Chapter 8
“You still have the nerve to bring up the
past? I told you, I never want to see you again.”
The words came out sharper than I intended, my voice slightly trembling with the weight of years of anger, hurt and resentment. The moment I saw Ray again, I could already feel the old, familiar fire rising in my chest.
I couldn’t help but remember how he always prided himself on his dignity. A man of pride who would never be caught in a public scene of humiliation. If I’d said these words to him three years ago, in front of others, I knew the explosive rage that would have followed. The kind of anger that could easily turn violent if I pushed. him too far. But not today. Not this time.
Instead of the fury I expected, his lips. twitched upward and a smile–genuinely amused, yet bittersweet–spread across his
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face. He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving mine and before I could fully process his actions, his hand was on my cheek.
His touch sent an involuntary shiver down. my spine, not from affection, but from the stark reminder of who he had been–and what he still thought I was to him.
“So you’re finally willing to admit it,” Ray murmured, almost tenderly. His thumb brushed over my skin as though he hadn’t been the cause of my deepest pain.
I met his gaze coldly, blinking away the unwanted wave of memories that threatened to cloud my mind. “That’s right, I’m Susan. I didn’t die.” The words were flat, but my heart raced with emotions that I refused to give into.
Ray’s eyes softened and his lips curled into a smile of satisfaction. It was almost as if he thought his persistence had finally paid off. He seemed genuinely pleased to see me standing before him, alive, breathing. But
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that satisfaction felt like a slap in my face. Did he really think he could walk in, say a few words and everything would go back to the way it was?
I gathered up my drawing tools from the table, the rhythmic movement of my hands. almost mechanical as I packed them away. The mundane action grounded me in the reality that I wasn’t interested in anything he had to say. Not anymore.
When I stood to leave, he froze. Panic
flickered across his face before his hand.
shot out, gripping my wrist with surprising
urgency.
“Susan, life without you has been unbearable. You’ve been gone for three years, hiding from me for three years. It’s time to come home.”
A bitter laugh escaped me as I pulled my wrist free from his grasp, staring at him with a mixture of disdain and disbelief. I wiped the spot on my face where his fingers had brushed against my skin, as if
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apter 8
ke a sis touch could be scrubbed away like a
could in.
hing waing
ay,” I said with a calmness that belied the
rm inside me, “it’s been three years and vingiare still as self–absorbed as ever. Has ovenyone ever told you how pretentious you I pack la?”
Youngrou
aused, letting the silence hang thick
extterst
tween us. “Don’t think I don’t know.
More mon
u’ve already brought Christine into your hede, hne. And now, you’ve chased me all the iceshfaceb to France to ask me to come back?
visity is a good thing–you should hold on
out you face twisted in disbelief as I spat the
ve beends at him. It was the first time I’d seen efore forerfect composure crack, but even me.” in, he still didn’t fully understand. Het
In’t know the truth behind my departure, caped me.
“depth of the betrayal. He only knew his is grasp selfish desires.
of disdaina
in my faten, as long as you agree to come back
shed again me, I’ll divorce Christine immediately.
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Chapter 8
In my eyes, she’s not even worth a single strand of your hair.”
I couldn’t help but scoff at his words. This was the first time he had ever belittled Christine in front of me. The woman he once doted on, the one he placed on a pedestal. It was laughable. He had once protected Christine at all costs, even at the expense of others. I knew well how he had used his power and influence to blacklist anyone who dared challenge her- especially women who posed a threat to her in the industry. But that power
ver had crumbled. The glossy exterior of his life had begun to decay in the face of reality.
“Ha, I’m not interested in your drama,” I said, rolling my eyes. “And let me correct you. If you divorce Christine, it’s not because of me. I heard she’s been unfaithful. Even the child she had might not be yours, isn’t it?”
I let the words hang in the air, watching as his face contorted in discomfort. I wasn’t
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sure if it was guilt, regret, or shame that flickered across his expression, but it was there, undeniable.
“Don’t get me wrong,” I added with a cold smile, “I don’t care about your life. But I saw some hilarious online videos criticizing you two. They stuck with me.”
At that, Ray’s mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. His silence was a victory for me, a small, yet sweet reprieve from the years of his control. I could feel the weight of his shame in the way he stood there, speechless and broken. He had nothing left to say.
I knew full well that his marriage to Christine had been a disaster from the
start. Christine had a long history of causing chaos in the entertainment world, entangled in countless scandals, some of which had been too embarrassing for even Ray to shield her from. Her reputation was at tarnished and so was his. The Palmer
the
Group, once a powerful name, had seen its
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stock prices plummet. Without my family’s connections and influence, Ray was
nothing more than a puppet struggling to stay afloat.
And now, he was here, in front of me, pleading for a second chance as if I hadn’t seen through every lie, every betrayal.
But Ray wasn’t the only one who had changed. I had become someone stronger, more resolute. And I had learned one thing in the three years since I’d walked away: no amount of flowers, promises, or sweet words would ever bring me back.
He didn’t hesitate to fly across the world at the slightest rumor about me. He showed up at my gallery every day, holding bouquets of red roses, his presence an unwelcome interruption to my new life. He even caused scenes in front of my clients and students, as if they were mere background noise to his desperate quest for redemption.
But that last straw came when I could no
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longer ignore the incessant disturbance. I grabbed a bucket of paint, not caring about the mess I would make and stormed
outside.
