Chapter 5

Lynn's POV

"Enough!"

Just as I reached for the fifth bottle, Preston suddenly knocked it out of my hand.

Glass shattered across the floor, alcohol splashing onto my dress.

His face was livid as he stared at my pale face, his voice filled with suppressed rage.

"Lynn, are you dead inside? Don't you know when to stop?"

I swayed, seeing only doubles, barely managing an uglier-than-crying smile.

"Mr. Kingsley... I haven't finished yet... the money..."

"Transfer the money to her!"

Preston shouted at his assistant, then grabbed me up from the floor.

"Now. Immediately. Get out of my sight!"

I got the money.

I'd traded my dignity and the unformed life in my womb for it.

I refused the assistant's offer to take me to the hospital. Using my last bit of consciousness, I transferred the money to the hospital.

Then, in the snow by the roadside, I finally couldn't hold on anymore and collapsed.

When I woke again, I was in a hospital room.

No Preston. Only the doctor who'd examined me before.

He looked at me with complicated eyes.

"You lost the baby."

Though I'd expected this outcome, hearing it aloud still felt like my heart had been hollowed out.

"You were brought in hemorrhaging. Fortunately a passerby called 911 in time, or you'd have lost your life too."

The doctor sighed.

"Your body is extremely weak now. In the future... it will be very difficult for you to conceive again."

I lay in bed staring at the ceiling.

Very difficult to conceive again.

This meant the only bond between Preston and me was also severed.

Good.

Really good.

I stayed in the hospital for three days.

During those three days, Preston never came once. He didn't even call.

But Vivienne sent me a photo.

In it, Preston was in the kitchen making porridge, his profile gentle and focused.

The caption read: "My stomach's bothering me. Preston specially made me oatmeal porridge. So warm."

I looked at that photo with a heart like still water.

Once, I'd had stomach pain too.

Preston had just coldly tossed me a box of medicine and said:

"Stop being dramatic. Take your pills and go to sleep. Don't bother me."

So he wasn't incapable of caring for someone. He just didn't want to care for me.

I closed my phone and pulled out the IV needle.

I handled my own discharge paperwork.

When I returned to that so-called "home," Preston wasn't back yet.

I walked into the bedroom, pulled out my suitcase, and started packing.

I didn't have much.

Besides a few changes of clothes, there was only one photo of him and me together.

Our wedding photo.

In it, my smile was stiff. He looked completely indifferent.

I tore the photo into pieces and threw it in the trash.

Then I sat at the desk and pulled out the divorce agreement I'd prepared long ago.

The moment I signed my name, I felt an unprecedented sense of relief.

The sound of the door lock turning came from outside.

Preston was home.

He brought the cold with him. Seeing the suitcase in the living room, he paused.

"Are you going on a business trip?"

His tone was casual, as if the humiliation and hurt from days ago had never happened.

I turned to look at him.

"Preston, let's get divorced."

Preston froze for a moment, then laughed as if he'd heard a joke.

"Lynn, is this your new game?"

He walked over, casually tossing his car keys on the coffee table and unbuttoning his coat.

"Stop messing around. I'm tired. Vivienne wasn't feeling well-I stayed at the hospital with her for three days. Go run me a bath."

While I was in the hospital hemorrhaging from a miscarriage, he was keeping another woman company.

How ironic.

I didn't move. I just pushed the divorce agreement in front of him.

"I'm not messing around. I've already signed it. Look it over and see if there are any issues. If you think the asset division is unfair, I can leave with nothing."

Preston finally sensed something was wrong.

He stared at me for a while, then his gaze fell on the agreement. His expression darkened instantly.

"Lynn, you're serious?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I'm tired of it."

I used the same words he'd once used to humiliate me, throwing them back at him.

"Preston, these three years have exhausted me. I don't want to serve you anymore. Don't you love Vivienne? I'm setting you free."

"Setting me free?"

Preston suddenly grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight it felt like he'd crush my bones.

"Lynn, what right do you have to talk about setting me free? Don't forget-your father is still alive on my money! If we divorce, what will you use to save him?"

I looked at his furious face, my heart completely calm.

"I'll pay back that five hundred thousand slowly. As for the future, I won't trouble Mr. Kingsley anymore."

My father's surgery had been successful. The doctor said with proper rest, he'd recover.

I'd already sold the family's old house. Though the price was depressed, it was enough to repay Preston and cover future medical expenses.

"Fine!"

Preston laughed bitterly and released me with a shove.

"Lynn, this is your choice! Once you walk out that door, don't come crawling back on your knees!"

"I won't."

I picked up my suitcase and looked at him one last time.

This glance held no attachment. Only farewell.

"Preston, goodbye. Or rather, may we never meet again."

I turned toward the door.

Behind me came the sound of a vase shattering and Preston's furious roar.

"Get out! Everyone get out!"

I didn't look back.

I opened the door. Outside, the snow had stopped.

Though it was still cold, I could see the long-absent sunlight.

Finally, I was free.