"Have you ever really loved me?"
Franklin narrowed his eyes at me, his expression turning unreadable. "What do you mean?"
"Quincy, you're the one who refuses to admit your mistakes. You've hurt Anya over and over again and now you dare to accuse me?"
Accuse him?
I let out a faint, bitter smile. What right did I have to accuse him?
All along, I had been the one taking from him. He had given me everything—his time, his effort, his resources. Because of that, I endured all the pain he inflicted on me. I swallowed every insult, every accusation, every moment of disregard because I thought I owed him. But now, I no longer had a reason to endure.
I thought, maybe, I should let go. So, I said, "Franklin, let's get a divorce."
Silence stretched between us. My heart had already gone numb.
Once we were divorced, whether he wanted to be with Anya, spoil her, or indulge her, it would no longer concern me. I would no longer be in anyone's way.
Franklin stood frozen in place, his brows furrowing as if he hadn't expected those words to leave my mouth. I didn't wait for his response. Without another glance, I turned and walked toward the taxi that had been waiting by the roadside.
Back at the hospital, I curled up on the stiff hospital bed in my thick down jacket, but no matter how tightly I wrapped it around myself, I still felt cold. The numbness had seeped into my bones. The young nurse who had been tending to me now refused to care for me anymore, her expression disapproving as she stood by the door.
"Mrs. Gibson, I can't keep watching you like this," she said, crossing her arms. "You're too reckless. Always running out, refusing proper rest... If something happens to you, I don't want to be the one held responsible."
I said nothing. I simply turned my head toward the window, watching as raindrops began to speckle the glass.
Later that night, Franklin sent me a message.
[I'll forgive your threat this time, for your father's sake. But don't push your luck. Behave.]
I stared at the screen for a long moment before turning off my phone without replying.
For the next two days, I did nothing but eat and sleep, following the most routine existence. It wasn't until I was discharged that I turned my phone back on.
Dozens of missed calls flooded in, along with hundreds of unread messages on social media. My fingers hovered over the screen before I clicked in—every single one was from Franklin.
I didn't bother reading them. Without hesitation, I exited the app.
Back at the estate, I stepped through the front door just as Franklin was coming downstairs with Anya. The moment he saw me, his expression darkened and he immediately moved to shield Anya behind him as if I were some kind of threat.
"You still have the nerve to come back?" Franklin's voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. "Quincy, are you so determined to ruin Anya?"
A sharp pain stabbed through my chest, but I forced myself to remain composed. "Then let's go get the divorce certificate today."
Franklin's pupils constricted and for a second, his grip on Anya tightened. Before he could speak, Anya tugged at his sleeve with a timid expression, peeking out from behind him like a delicate, frightened doll.
"Quincy, please don't use divorce to threaten my brother," she whispered. "Last time, too... It was all my fault. I will leave. I will go abroad. Please don't fight with my brother anymore, okay?"
She let out a soft sigh, her voice trembling just enough to make it seem genuine. "I don't mind some hardship, but now that the Gibson Group's stock is crashing...."
At her words, Franklin immediately pulled her into his arms protectively.
"You didn't do anything wrong. Why should you leave?" he said firmly, brushing a hand over her hair as if she were a fragile little thing. "She's just taking out her anger on you because her father died. She can't stand to see you happy."
His words were a dagger to the chest. He truly believed I was that malicious?
Franklin's gaze hardened as he turned back to me. "Quincy, I want you to apologize to Anya in front of the media. Admit that those photos were photoshopped by you, that the story was fabricated and that everything was driven by your jealousy of her."
Hearing his ridiculous demand, my brows knitted together. "What photos? What story? What are you talking about?"
Seeing my reaction, Anya bit her lip, eyes welling with tears.
"Forget it, Franklin," she murmured, voice trembling. "Let's not force Quincy anymore. Just let me go, okay?"
Franklin's fury escalated. His voice rose sharply as he shouted my name, "Quincy, how long are you going to keep up this act? Do you really think I won't divorce you?"
"Then let's get divorced." My voice was steady, unaffected. I didn't know what was going on, but divorce was my goal anyway.
Franklin let out a cold, furious laugh, his grip tightening into fists. "Alright. Fine. We'll go right now."
Without another word, he released Anya, stormed forward and seized my wrist in a painful grip before dragging me outside.
