Chapter 2

The man on the other end paused, then let out a delighted, resonant chuckle. His voice was thick with unmasked intrigue:

"Send me the location. I'm picking you up."

The next morning, Brandon glanced at the empty seat to his right at the dining table. He turned toward the maid:

"Mary, tell her to come down for breakfast."

Mary looked up, an expression of confusion on her face.

"Mrs. Vance left early this morning, sir. She had luggage with her."

The fork in Brandon’s hand froze mid-air.

"She left?"

"Brandon, maybe you really should take me home," Luna chimed in softly. "Serena must be furious with me..."

Brandon cut her off with a frosted scowl.

"It's not the first time she's pulled this dramatic runaway stunt. Once she cools off for a couple of days, she'll crawl back on her own."

"Ignore her. Focus on your breakfast."

He pushed a glass of warm soy milk toward Luna.

She sipped it with lowered eyes, her face practically glowing with quiet satisfaction.

Brandon picked his fork back up, intending to resume his meal.

Yet, unbidden, the image of my pale, paper-thin face flashed through his mind, along with my icy, unwavering words and the signed divorce papers left behind on the glass table.

"Tch."

Brandon clicked his tongue, his appetite instantly evaporating.

He stood up, his movements stiffer and more rushed than usual.

"Clear the table."

"Driver, bring the car around. We're going to the office."

Meanwhile, having just checked myself out of the hospital, I found myself right back in one, rushed in by Tristan Hayes. Pushing my battered body to leave prematurely had backfired; my fever had spiked so high in his car that I had passed out completely.

In a hazy, semi-conscious fog, I could vaguely feel someone gently massaging the bruises on my right hand.

"A car accident? What do you mean three critical condition notices were issued? These are lingering complications?"

"Her abdominal incision is showing signs of infection. I'm heading out to have the nurses flush the wound and change the dressing immediately."

"Turn the thermostat up. Where is the IV fluid warmer?"

...

I forced my heavy eyelids open, catching a glimpse of a pair of panicked, strikingly handsome eyes.

"Serena?"

"I'm right here. Go back to sleep. You'll feel better when you wake up."

He wrapped his warm fingers around my freezing right hand, radiating steady heat. Burning up with fever, I couldn't even recognize who he was.

All I knew was that his hands were wonderfully, genuinely warm.

*Beep. Beep. Beep.*

That was the eighth call Brandon had placed to my number. Still no answer.

Whenever I used to throw a tantrum, it took two or three calls at most. Brandon wouldn't even need to apologize, and I would hurry back, desperate to appease him.

"Assistant Sun, go track down—"

Before Brandon could finish his order, a secretary knocked and opened the office door, showing a man inside.

"Mr. Vance, this is Attorney Adams. He insisted on speaking with you, claiming to represent Mrs. Vance."

The attorney adjusted his glasses and gave a crisp nod:

"Good morning, Mr. Vance. I am here on behalf of Ms. Serena Hart."

"I am here to negotiate the terms of your divorce."

Brandon froze for two whole seconds.

Then, a cold, mocking smirk spread across his lips, as if his suspicions had been validated.

"Attorney Adams, is this another one of Serena's cheap little theatrics? Where is she hiding?"

"I run a conglomerate, and I don't have time for her runaway games. Tell her to move back into the penthouse today. Luna has an anxious disposition, and Serena's constant drama is interfering with her physical therapy. When she returns, make sure she offers Luna a sincere apology."

His tone was dismissive and casual, treating this like the petty tantrum of a spoiled child.

Attorney Adams didn't argue.

Instead, he unzipped his leather briefcase and extracted a crisp document.

"Ms. Hart instructed me that if you doubted her intent, I should present this to you."

It wasn't the divorce agreement, but a printed copy of an official corporate press release.

"Per Ms. Hart's instructions, her venture capital firm and all associated holdings officially distributed this announcement to major financial outlets and corporate partners at ten o'clock sharp this morning."

"It formally informs the public that Ms. Serena Hart has initiated divorce proceedings against you."

The smirk on Brandon’s face shattered instantly, his pupils contracting into pinpricks.

Black ink on white paper, stamped with corporate seals.

It was the cold, ruthless, highly public strategy he always loved to deploy.

Only now did Brandon finally realize.

I wasn't throwing a tantrum.

I was truly, irrevocably cutting him out of my life.