That night, the hospital room felt unbearably still. The silence pressed against my ears as I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my phone. Bianca had just sent me a photo. My fingers trembled as I opened it.
It was Victor.
He was bent over her hospital bed, pen in hand, his expression soft and focused—so careful, so intimate—like he was writing something precious. The caption beneath the photo stabbed straight into my chest:
Your husband is unbelievably gentle. He’s written me hundreds of love letters and stayed awake the entire night for me. The nurses said he only left when they told him you had finally regained consciousness.
The pain in my chest grew so intense it felt hard to breathe. Before I could even lock the screen, another message appeared.
Isabelle, you will never win against me. Save yourself the humiliation and give up now.
I bit down on my lip until I tasted blood. I wanted to respond—wanted to scream, to deny it—but my hands wouldn’t move. My fingers hovered uselessly over the screen.
Then the door to my hospital room opened.
A tall man dressed in a crisp black suit stepped inside. He didn’t spare me a glance. His eyes went straight to Victor, who stood by the window with the ease of someone who believed the world already belonged to him.
“Mr. Durant,” the man said politely, “everything is prepared. The press conference is scheduled. The transfer of Durant Crown Holdings to Miss Bianca will be finalized tonight.”
Cold spread through my body, slow and merciless. I turned my head toward Victor, clinging to a fragile hope that I had misunderstood.
But he smiled—relaxed, pleased—like everything was unfolding exactly as he intended.
“Excellent,” he replied smoothly. “If my wife asks about it, inform her the company collapsed financially. She doesn’t need further explanation.”
Then he turned to me.
His expression softened instantly, his voice shifting into that gentle tone I used to trust. He approached and brushed his fingers lightly over my hand. “Baby, I just received bad news. The company’s in trouble, and I need to deal with it immediately. Stay here and rest, okay? Don’t stress yourself. I’ll handle everything.”
If I were still deaf, I would have believed him without question.
He looked convincing—like a devoted husband carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. But I had heard every word. There was no room left for lies.
I simply nodded, too exhausted to argue, and watched as he walked out without turning back. The door closed with a soft click.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
I stared at the empty space he left behind, my hands slowly curling into fists. That was when it truly sank in. There was nothing left to save. No affection. No trust. Not even a shadow of love.
I reached into my bag and pulled out the divorce papers I had hidden there for weeks. The pages were slightly creased, worn from being folded and unfolded so many times. I placed them neatly on the bedside table.
Then I picked up my phone.
I erased everything.
Victor.
Bianca.
My parents.
Each name vanished from my contacts one by one, like cutting threads that had been tightening around my throat for years.
For the first time in a long while, I felt a strange sense of lightness.
---
The press conference looked more like a celebration than a corporate announcement. Reporters crowded the hall, cameras flashing nonstop. Victor stood confidently on stage—with Bianca right beside him—his smile wide, proud, flawless.
I stayed near the back of the room, half-hidden among the crowd, my face concealed behind a mask. My eyes never left them, even when it hurt, even when Fiona clung to Dillon like she belonged at his side. I told myself I was done caring—but my heart hadn’t caught up yet.
“This marks the beginning of a greater future for our family,” Victor announced into the microphone.
Thunderous applause followed. The clapping seemed endless, as if the entire world was celebrating his triumph. My parents sat in the front row, smiling brightly, applauding as though Bianca’s success was their own victory.
When it ended, Victor stepped down from the stage and immediately offered to drive Bianca home himself. She slipped her hand around his arm, glowing—radiant, like a bride being escorted away after her wedding.
I thought the sight would destroy me.
Instead, I felt numb.
They were nearly at the exit when someone suddenly stepped into their path.
Damien.
His gaze shifted between Victor and Bianca before settling back on Victor. “Long time no see,” he said lightly. “Taking your sister-in-law out again? Strange—you didn’t bring your wife. I was hoping to ask her something… about her hearing. I wanted to know if she’s still struggling.”
The room went painfully quiet.
Victor stiffened. The smile drained from his face, replaced by something tense and dark.
“What do you mean?” he asked slowly, his voice low. His eyes flicked around anxiously. “Isabelle… she can hear now?”
Damien frowned. “Yes. Didn’t she tell you? Her hearing came back yesterday. She was excited to share the news.”
That was it.
That was the moment everything ended.
I turned away before anyone could see the tears spilling over. My grip tightened on my bag, my fingers brushing against the edge of my passport inside. It felt like the only thing I still owned—my proof of escape.
I walked out without looking back.
My steps were unsteady, but they carried me all the way to the airport. Tears streamed down my face no matter how hard I tried to stop them.
At the counter, when it was time to book my flight, my voice cracked. “One ticket. First available flight. Paris.”
I handed over my passport, clutching my bag so tightly it hurt.
And deep in my heart, I whispered the promise burning inside me.
You will regret everything, Victor.
