Chapter 11

Vivian Shaw POV

When I woke up again, I was lying in the bed in my own room.

The blood and mud on my body had been cleaned away, replaced with soft silk pajamas.

The room was empty. Heavy curtains were half-drawn, letting in a dim ray of light.

I stiffly turned my head, reaching for my phone on the pillow. The screen lit up, the glaring light making me squint.

There was only one text message, from Ethan.

"Vivian, Quinn was frightened and her emotions are unstable. I'm taking her to the hospital first. Rest well. I've had the butler treat your injuries. I'll explain everything when I get back. I'll compensate you."

Compensate.

Compensation again.

I stared at those words, finding it utterly laughable, absurd to the extreme.

When did "compensation" become all that was left between us? When you truly like someone, you cherish them. There's no need for the word "compensation" to make up for debts.

Ethan, I don't like you anymore.

So your compensation. I don't want it at all anymore.

I only hope to sever all ties with you as soon as possible, leave this place, get far, far away, and never again endure this bone-cutting torture.

Just then, my phone vibrated again.

This time, the notice came from the court.

"Ms. Shaw, your divorce from Mr. Ethan is now final. The divorce decree will be mailed to your address."

It was really over.

I gripped my phone, my knuckles turning slightly white from the force. I looked at that short text for a long, long time, so long that the screen's light automatically turned off, and I lit it up again.

Then I tilted my head back and slowly, gradually, exhaled a long breath.

That breath seemed to expel all the grievances, pain, struggles, and unwillingness accumulated over these five years of marriage, along with the last trace of hope for that person, all expelled from my body.

I threw off the covers and, enduring the bone-deep soreness throughout my body, got out of bed and began final preparations.

Actually, there wasn't much left to pack. Those things belonging to "Mrs. Blackwood," the luxurious clothes and jewelry, I had already picked out and left in the closet. Most of the things belonging to Vivian Shaw I had already packed.

I folded the last few pieces of old clothes I wore regularly and put them in the suitcase, pulling the zipper closed with force.

Three o'clock in the afternoon. Takeoff.

I dragged my suitcase downstairs. The butler was directing servants to clean the living room. Seeing me, he was clearly stunned. "You're..."

"I'm leaving." I stopped and looked calmly at this old man who had taken care of me for several years. "Thank you for looking after me all these years."

"What are you saying?! Does the sir... does he know?" The butler looked completely bewildered, trying frantically to stop me.

"He and I are already divorced." I smiled faintly. "Starting today, I'm no longer Ethan's wife."

I dragged my suitcase out the front door. The morning breeze blew in my face. I took a deep breath of free air and hailed a cab straight to City Hall.

When I received that divorce certificate, my hands trembled slightly. I opened the thin booklet and glanced at it.

On it, my name and Ethan's were finally side by side, yet completely separated by that certificate.

How wonderful.

This long dream that had flayed and dismembered me was finally over.

I took a cab to the airport, completed check-in procedures, checked my luggage, and sat in the departure lounge watching planes take off and land outside.

My phone suddenly rang urgently.

Caller ID: Ethan.

I looked at those three words, not a ripple rising in my heart. I didn't answer, letting it ring until it automatically disconnected.

He called again, over and over, hysterically, relentlessly.

The phone vibrated in my palm, annoyingly noisy. Expressionless, I long-pressed the power button, slid the screen, and decisively turned it off.

A sweet boarding announcement came over the loudspeaker.

I stood up, dragging my suitcase, and walked toward the gate without looking back.

When the plane took off, a huge roar filled my eardrums. I turned my head to look out the window.

That city that had trapped me for five years grew smaller and smaller until it was completely obscured by white clouds. In my heart was an unprecedented calm.

Goodbye, Ethan.

Goodbye to that humble, people-pleasing past.

The plane pierced through thick cloud layers, flying toward the sky, toward the blinding sun, flying toward my new life.