The divorce papers sat on the marble table between us like a death certificate. Ethan Key hadn’t even bothered to look up from his phone when I walked into the mansion I’d called home for four years. Stella Bao clung to his arm like a designer handbag, her crimson nails digging into his sleeve as if I were the intruder.
“Aurora, it’s not what you think,” Ethan started, but his eyes never left the screen.
I didn’t let him finish. “Save it. I came here today only to sign the divorce papers. From now on, you and I are done. No more connections whatsoever.”
Stella laughed—that tinkling, rehearsed sound I’d heard her practice in front of mirrors. “Aurora, when my replacement, Ethan, told me that over the years, you’ve taken good care of him. You’ve taken very good care of him. You’ve worked hard.”
“How I treated him is none of your business.” I pulled a pen from my purse, the same one I’d used to sign grocery lists for Ethan’s specific dietary needs. “I heard you have no status or background. If you didn’t look so much like me, you probably would have never set foot in a mansion like this in your life.”
Ethan finally looked up. His expression was blank, bored even. “Aurora, if you can’t handle it, we can sign the divorce papers later.”
“I heard that in these four years, Ethan never touched you. Not even once.” Stella tilted her head, pity dripping from her voice. “How pathetic.”
My hand didn’t shake. I signed. “Watch your back.”
I walked out before either of them could respond. The elevator doors closed on Stella’s theatrical gasp and Ethan’s half-hearted “Aurora, stop. Take it out on me. Don’t you dare hurt Stella.”
The parking garage smelled like cold concrete and expensive cars I was never allowed to drive. I leaned against a pillar, breathed once, twice, and then my phone rang.
“Ms. Wen.” The voice was formal, practiced. “I’m here to take you home.”
Ryan Gao waited beside a black sedan, his posture stiff, his eyes careful. He was the Gao family’s youngest executive, and six months ago, he’d been a stranger. Now he was my ride out of this life.
“Home,” I repeated, and for the first time in four years, I meant it.
—
