I blinked, startled. I hadn’t seen it coming. Before I could react, someone shoved me hard from behind, knocking me to the ground—only for Celeste to be scooped into strong, protective arms.
My chest ached as though it might split in two, and then came the final blow—Lucas turned to me, his eyes filled not with love but with anger.
“What the hell, Liora? Celeste came here just to greet you, and you lashed out at her without warning?”
His glare cut through me. In that moment, I was no longer his wife in his eyes—just someone to blame.
I swallowed hard and met his stare with one of my own. “She insulted my mother. She called me useless. Do you really think I’d stay quiet about that? Especially when you never explained what happened back then? You told me the surgery failed… and that was it.”
For a split second, I caught it—the flicker of panic in his eyes. But just as quickly, he masked it with cold indifference.
“Explained?” he scoffed. “We already talked about this. Your mother’s condition was critical—there was nothing more anyone could do. Why are you acting like I hid something from you?”
He was hiding something. I knew it. But now wasn’t the time to reveal what I’d discovered. My revenge needed patience.
“Regardless,” he went on sharply, “that doesn’t justify you hurting Celeste when she was only being kind. I want you to apologize to her. Now.”
Before I could respond, Celeste interjected, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “It’s fine, Lucas. She must still resent me for when Julian broke off their engagement and married me instead. Maybe I earned that slap. Don’t blame her. Think of this as me making amends.”
I clenched my fists as the two of them turned their backs on me.
Halfway down the hall, I overheard Celeste murmur, “If she despises me this much, maybe we should stop seeing each other. I wouldn’t want to cause problems for you.”
That was it. My final straw. Lucas was nothing to me now.
I returned to the fire, continuing to burn five years’ worth of lies disguised as love.
A little while later, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Lucas:
I’m sorry, love. I know I hurt you by asking you to apologize, but Celeste is leading the Sterling project. I didn’t want the company to suffer. Once everything’s settled, I’ll make it up to you. Remember I promised you a gift? Please don’t be upset.
I didn’t bother replying. He loved Celeste. I was nothing more than her shadow.
Upstairs, I grabbed the bag I had packed earlier and left the house. The hotel room I checked into was cold and empty, but solitude was exactly what I needed.
I had barely settled in when my phone rang. It was a staff member from the company.
“Ma’am, where are you? Did you forget about the investor meeting today?”
But the voice I heard in the background froze me. Lucas—ordering his staff to gather specialists immediately to treat Celeste.
A bitter laugh escaped me. A scratch—that’s all she had. Yet he was ready to throw millions into her care.
I hung up and told the secretary I wouldn’t be attending.
Not long after, Lucas himself began calling. I answered, but he didn’t realize I was on the line right away—he was too busy instructing his secretary.
“Sir, are you certain you want to revise the contract? If we proceed, the company could lose tens of millions.”
“Do it,” Lucas snapped. “I promised Celeste. What she wants, she gets.”
My grip tightened on the phone.
Once the secretary left, he finally remembered me. “Hey, love. They told me you skipped the investor meeting. Are you okay? That was important—”
“I’m not feeling well,” I lied.
“Oh. Then I’ll cancel the rest of the meetings. Just rest. I’ll be back soon.”
But he never came home that night.
Instead, as I scrolled through social media, I stumbled across a livestream from a popular boutique. At first, I didn’t care—until I saw them in the background.
Lucas and Celeste. Together. He was busy helping her choose a dress.
That was my breaking point. I called my lawyer and instructed him to deliver the divorce papers to Lucas' staff immediately. Then I contacted the agency to confirm the final step of my plan.
Later, in his office, I could almost picture it: his secretary rushing in, pale and shaken, shoving a tablet into his hands.
“Sir… we have a problem. It seems Madam Liora discovered what happened to her mother five years ago—and she’s demanding a divorce.”
Shock would have registered on his face, only to be interrupted by another staff member bursting in.
“Sir! Bad news—someone just called. Madam Liora… she’s dead. She killed herself. She couldn’t live with what you did to her mother.”
