- Chapter 3
- Her heart was breaking. But her spine remained straight.
- Years of practice had taught her how to wear pain like armor.
- The murmurs around her were sharp as knives. Whispers slithered between silk gowns and tailored suits, voices dripping with pity, amusement, mockery.
- None of them mattered.
- Her eyes were fixed on him. The room fell silent as she stepped forward.
- Her heels clicked against marble, a steady rhythm in the heavy hush. The crowd parted for her, forming a pathway toward the man she had once built her world around.
- She stopped just a breath away, close enough to catch the scent of Catherine’s expensive perfume. Close enough to see the way Stephan’s expression didn’t change.
- No guilt. No hesitation.
- Just mild annoyance.
- Valerie lifted her left hand, the diamond ring catching the chandelier’s light—the ring he had given her years ago.
- With slow, steady fingers, she slipped it off. She held it for only a second before reaching for his palm, pressing it into his hand.
- “I seems like you’ve forgot something, Stephan.”
- Her voice was calm, but it carried across the room like a gunshot. For the first time that evening, he actually looked at her. Saw her.
- His gaze flicked down to the ring, then back to her, a flicker of irritation crossing his face.
- “Valerie,” he said, voice sharp. “Don’t make a scene.”
- The old Valerie would have.
- She would have flinched at his tone. She would have apologized, lowered her gaze, swallowed the humiliation burning in her throat.
- But something inside her had already snapped. The pain of his betrayal had burned away her fear.
- She met his eyes, unblinking. Let him see the steel beneath her soft exterior.
- “I’m not making a scene,” she said, her voice even, firm. “I’m finally making the right choice.”
- Catherine shifted closer, her red lips curving into a mocking smile.
- “Honey,” she purred, tilting her head against Stephan’s shoulder, “perhaps you should have security escort her out.”
- Valerie didn’t react. She didn’t even blink. But she noticed the way Stephan smirked, cold, condescending.
- It was the same expression he had worn for long countless months, slowly pushing her further and further into nothingness.
- “Where will you go, Valerie? You have nothing.” His voice dropped lower, crueler. “You are nothing without me.”
- Nothing.
- The word should have hurt.
- It should have sent her spiraling, breaking her down into the weak, invisible thing he believed she was. Instead, it did something else.
- A door inside her, long shut and buried, creaked open. And for the first time in years, she let herself remember who she really was.
- She smiled.
- Not the sweet, hopeful smile she had once given him. Not the quiet, desperate one that had begged for his love.
- This smile was slow. Sharp. Poisonous.
- “That’s where you’re wrong,” she calmly said.
- She didn’t wait for his reaction. She turned and walked away.
- The night air hit her face as she stepped outside, cool and clean, chasing away the suffocating warmth of the ballroom.
- Her fingers didn’t shake as she reached for her phone.
- She had buried this number for years. Had ignored it. Pretended it didn’t exist.
- Because using it meant returning to the life she swore she would never go back to. For her own safety perhaps. But she had nowhere else to turn now.
- The screen glowed against the darkness as she scrolled through old contacts, stopping at the one name she had tried to forget.
- She pressed the call.
- The line rang once. Twice. Three times.
- Then, the call connected. A voice answered—deep, familiar, and knowing.
- Silence stretched between them for a beat. Then, the voice finally spoke.
- “I was wondering when you’d finally come home, Celeste.”
