Chapter 9

Isabelle got divorced.

He left immediately, flying non-stop to Japan that very night.

He went straight to her Tokyo home, beat up the man who had wronged her, and it made international headlines.

The news showed a photo of him escorting Isabelle from her house.

Isabelle's face was bruised and tear-streaked from domestic violence, and she clung pitifully to his chest.

His eyes were full of tender pity, laced with regret for not having protected her.

It was a perfect opportunity.

The first time in six months of trying to escape that his bodyguards and Ben weren't around.

But I didn't leave immediately. I was still holding onto a sliver of hope.

I called his cell phone.

At first, no one answered.

Then, finally, he picked up, only to say "What?" impatiently before hanging up.

Later, I called again in the dead of night.

The phone was answered, but there was no sound.

After a while, I heard Isabelle crying, and Marcus's gentle comforting words.

He said, "It's okay, I'll take care of you from now on."

I didn't listen any further. I threw away the cell phone Marcus had bought for me.

I pried open a drawer, snatched every dollar he'd left behind, and left that very night.

The car's AC wasn't on. It was cold.

His breath plumed white in the cold car, his eyes bloodshot, as if he were holding back tears.