Chapter 4

Chloe's POV

I don't even know how I survived that night.

The next day, I put on a thick layer of makeup to hide my ghost-like paleness and took a cab to the Vance Enterprises headquarters.

The door to the CEO's office was slightly open.

As I approached, I heard laughter from inside.

"Julian, this macaron is so sweet. Try a bite."

It was Scarlett's voice.

Then came Julian's low, indulgent chuckle. "I don't like sweets. You eat it."

"No, you have to try it."

I pushed the door open.

On the leather sofa, Scarlett was sitting on Julian's lap, holding a pink macaron to his lips.

Julian hadn't refused. He was holding her hand, taking a bite.

Hearing the door, they both turned.

Seeing me, Julian's brow furrowed. He pushed Scarlett off his lap and stood up, adjusting his suit jacket.

"What are you doing here? Who let you up?"

His voice was laced with irritation.

Looking at the crumbs on his lips, I felt incredibly sick.

"I'm here to discuss the breach of contract fees," I said, my voice empty of any emotion. "Because of your PR team's stunt, I am facing thirty million dollars in fines."

"It's just thirty million," Scarlett chimed in with a giggle, wiping her fingers with a silk handkerchief. "Julian spends more than that on a single sports car. Miss Lynn, coming here to beg for money is a bit embarrassing, don't you think?"

Julian looked at me coldly. "I told you, I'll take care of the money. Deal with the financial department directly. There's no need to come to my office and cause a scene."

"Cause a scene?" I let out a dry laugh. "Julian, you ruined my career, dragged my name through the mud, and you think I'm just causing a scene?"

"Chloe Lynn!" Julian's voice raised, his eyes sharp. "How much is that stupid social media account even worth? I can support you for the rest of your life easily! Do you really have to fight with me over such a trivial thing?"

A stupid account.

A trivial thing.

I looked at this man who was once my whole world. He looked so foreign now.

I thought he understood me.

I thought he understood my passion for cooking, the sleepless nights I spent developing recipes.

But to him, my dreams were just a cheap hobby that could be paid off.

"Julian, I lost my sense of taste."

I looked directly into his eyes.

Julian froze for a split second, then his scowl deepened. "What game are you playing now? Are you seriously making up a medical lie just to get me to retract the PR statement?"

He didn't believe me.

He actually thought I was lying.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.

"Believe whatever you want."

I pulled a document from my bag and slammed it onto his desk.

"These are the final divorce papers. I don't want a single penny of your assets. I'll figure out the thirty million on my own."

Julian's eyes locked onto the papers, his pupils shrinking.

"Chloe, have you lost your mind?!" Julian snatched the papers, ripped them in half, and hurled them onto the floor.

"Without me, how are you going to pay thirty million? By begging on the streets?!"

"I'd rather beg on the streets than stay here as your dirty secret!" I yelled back, refusing to back down.

Slap!

Julian slammed his hand onto the desk in fury, making his coffee cup rattle.

"Fine! Great! You've got guts, Chloe!"

He pointed toward the door, laughing in anger. "If you walk out that door today, don't you dare come back crawling to me. I won't help you even if you beg on your knees!"

Without a second thought, I turned and walked out.

"Julian, don't be mad. She just doesn't appreciate how good you are to her..." Scarlett's voice faded behind me.

I didn't look back.

Stepping out of the corporate building, the bright afternoon sun blinded me.

I didn't cry. My tears had run dry last night.

I went back to the penthouse we shared, packed only a few clothes, and left all the jewelry, designer bags, and even my wedding ring on the table.

When the heavy door clicked shut, I knew my twelve years with Julian Vance were officially over.

That night, I rented a cheap basement apartment in Queens.

I boiled some cheap pasta in plain water.

No salt. No oil.

I forced myself to swallow it.

But as I chewed, my tears slipped into the bowl.

I had no taste.

I could never make Julian's favorite soup again.

But that was fine. He didn't need it anymore.