Things wrapped up fast after that. Fonda didn't put up much of a fight, and my injuries weren't anything dramatic—just a few scrapes and bruises. I skipped the hospital, got some quick bandaging, and went straight to the station to give my statement.On the way there, sitting in the police car, I glanced at Tyler. "How'd you even know something happened to me?"His face tightened, fear still lingering in his eyes. "I wanted to ask what you had for lunch, but you didn't respond to my messages. You weren't answering calls either, so... I knew something was wrong."He lifted a hand toward my bandaged arm, hesitated, then let it fall back. "I even checked with your assistant. When no one knew anything, I called the police. But it was still too late."Something about his words made me squirm. "You weren't that late, though. I'm alive, aren't I? Don't make it sound like you're jinxing me or something."He gave a half-smile, clearly at a loss for words.I let out a quiet sigh of relief.
Fonda got a life sentence, thanks to my legal team.Afterward, I subtly steered public opinion, spinning the kidnapping into high-society scandal gold. People couldn't get enough of the messy drama, diving into my history with Tom like it was a soap opera.Unsurprisingly, Tom Luke's name blew up online, trending for all the wrong reasons. His company took a massive hit from the infidelity backlash, while I became the poster woman for independence and resilience. With all the positive press, SP Corp's stock soared.It didn't take long for Tom's struggling company to end up on the chopping block. I was right there at the table, knife and fork in hand, ready to claim my share.Tom tried to contact me at first—calls, emails, even showing up uninvited. But eventually, he gave up and disappeared.As for Fonda, I heard years later that she got an early release for good behavior. Not that it mattered. By then, we were in entirely different worlds, and I never saw her again.I buried myse
Our seventh wedding anniversary. I sat at the dining table—alone.My phone buzzed, lighting up with two messages.First, from Tom: [Working late at the office tonight.]Second, anonymous: [Tom is incredible. Can you even keep up?]Attached was a picture of him, lips locked with a woman I didn't recognize.I blew out the candles on the anniversary cake, my chest hollow. No reply from him. Typical. Probably "working overtime" in someone else's bed.Outside, the weather was just as miserable—cold, drizzling, and perfect for making my knees ache worse than usual.At the print shop, the guy handing me the divorce papers hesitated. "You should think this through before making rash decisions."I forced a smile, clutching the papers. "I've thought about it long enough."Long enough.Tom's secretary—the homewrecker—had been pulling every trick in the book to push my buttons.It worked—for a while. She drove me to hysterics, paranoia, and desperation. But now? I was done. She could
Fonda's little stunt wasn't for nothing—Tom and I finally got divorced.The asset division was fast. Tom did everything to cut my share as much as possible, but I didn't bother fighting. I threw a few clothes into a suitcase, dragged it to the door, and left."Selene, you'll regret this!" he yelled.I paused, glanced back with a calm smile, and said, "I've been regretting it for years."Then I walked out, never looking back.Of course, it started raining.My knees ached, the kind of sharp, biting pain that made my eyes water.Seven years ago, I was a headline: [Spencer Heiress Breaks Off Engagement for Love]. A spoiled rich girl giving it all up for her college sweetheart—a classic romance.Seven years later? Tom was a self-made success, a name people respected. And me? I was walking out with nothing but a battered heart and an empty suitcase.It was ridiculous. No, beyond ridiculous.Back in college, Tom had been this shy, hardworking top student. Meanwhile, I was the elegan
I wandered down the streets, the rain making my knees ache with every step. No big plans, just a vague idea: find a motel for the night, then figure out a job and maybe an apartment. Solid life plan, right?Digging through my wallet, I was counting my meager cash when something caught my eye—a membership card. Soirée. Back in the day, it was my stomping ground as the Spencer family heiress. High-end, exclusive, dripping in luxury. Tom used it for business schmoozing later on, but I hadn't set foot there in years.The card gave access to private rooms. Could I crash there? On a couch? The idea made me snort. At sixteen, I'd stacked champagne glasses there to celebrate piano wins. Now I was scheming how to freeload for the night.I hopped on a bus and headed to the club. Inside, it was all sparkle and shine, with glitzy carpets and chandeliers. My rain-soaked clothes stuck out like a sore thumb, but the receptionist didn't blink. Polite, professional.The room wasn't huge, but hey, i
For a moment, I thought Tom and Tyler were about to throw punches. But they didn't.Because Fonda showed up.That's when I realized Tom hadn't come here alone—he'd brought her.The irony burned. Seven years of marriage, and not once had he brought me to Soirée. I knew this place better than most, but he'd always made excuses, even flat-out refused to let me come back.But now? He had no problem flaunting his mistress like she owned the place."Mr. Luke, everyone's waiting for you—" Fonda's voice faltered as she noticed the scene. Then she plastered on one of her signature, confident smiles."We're just here to celebrate my pregnancy. Did you really need to drink so much?" Fonda teased, stepping forward to steady Tom. Her eyes flicked to me, sharp with hostility. "Come on, look at you. Let's go home."Tom's clenched hand slowly relaxed, but his gaze stayed locked on me.Fonda's smile wavered, just slightly, before he finally seemed to snap out of it.Wrapping an arm around her
When I got home, it wasn't even mealtime, but the table was already set, dishes steaming.Right in the center was a huge plate of shrimp—my favorite. Tom was allergic to seafood, and it hit me: I hadn't eaten shrimp in seven years.The moment my mom saw me, tears spilled down her cheeks."Let's eat first," she said, brushing them away, like she didn't want to ruin the moment.I nodded, sitting down. It had been so long since I'd tasted my mom's cooking that I'd forgotten what it was like. But the second I took a bite, memories came rushing back.Blinking fast, I swallowed hard, holding back tears as I quietly kept eating."What's all the crying about?" My dad's voice came from the living room.He walked in, stiff and cold, his coat still carrying the chill of winter."Crying, crying, always crying," he said sharply. "I warned you this would happen, but no—you just had to go your own way. Determined to marry that guy, and now look at you. Crying over the mess you made.""Enough
I wrapped up my debut with poise and confidence, leaving an impression that made it impossible for future partners to dismiss me.If I played my cards right, my messy past could shrink into a footnote—a fleeting tale of youthful recklessness.When the gala finally ended and the guests had trickled out, only one outsider lingered.Tyler stood next to my dad, his posture stiff, his gaze lowered like he was deep in thought.I had a feeling what was coming, and my father confirmed it with his next words."Selene, Tyler mentioned that now you're divorced, your engagement could be reinstated. What do you think?"Tyler's head shot up, his eyes locked on mine, full of hope.I glanced away, turning to my dad with a practiced smile. "An engagement? That's not even on the table right now. My career comes first. Getting engaged so soon after a divorce wouldn't exactly help my reputation—or my growth."Dad nodded, respecting my answer. He always did, except for the one time I'd recklessly c
Fonda got a life sentence, thanks to my legal team.Afterward, I subtly steered public opinion, spinning the kidnapping into high-society scandal gold. People couldn't get enough of the messy drama, diving into my history with Tom like it was a soap opera.Unsurprisingly, Tom Luke's name blew up online, trending for all the wrong reasons. His company took a massive hit from the infidelity backlash, while I became the poster woman for independence and resilience. With all the positive press, SP Corp's stock soared.It didn't take long for Tom's struggling company to end up on the chopping block. I was right there at the table, knife and fork in hand, ready to claim my share.Tom tried to contact me at first—calls, emails, even showing up uninvited. But eventually, he gave up and disappeared.As for Fonda, I heard years later that she got an early release for good behavior. Not that it mattered. By then, we were in entirely different worlds, and I never saw her again.I buried myse
Things wrapped up fast after that. Fonda didn't put up much of a fight, and my injuries weren't anything dramatic—just a few scrapes and bruises. I skipped the hospital, got some quick bandaging, and went straight to the station to give my statement.On the way there, sitting in the police car, I glanced at Tyler. "How'd you even know something happened to me?"His face tightened, fear still lingering in his eyes. "I wanted to ask what you had for lunch, but you didn't respond to my messages. You weren't answering calls either, so... I knew something was wrong."He lifted a hand toward my bandaged arm, hesitated, then let it fall back. "I even checked with your assistant. When no one knew anything, I called the police. But it was still too late."Something about his words made me squirm. "You weren't that late, though. I'm alive, aren't I? Don't make it sound like you're jinxing me or something."He gave a half-smile, clearly at a loss for words.I let out a quiet sigh of relief.
I woke up in an abandoned factory.Tied to a chair, my head throbbed like I'd been clocked pretty hard. I scanned the room, spotting two massive guys in black standing guard.Stay calm, I told myself. Reason with them. "How much do you want? My family can pay. Just don't—""Shut up!"A sharp voice cut me off, and Fonda stormed in, looking like hell. Her eyes burned with pure rage.She didn't waste a second—walked right up and slapped me. Hard.The sting was brutal, blood pooling in my mouth with that gross metallic tang.She grabbed my collar, her face inches from mine as she screamed, "Why? WHY? Even after you divorced him, he still thinks about you! I'm the one carrying his child! And he made me get rid of it—killed my baby because he wants to crawl back to YOU! WHY?"Her words hit like a truck. For a second, everything went fuzzy.Tom. Again. I hadn't seen him in two months, yet here I was, still stuck in his orbit of chaos.Fonda's rant turned messy, spiraling into jabs a
I wrapped up my debut with poise and confidence, leaving an impression that made it impossible for future partners to dismiss me.If I played my cards right, my messy past could shrink into a footnote—a fleeting tale of youthful recklessness.When the gala finally ended and the guests had trickled out, only one outsider lingered.Tyler stood next to my dad, his posture stiff, his gaze lowered like he was deep in thought.I had a feeling what was coming, and my father confirmed it with his next words."Selene, Tyler mentioned that now you're divorced, your engagement could be reinstated. What do you think?"Tyler's head shot up, his eyes locked on mine, full of hope.I glanced away, turning to my dad with a practiced smile. "An engagement? That's not even on the table right now. My career comes first. Getting engaged so soon after a divorce wouldn't exactly help my reputation—or my growth."Dad nodded, respecting my answer. He always did, except for the one time I'd recklessly c
When I got home, it wasn't even mealtime, but the table was already set, dishes steaming.Right in the center was a huge plate of shrimp—my favorite. Tom was allergic to seafood, and it hit me: I hadn't eaten shrimp in seven years.The moment my mom saw me, tears spilled down her cheeks."Let's eat first," she said, brushing them away, like she didn't want to ruin the moment.I nodded, sitting down. It had been so long since I'd tasted my mom's cooking that I'd forgotten what it was like. But the second I took a bite, memories came rushing back.Blinking fast, I swallowed hard, holding back tears as I quietly kept eating."What's all the crying about?" My dad's voice came from the living room.He walked in, stiff and cold, his coat still carrying the chill of winter."Crying, crying, always crying," he said sharply. "I warned you this would happen, but no—you just had to go your own way. Determined to marry that guy, and now look at you. Crying over the mess you made.""Enough
For a moment, I thought Tom and Tyler were about to throw punches. But they didn't.Because Fonda showed up.That's when I realized Tom hadn't come here alone—he'd brought her.The irony burned. Seven years of marriage, and not once had he brought me to Soirée. I knew this place better than most, but he'd always made excuses, even flat-out refused to let me come back.But now? He had no problem flaunting his mistress like she owned the place."Mr. Luke, everyone's waiting for you—" Fonda's voice faltered as she noticed the scene. Then she plastered on one of her signature, confident smiles."We're just here to celebrate my pregnancy. Did you really need to drink so much?" Fonda teased, stepping forward to steady Tom. Her eyes flicked to me, sharp with hostility. "Come on, look at you. Let's go home."Tom's clenched hand slowly relaxed, but his gaze stayed locked on me.Fonda's smile wavered, just slightly, before he finally seemed to snap out of it.Wrapping an arm around her
I wandered down the streets, the rain making my knees ache with every step. No big plans, just a vague idea: find a motel for the night, then figure out a job and maybe an apartment. Solid life plan, right?Digging through my wallet, I was counting my meager cash when something caught my eye—a membership card. Soirée. Back in the day, it was my stomping ground as the Spencer family heiress. High-end, exclusive, dripping in luxury. Tom used it for business schmoozing later on, but I hadn't set foot there in years.The card gave access to private rooms. Could I crash there? On a couch? The idea made me snort. At sixteen, I'd stacked champagne glasses there to celebrate piano wins. Now I was scheming how to freeload for the night.I hopped on a bus and headed to the club. Inside, it was all sparkle and shine, with glitzy carpets and chandeliers. My rain-soaked clothes stuck out like a sore thumb, but the receptionist didn't blink. Polite, professional.The room wasn't huge, but hey, i
Fonda's little stunt wasn't for nothing—Tom and I finally got divorced.The asset division was fast. Tom did everything to cut my share as much as possible, but I didn't bother fighting. I threw a few clothes into a suitcase, dragged it to the door, and left."Selene, you'll regret this!" he yelled.I paused, glanced back with a calm smile, and said, "I've been regretting it for years."Then I walked out, never looking back.Of course, it started raining.My knees ached, the kind of sharp, biting pain that made my eyes water.Seven years ago, I was a headline: [Spencer Heiress Breaks Off Engagement for Love]. A spoiled rich girl giving it all up for her college sweetheart—a classic romance.Seven years later? Tom was a self-made success, a name people respected. And me? I was walking out with nothing but a battered heart and an empty suitcase.It was ridiculous. No, beyond ridiculous.Back in college, Tom had been this shy, hardworking top student. Meanwhile, I was the elegan
Our seventh wedding anniversary. I sat at the dining table—alone.My phone buzzed, lighting up with two messages.First, from Tom: [Working late at the office tonight.]Second, anonymous: [Tom is incredible. Can you even keep up?]Attached was a picture of him, lips locked with a woman I didn't recognize.I blew out the candles on the anniversary cake, my chest hollow. No reply from him. Typical. Probably "working overtime" in someone else's bed.Outside, the weather was just as miserable—cold, drizzling, and perfect for making my knees ache worse than usual.At the print shop, the guy handing me the divorce papers hesitated. "You should think this through before making rash decisions."I forced a smile, clutching the papers. "I've thought about it long enough."Long enough.Tom's secretary—the homewrecker—had been pulling every trick in the book to push my buttons.It worked—for a while. She drove me to hysterics, paranoia, and desperation. But now? I was done. She could