Chapter 3
When I learned it would take two weeks to close my identity records, I decided to return to the villa
in the meantime.
For those two weeks, I had to stay by Rhett’s side, acting like nothing had changed.
Because if he sensed even the slightest trace of something wrong, he’d never let me go.
He’d drag me back before I even made it out the door.
Back at the villa, I started packing.
The photos I once treasured, the love letters Rhett wrote me, the souvenirs we bought while
traveling–I threw them all into the fireplace.
Flames licked at the memories, devouring a love story that now felt absurd, like a cruel joke.
The next day, I went to the backyard.
The tulip field there–he’d planted it himself, for me.
He once said tulips symbolized purity, just like the love he claimed to give me: clean, devoted, with
room for no one else.
I clipped them all down, wrapped the flowers into neat bouquets, and handed them out to the house
staff.
Each bouquet I gave away felt like severing a piece of obsession from my heart.
On the third day, I went to the Brooklyn Bridge.
The love lock was still there, etched with our names.
He’d held me in his arms and tossed the key into the river, promising we’d be together forever.
Now, I cut through the lock with a pair of pliers.
It hit the ground with a sharp metallic clink.
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Chapter 3
I turned and walked away–without looking back once.
When I returned to the villa, two more people were in the living room.
Rhett was on the couch, and Faye was curled up in his arms.
She looked sickly pale, like a gust of wind might blow her away.
I walked past them without a word and started up the stairs.
“Stop,” he said coldly.
I froze, but didn’t turn around.
“Do you know why I brought her back?” he asked.
“I don’t care.”
“After you sent her away, she couldn’t adjust to the environment. She hasn’t slept properly in days.”
His tone was full of blame. “Vivian, apologize to her.”
I finally turned to face them.
Faye clutched his sleeve with trembling fingers, but there was a flicker of triumph in her eyes.
“What if I don’t?” I asked calmly.
‘It’s okay, really…” Faye spoke in her soft, fragile voice. “It’s no big deal. I mean… Vivian is your wife after all.”
He tightened his hold on her immediately.
‘I told you,” he whispered, “you don’t need to be this considerate.”
Then he kissed the top of her head.
‘With me here, you don’t need to hold back. Do whatever you want.”
I smiled faintly. The irony was bitter enough to choke on.
A servant brought over a bowl of herbal calming soup–prepared just for Faye.
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Chapter 3
Just then, Rhett’s phone rang.
He glanced at the caller ID and leaned down to speak to her gently.
“You always get a headache when I talk business. I’ll take this outside. Drink your soup.”
And then he walked away.
I stood there, feeling like someone had split my chest open with an axe.
He used to say business was confidential–he never took any business calls outside for fear of
revealing secrets.
But for her, even that had changed.
Now it was just the two of us in the room.
The sweetness melted from her face. In its place, cold arrogance.
“See that?” she said with a quiet laugh. “You may still be Mrs. Sinclair, and you might’ve sent me away using that title. But Rhett’s body–and his heart–are mine.”
I looked at her coolly. “If you want him, he’s yours.”
She blinked, momentarily thrown off.
Then her face twisted in frustration. “I don’t need your permission! He’ll be mine sooner or later. Even your place–will be mine!”
I didn’t respond. And that silence only made her angrier.
Right then, we heard Rhett’s footsteps approaching from outside.
A flash of something dark crossed Faye’s eyes.
Then, without warning, she picked up the steaming bowl of calming soup-
and dumped it all over herself.
“Ahh!” she screamed.
Tears streamed down her face as the hot liquid soaked her dress.
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Chapter 3
Rhett rushed in to find her trembling, soaked, and crying like a porcelain doll that had just shattered.
“Vivian!” he roared, fury storming between his brows.
“You won’t apologize, fine–but now you’d go this far to hurt her?!”
“It wasn’t me,” I replied calmly. “You can check the surveillance footage.”
“Fine,” he sneered. “Let’s check.”
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