Chapter 4

"Let’s see what your boss and coworkers think of you."

Derek’s face darkened instantly.

"Chloe, don't push it."

"Push it?"

I let out a bitter scoff.

"When you paraded her right in front of my face, did you think about pushing it?"

"When you lied to me for three whole years, did you think about pushing it?"

"When you told me 'we're too old for romantic nonsense' and then turned around to shower her with roses, did you think about pushing it?"

Derek clenched his fists so tightly his knuckles turned white.

He stared at me, his lips pressed into a thin, vicious line.

"You have three days to wire seventy thousand into my account."

"Once the money clears, I vanish. You two can play house all you want."

"If you don't, I’ll make sure everyone in your life knows exactly what kind of trash you are."

Without another word, I grabbed my coat and walked toward the door.

"Chloe!" Valerie called out, her voice trembling.

I didn't stop.

"Don't call my name. You don't have the right."

The door slammed shut behind me with a heavy, hollow thud.

The sensor light in the hallway flickered on. I leaned against the cold concrete wall for a moment, catching my breath.

Gripping the handrail, I walked down the stairs step by step and stepped out of the apartment building.

A brisk November wind hit my face, biting and cold.

I pulled my coat tighter around myself and hailed a cab.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

I thought about it for a second and gave him the name of a nearby hotel.

I couldn't spend another second in that apartment.

Honestly, I never wanted to set foot in it again.

The hotel room was tiny—just a bed and a small desk. With the heavy curtains drawn, there was no telling whether it was day or night.

I took a shower, turning the water scalding hot.

My skin burned red, but inside, I was still freezing.

After drying off, I sat on the edge of the bed and finally opened the barrage of texts Derek had sent.

"Chloe, calm down. We can talk about the money."

"Seventy thousand is insane. Can we lower it?"

"Where are you right now? Come home and talk."

"Chloe?"

"Stop ignoring me!"

"If you dare post anything online, I swear to God, you’ll regret it."

The last message was an outright threat.

I took a screenshot and backed it up to the cloud.

Then I sent a single reply:

"Three days."

I put my phone on silent and shoved it under the pillow.

The room was dead quiet, save for the hum of the AC unit.

The phone buzzed against the mattress several times. I ignored it.

Eventually, the vibrations became relentless. I pulled it out to check.

It wasn't Derek. It was my mother.

"Chloe, how long have you two been dating now? It's about time you brought him home to meet us."

"Your father got drunk again today. We had another huge blowout."

"When are you coming to visit?"

I stared at the screen for a long time.

My mother had no idea what my life was really like.

In her eyes, I had a stable job and an honest, dependable boyfriend—everything was running smoothly on track.

She had no idea that this "honest" boyfriend had been cheating on me for three years.

She didn't know that her daughter had crouched on a cold curb today, laughing through her tears.

"I'm doing great, Mom."

"I'll bring him over next time."

I set the phone on the nightstand and switched off the lamp.

I didn't sleep a wink all night.

At six in the morning, my eyes snapped open.

It was an ingrained habit built over six years of making breakfast for Derek.

He claimed restaurant food upset his sensitive stomach, so every morning at six, I got up to make oatmeal, fry eggs, and chop fresh fruit.

Six years. Not a single day missed.

This morning, I bought a cold bagel and a bottle of milk from the convenience store downstairs and ate it standing on the sidewalk.

The bagel was dry, and the milk was freezing.

And yet, the sky didn't fall.

Derek's world hadn't collapsed, and neither had mine.

At nine, I arrived at the office like any normal day.

Sitting down at my desk, my monitor lit up with three unread emails.

Instead of checking them, I opened my Notes app.

I began reconstructing the timeline from scratch.

Three years ago, my birthday dinner was on September seventeenth.

Derek's first "business trip" after that was on October ninth.

Valerie first brought up her "new boyfriend" on October fifteenth.

She had told me, "I met this guy recently. He's really sweet."

I had even congratulated her back then.

I typed every single date into my phone, line by line.

At ten-thirty, my coworker Morgan came over with a stack of contracts.

She worked in the legal department, and we were close friends.

After I signed the documents, she didn't leave. She hovered beside my cubicle.

"You look terrible today. Did you pull an all-nighter?" she asked.

"Yeah, just dealing with some stuff."

"What kind of stuff? Want to talk about it?"

I looked up at her. She was wearing a sharp grey blazer, her hair tied back in a neat ponytail.

I hesitated for a second, then asked, "If you found out your partner of six years was cheating on you, what would you do?"