost control.