Chapter 7

Nora's POV

He didn't get it—what I cared about was never the necklace. It was his heart, which had completely tilted toward Stella.

I pulled my hand back, clenching it into a tight fist, my nails digging into my palm. I used the pain to hold onto my last shred of dignity.

"Fine. Give it to her." I looked at him and said coldly, "Preston, you'd better remember what you did today."

With that, I turned and walked out.

"Where are you going?" he called after me.

"Home."

I didn't wait for him. I walked straight out of the ballroom.

The night wind outside was cold, cutting through my thin gown.

I wrapped my shawl tighter and walked briskly to the curb to hail a cab.

When I got home, the living room was pitch black.

I didn't turn on the lights. I felt my way to the couch and sat down.

In the darkness, all my senses sharpened.

I heard the clock ticking on the wall, the cars passing outside, and the sound of my own heart breaking.

I don't know how long it was before the door lock clicked.

Preston was home.

He turned on the light, saw me sitting on the couch, and paused.

"Why didn't you turn on the lights?" He walked over, faintly smelling of alcohol.

I said nothing, just looked at him quietly.

He was holding the box with the necklace.

"Stella's asleep. I'll give her the necklace tomorrow." He set the box on the table and sat down beside me, reaching out to put his arm around my shoulder.

I leaned away.

His hand froze in midair, his face darkening.

"Nora, how long are you going to keep this up? I'm exhausted from all these social events. Can't you understand the position I'm in?"

Understand.

I looked at him and suddenly laughed.

"Preston, in these seven years, how many times have I not understood?"

In the early days of his startup, when his cash flow dried up, I sold the house my parents left me to help him through.

When he was hospitalized with stomach bleeding, I took care of him devotedly for a whole month.

When he was too busy to spend time with me, I never complained once.

I gave him all my youth and passion, and what I got in return was disappointment and humiliation, over and over.

"You're tired. I'm tired too." I stood up and looked down at him. "Preston, let's split up."

I said it softly, but it landed like a sledgehammer in the quiet living room.

Preston's head jerked up, his eyes filled with shock and disbelief.

"What did you say?"

"I said, let's get a divorce." I looked into his eyes, my tone calmer than ever.

No hysterics, no tears.

Just a sense of release.

Preston stared at me, his chest heaving violently.

After a long moment, he let out a cold laugh.

"Divorce? Nora, do you think marriage is a game? You get married when you want, divorce when you want?"

He stood up and stepped closer, his eyes carrying a condescending arrogance.

"Don't think threatening me with divorce will make me cave. I'm telling you, it won't happen."

He thought I was playing hard to get.

He thought I couldn't leave him.

I looked at that familiar face and suddenly felt utterly exhausted.

I turned and walked toward the bedroom. "I'll have my lawyer draft the agreement and send it to you."

The door closed behind me.

I leaned against it and let out a long breath.

It was over.

This seven-year war of attrition was finally about to end.