Chapter 6

Grace Parker POV

The moment I truly gave up was outside Adrian’s private club.

That day, I went to Attorney Harris to pick up documents, and when I passed the club, I saw Adrian’s car parked at the entrance.

The driver was not there, the car window was half down, and a woman’s scarf lay inside.

I did not want to go in.

But in the next second, I heard someone inside the private room mention my name.

“Adrian Hart, your wife is pretty ruthless this time. She even dared to cut ties with the foundation.”

Another person laughed.

“Aren’t you afraid she’ll run?”

Adrian’s lazy voice sounded.

“Where could she run? The Parker Gallery is in New York, and her father isn’t in good health. She can’t leave.”

“What about Serena? What exactly do you like about her?”

The private room fell quiet for a moment.

Adrian chuckled.

“She’s fresh and clean, not as heavy as Grace. When I’m with her, I don’t have to keep thinking about sickness, death, old paintings, and old debts.”

Someone whistled.

“So you really fell for her?”

“What?”

Adrian sounded as if he had heard a joke.

“I have a wife. As for Serena, I’ll coax her for a while and it’ll pass.”

Outside the door, I stood very steadily.

I did not rush in, and I did not cry.

So in his heart, I was heavy and old, like a house filled with relics.

And Serena was fresh and light, someone who could let him forget responsibility for a while.

Someone inside the room asked again, “Then what if your wife really wants a divorce?”

Adrian’s voice cooled.

“She won’t be able to let go.”

That sentence was clearer than any evidence of cheating.

I turned and left.

Attorney Harris was waiting for me in the parking lot, holding the draft divorce agreement.

When he saw my face, Attorney Harris did not ask more.

“Sign now?”

“Wait for one more thing.”

“What are you waiting for?”

I looked at the lit window on the second floor of the club.

“For him to personally hand me the last chance.”

That night, the ninety-eighth love letter was shredded.

I held the clear jar by the window and watched the paper scraps glow pale under the light.

Only one letter was left.

I did not sleep.

I sat until dawn, organizing my mother’s gallery’s independent account, my residence, my documents, and the lawyer authorization forms.

This time, I did not just want a divorce.

I wanted to truly leave.

The next day, I went to see my father.

He sat in the small garden of the rehabilitation center, with a blanket over his knees.

When he saw me, the first thing he asked was not about Adrian or the gallery.

He asked me, “Did you sleep last night?”

I had prepared a stomach full of explanations, but that one question suddenly made my throat ache.

“I slept for a while.”

He looked at the dark circles under my eyes and did not expose me.

When I told my father about the divorce, he was silent for a long time.

So long that I thought he would advise me to think again, since the Hart family and the Parker family were too deeply connected, and the gallery renovation was not fully settled yet.

But in the end, he only asked, “How long has he been hurting you?”

Suddenly, I could not speak.

He slowly held my hand.

“Grace, if the gallery is gone, it can be rebuilt. If your mother were still here, she wouldn’t let you trade yourself for a gallery.”

That sentence shattered the last bit of hesitation in me.

When I left the rehabilitation center, Thomas asked the driver to take me to the law firm.

I did not refuse.

I finally understood that leaving Adrian was not a pathetic escape I had to make alone.

It could also be my father sending me to take back my own path.

After Attorney Harris left, I backed up the recording I had heard outside the club in three places.

I did not want to use those words to put Adrian on trial online.

That would be too cheap and too noisy.

I only wanted to remind myself not to be coaxed back by a few soft words from him again.

In the middle of the night, Adrian came home.

He stood at the bedroom door, and when he saw that I was still awake, his tone was unusually gentle.

“Where did you go today? You look terrible.”

I closed my laptop.

“The gallery.”

“I’ll find a way to handle the renovation funds.”

He came closer, as if he wanted to touch my hair.

“Stop being angry with me all the time.”

In the past, whenever he lowered his voice like this, my heart would soften.

But now, my mind was full of that sentence.

She won’t be able to let go.

I avoided his hand.

“No need.”

Adrian’s hand stopped in midair, and his brows slowly furrowed.

“What exactly has been wrong with you lately?”

I looked at him and suddenly wanted to ask if he truly did not know, or if he knew and simply thought it did not matter.

In the end, I asked nothing.

Because the answer no longer mattered.

[Paid Cliffhanger]