Chapter 3

After the concert, I didn't go back to our house. Instead, I walked along the riverwalk.

The sky was filled with a brilliant display of fireworks.

But it couldn't spark a single emotion in my heart.

My phone kept buzzing.

It wasn't Ethan worrying about me.

It was the local news. To celebrate "the perfect end to their anniversary weekend," Ethan had set global social media ablaze by launching a massive firework show on his private island for Chloe.

It wasn't until midnight that I finally unlocked the front door of the house.

The living room lights were on. Ethan was asleep on the couch.

Was he waiting for me?

In our five years together, he was always the one coming home dead drunk.

I used to worry he’d choke or get hurt, calling him dozens of times.

I’d prepare hangover cures early, fearing his stomach would hurt.

Ethan had told me countless times he hated when I did that.

His reason? It made him feel like he was getting old.

My thoughts snapped back.

Maybe he heard the door open, because he suddenly woke up with a start.

The moment he saw me, he rushed over and pulled me into a tight embrace.

"Where were you? Why didn't you pick up my calls? Do you know I was about to call the police?!"

I froze for a second, then gently pushed myself out of his grip and pulled out my phone.

Only then did I realize it was completely dead.

"The cold killed the battery. I didn't get any calls."

Hearing me mention the snow, a rare flash of guilt washed over Ethan’s face.

His lips pressed into a tight line. He awkwardly pulled out a thick envelope and handed it to me.

I took it and opened it. Inside was the complete deed to the Fontainebleau Manor—what should have been my 100th property.

I stared at it.

Once upon a time, I had dreamed of the day Ethan would stand in front of me, offering me a real hug instead of another piece of real estate.

But that was in the past.

Now, my heart was a flatline.

I calmly folded the documents and tossed them casually onto the coffee table.

"Thanks."

Ethan stared at me, his handsome brow furrowing. He couldn't seem to understand my polite indifference.

"Why are you acting like..."

I looked at him, slightly amused.

Perhaps in his mind, I should have gasped at the sight of this multi-million-dollar estate, cried tears of joy, and forgotten all my grievances.

With that thought, I forced a dry chuckle right in front of him.

"Oh, I'm so thrilled. Yay."

"Are you satisfied now?"

I thought Ethan would leave it at that, but my attitude seemed to spark his anger.

"Avery, I only took Chloe to the island for a weekend!"

"And I already gave you the Fontainebleau Manor! How long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum?"

I wasn't intimidated by his dark expression. I calmly plugged my phone into the charger.

"You're misunderstanding. I'm just tired."

Ethan's face tightened. It was the first time he had ever felt such blatant indifference from me.

He bit his lip, reaching out to grab my hand.

But a sharp ringtone broke the silence again.

It was Chloe.

He looked at me, about to explain, but I spoke first.

"You're busy. No need to explain. I understand."

Seeing how "understanding" I was, Ethan looked even more bewildered.

He gripped my hand tighter, desperate to figure out what had changed.

But the phone kept ringing, louder and more urgent.

Finally, under my calm gaze, Ethan slowly let go of my hand.

"Wait for me to get back. I promise I'll make it up to you next year."

With that, he rushed out the door.

I acted as if nothing had happened. I went back to my room, pulled out the "property transfer documents" he had just signed, and turned to the very last page.

The words *Divorce Agreement* were printed clearly on the white paper.

I stared at his signature for a long time, then filed it away safely.

That night, I had the best sleep I'd had in five years.

Once the HR transition was complete, Ethan would never see me again.

***