Chapter 2

Easton' s face hardened as he answered the phone, his voice a low growl. "What do you want, Kelly?"

He hit the brakes so hard the car lurched. I could hear her frantic, sobbing voice through the speaker, even with the volume low.

"Don' t you ever threaten me again," Easton snapped, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "You know I' m not joking."

Her crying intensified, becoming a desperate, manipulative wail. It was a sound he' d never been able to resist. I watched the tension in his shoulders, the war on his face. He was a CEO who could command boardrooms and crush competitors, but in the face of Kelly's tears, he was powerless.

After a long, tense silence, he sighed, his entire body slumping in defeat. "Fine. Where are you?"

He hung up and turned to me, his eyes filled with an apology that felt as hollow as our marriage. "Brooke, I' m sorry. She... she' s threatening to do something stupid. I have to go see her. Will you come with me?"

I hesitated. The divorce papers were sitting on our counter at home. My escape was already in motion. This was just one more night of humiliation. One last one.

"Fine," I said, my voice barely a whisper.

We arrived at the Holland family mansion to find Kelly waiting on the porch, her face tear-streaked but her eyes gleaming with triumph. The moment Easton got out of the car, she threw herself into his arms, clinging to him like a vine.

He stiffened, trying to gently push her away. "Kelly, stop."

She just held on tighter, burying her face in his chest. "Don' t leave me, Easton. Please."

He looked over her head, his eyes meeting mine for a brief, helpless moment before he finally gave in, his arms wrapping around her in a gesture of reluctant comfort.

I watched from the driver' s side, a silent, invisible spectator to their endless drama. My heart felt like a block of ice in my chest.

"Brooke," Easton' s voice was strained. "You drive."

It wasn' t a request. It was an order. We were going to her parents' lake house. They were worried about her.

"Easton, I..."

"Just do it, Brooke," he said, his voice sharp with impatience. He didn' t want to argue in front of her.

He got in the back with Kelly, leaving me to take the wheel. I was no longer his wife; I was his chauffeur. The humiliation burned in my gut as I felt the eyes of the Hollands' staff on me. I was the hired help, the placeholder, the substitute.

I started the car, my hands gripping the wheel so tightly my knuckles were white.

In the rearview mirror, I could see Kelly whispering in Easton' s ear, her hand sliding up his thigh.

"Kelly, cut it out," he warned, his voice low and tight.

She pouted, feigning innocence. "I' m just cold, Easton. Hold me."

My stomach churned. I gripped the wheel tighter, focusing on the road ahead.

He glanced at me in the mirror, his eyes filled with a fleeting apology. It meant nothing.

Then, he turned back to her, his voice softening into that familiar, indulgent tone he only ever used for her. "Okay, Kelly. Okay."

I let out a shaky breath, a bitter laugh dying in my throat. What a joke. This marriage, my life for the past five years. It was all a joke, and I was the punchline.

The Holland family rarely interacted with Easton anymore, not since he' d married me. But now, as we pulled up to their sprawling lake house, they rushed out to greet him like a returning king.

"Easton, you' re finally here!" Mrs. Holland exclaimed, hugging him warmly.

"Easton, I knew you wouldn' t abandon our Kelly," Kelly cooed, clinging to his arm possessively.

They swept him inside, a whirlwind of affection and familiarity, leaving me completely alone.

I sat in the car, the engine off, the silence deafening. They had forgotten I even existed.

A few minutes later, my phone buzzed. A text from Easton.

`You can go home first. I' ll stay here tonight.`

My fingers went numb. He didn' t even have the decency to say it to my face. I was dismissed. Sent away like an employee whose shift was over.

I stared at the screen, the words blurring through a film of tears I refused to let fall. It was over. It was finally, truly over.