Chapter 3

I booked a first-class ticket back to my parents' estate and called a luxury real estate broker to list my condo on the market immediately.

Just after I hung up with the agent, my phone buzzed with a priority notification.

It was a message from Chloe.

I unlocked the screen. The image that popped up showed my legal wife lying on a plush hotel bed, wearing nothing but sheer black lingerie.

Resting heavily against her bare thigh was a man’s tattooed hand.

I recognized that tattoo instantly.

It was Austin’s.

Staring at the photo, I expected to feel blinding rage. But all I felt was an eerie, hollow numbness.

I locked my screen, laid back on the hotel bed, and closed my eyes.

Early the next morning, my phone started blaring.

Still groggy, I answered. The moment the line connected, Chloe’s furious shrieks erupted through the speaker.

"Logan, are you out of your mind?! I sent you a photo like that and you didn't even react?!"

"Do you even consider me your wife?! Do you still consider yourself a man?!"

"I'm warning you, cut out this childish tantrum and get your ass back to the clubhouse right now. We might still have something to talk about."

"Otherwise, consider yourself officially fired from this team!"

She slammed the phone down before I could reply.

In the past, I would have panicked. I would have called her back dozens of times, begging her not to leave me, apologizing profusely just to soothe her temper.

That was who I was when I loved her.

Now that the love was dead, I couldn't care less.

I thought handing over my racing suit and resignation yesterday made things crystal clear. Apparently, she still thought I was just acting out for attention.

I opened my laptop, drafted a formal, legally binding resignation letter, and emailed it directly to HR and Chloe’s inbox.

Then, I switched my phone to Do Not Disturb and went right back to sleep.

Whenever Chloe and I argued in the past, no matter how much I tried to brush it off, I spent the entire night pacing the floor, agonizing over how to make amends.

Yet today, I slept like a baby. I hadn't felt this light in years.

When I woke up and stepped out of the shower, I checked my phone. Chloe had sent over 99 missed messages, and her number was ringing on call-waiting again.

I swiped to answer.

Her voice was noticeably less shrill this time, replaced by her usual frosty, commanding tone:

"I'm starving. Come home and cook lunch for me."

That familiar, bossy delivery. Every time we had a silent standoff in the past, this was her way of tossing me an olive branch.

The moment she ate my food, our fight was considered over.

To make sure she forgave me, I used to study recipe books late into the night, perfecting every single dish to cater to her picky palate.

During every cold war, she would dangle a sliver of dependence, giving me an excuse to reconcile and smooth things over.

I put up with it because I adored her.

Now that my feelings were gone, it just sounded exhausting.

"You have DoorDash on your phone. Order it yourself."

I hung up cold.

Before I could even set the phone down, it buzzed again.

This time, it wasn't Chloe’s voice on the line. It was Austin’s smug, patronizing drawl.

"Hey, Logan, man, why are you still acting so salty? It was just a little celebratory kiss, no need to blow it out of proportion."

"I was just running on pure adrenaline on the podium, you know? Besides, the media ate it up. It’s huge publicity for the club. We're all doing this for the team's brand."

Chloe’s voice chimed in immediately after. The two of them were standing close enough that their breaths mingled into the microphone.

"Logan, Austin and I are strictly professional. Why won't you just trust me?"

"Everything I do is for the future of this club!"

I was honestly surprised. She was actually trying to offer an explanation.

Whether she believed her own lies was irrelevant; I certainly didn't.

Tired of the pathetic act, I asked flatly:

"Do you even remember the promise we made?"

Chloe went dead silent on the other end, completely blanking. After an awkward pause, she snapped:

"What promise? Why are you bringing up useless nonsense at a time like this?"

Her answer extinguished the very last ember in my chest.

Since she had forgotten every vow we ever shared, there was nothing left to say.

I ended the call and blocked both of their numbers for good.