Chapter 2: A Bitter Truth
Julian’s eyes were dark as night, mine cold as ice. The atmosphere in the garage felt suffocating. Instead of distancing herself from him, that girl wrapped her arms around Julian’s neck even more boldly. She whispered something in his ear, and my eyes burned with frustration.
I turned away, opened the car door, and started the engine, determined not to look at them again.
By the time I got home, I heard the sound of a car pulling up downstairs. I was arranging my jewelry in the cloakroom when a towering figure appeared behind me. His familiar masculine scent filled my nostrils. He leaned over me, placing his hands on the glass display case.
“Angry?” he asked.
I ignored his gaze and continued arranging the jewelry, my voice calm, almost indifferent. “Yeah, I want to kill. You’d better guard me.”
There was a pause before he explained, “The Crowe family is interested in cooperating with us on the Polar Star project. I’ve been in contact with their eldest son, Caffrey. That girl is his sister, Rita.”
“What, if you don’t date his sister, he won’t agree to work with you?” I replied, the sarcasm evident in my voice.
He sounded impatient now. “Olivia, I’m giving you a straight explanation—cut the sarcastic remarks!”
“I don’t think there’s any need to explain.” Finally, I turned to face him, meeting his eyes with a cool gaze that seemed to pierce through him. “Julian, if you want a new wife, I can step aside.”
His face darkened in an instant. “What did you say?”
I sighed. “I mean, we can get a divorce.” I tried to push him away.
He pulled me back forcefully, pinching my face with a warning. “You’d better not even think about it.”
I didn’t speak. In truth, I had already thought about it—more than once. I didn’t want him anymore.
Julian stayed home until late that night, only to be called away again by a phone call. I could hear the delicate sobs on the other end of the line.
The next morning, my divorce lawyer and close friend sent me a screenshot: Julian’s girlfriend’s latest social media post. It was a photo of two hands forming a heart against a mountain peak at dawn, with the caption: “Basking in sunrise’s gentleness, our heartbeats sync as one.”
I immediately recognized the larger hand. It was Julian’s.
I sat there with a glass in my hand. After a long time, I placed it down. The sound echoed in the silence of the room, sharp and final. Something inside me shattered a little more, leaving only an empty space where warmth used to be.
Julian didn’t come home for the next few days. We only crossed paths at company meetings, where he sat at the head of the table and I beside him with the others. There was no eye contact between us.
I didn’t visit his office again. Instead, I busied myself with house-hunting and getting rid of all the gifts he had given me over the years—anniversary presents, birthday gifts, Valentine’s Day tokens, and wedding presents.
I even sold the wedding ring. I didn’t need it anymore. What was the point of holding on to relics from a relationship that no longer existed?
That evening, my friend Susan invited me to a fancy club. It was nearly 11 PM, and I didn’t feel like going, but considering I would need connections to start my own business after leaving Shaw Corp, I went anyway.
Susan led me into a large private room, separated by a Chinese screen. I noticed there were several people on the other side of the screen, but she didn’t take me there. Instead, she guided me to a quieter section where only women were sitting. One of them looked vaguely familiar, probably the girlfriend of one of Julian’s friends. She recognized me, looking a bit awkward, but smiled nonetheless.
Susan left, and I picked up my drink, taking a sip. From the other side of the screen, the sound of conversation grew louder. Gradually, the words became clearer. They were talking about me.
“Looks like Julian’s stopped bringing Olivia to our gatherings now.”
“Tell me about it! Miss Crowe is young and beautiful. Julian takes her everywhere.”
“After all these years, he’s finally changed his taste.”
“Olivia may be hot, but eight years of sharing bedsheets—tell me, what heartbeat still quickens at the scent of stale perfume?”
“Isn’t she silly? Years by Julian’s side amounted to nothing but being played for a fool. If Julian dumps her, I’ll comfort her.”
“I’ve been low-key into her curves since college days, you know?”
My eyes turned cold. I recognized two of them. They were Julian’s friends who would always refer to me as “Mrs. Shaw” when they saw me. The woman sitting with me seemed too embarrassed to look at me. When I stood up, she assumed I was leaving, but I cleared my throat and walked toward the screen, drink in hand.
Leaning on the screen, I joined their conversation with a relaxed tone. “Hey, I don’t think so. Julian was all wide-eyed innocence when we started dating. So why does nobody talk about how I might’ve been the one taking advantage of him for eight years?”
The room fell silent for a moment. As I spoke, two tall men entered from the outside. Their expressions shifted from shock to utter despair.
