Audrey Wolfe POV:
"My parents," I said, the words tasting like ash in my mouth, "they found out I was serious about the divorce."
The car was still and silent, the air thick with unspoken memories. Calvin flinched again, a deep tremor running through his body. He knew. He knew exactly what was coming.
"My mother called me, screaming, threatening," I continued, my voice flat, devoid of emotion. "She said if I divorced Calvin, she'd kill herself. She said his money was their only security. My father echoed her, of course. Called me selfish, ungrateful. Said I was destroying their lives."
Kaliyah gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "They actually threatened that? After everything he did to you?"
I nodded, staring straight ahead. "They didn't care about what he did. Only what he had." My parents had arrived at the apartment the next day, unannounced, their faces contorted with fury and desperation. They cornered me in the living room, Calvin standing by the fireplace, a silent, almost amused spectator.
"You will not divorce him, Audrey!" my mother had shrieked, clutching her chest dramatically. "Do you hear me? If you do, I will jump off the Brooklyn Bridge! I swear it!"
My father, usually quiet, had stepped forward, his eyes cold and hard. "You disgust me, Audrey. You think you're better than us? You think you can just throw away this life? You owe us! We raised you! We sacrificed everything!"
I had been trapped. Between Calvin's indifference, my parents' emotional terrorism, and the gaping wound in my soul from losing my baby, I felt like I was drowning. There was no one to save me, no one to fight for me.
Except me.
"I couldn't breathe," I whispered, the memory still chilling me to the bone. "I felt like I was suffocating. They were all just... sucking the life out of me, fighting over the scraps of my existence. I looked at Calvin, then at my parents. And I knew there was only one way out. One way to make them stop. To make him sign those papers."
Calvin was trembling, his eyes glued to my face, his breathing shallow. He knew this part. He had witnessed it.
"I walked into the kitchen," I continued, my voice barely audible. "I grabbed the sharpest knife I could find. A chef's knife. And I held it to my throat."
Kaliyah let out a strangled cry. "Audrey! My God, you never told me!"
Calvin closed his eyes, a single tear escaping and tracing a path down his pale cheek.
"They stopped screaming then," I said, a bitter laugh escaping me. "They just stared. Calvin stared. I told him. I said, 'Sign the papers, Calvin. Sign them now. Or I swear to God, I will do it. I will end this right here. You won't get any of your precious money from me then. You won't get anything.'"
He had frozen, paralyzed. The horror in his eyes wasn't for me, I realized later. It was for the scandal. For the mess. For the potential loss of his perfect narrative.
"I needed him to believe me," I said, my voice breaking slightly. "I needed them all to believe me. So I pressed harder."
The physical sensation, even after all these years, was vivid. The cold steel against my skin. The sharp, stinging pain as the blade cut through the flesh. The warm trickle of blood running down my neck.
Calvin had snapped then. He'd rushed forward, grabbing my arm, forcing the knife away. But it was done. The cut was there. A thin, angry line.
He signed the papers that day. In a daze, he signed them. My parents, shocked into silence, retreated, their threats momentarily forgotten. I had sacrificed a piece of myself, literally, to gain my freedom. And the scar, still faintly visible under my hair, was my hard-won trophy.
I opened my eyes, the memory fading, leaving behind only a dull ache. Kaliyah was sobbing, her shoulders shaking.
"Oh, Audrey," she choked out, wiping her eyes. "My poor, sweet Audrey. Why? Why didn't you call me? Why did you go through that alone?"
"Because I didn't want anyone else caught in their crossfire," I said, my voice regaining its composure. "I just wanted out. And I got out."
Calvin, still silent, was openly weeping now, his face buried in his hands. His shoulders shook with what looked like genuine anguish. It was too late for that, though. Far, far too late.
"You bastard!" Kaliyah shrieked, her grief morphing into a raw fury directed at Calvin. "You stood there and watched her! You let her almost kill herself just to get away from you! You are a monster!"
"Kaliyah, stop," I said, reaching out to touch her arm gently. "It's done. It's over."
She pulled away from me, shaking her head. "No, it's not over! Not until he pays for what he did! I should have been here, Audrey. I should have protected you. I should have beaten some sense into those pathetic parents of yours!"
"It's okay," I said, my voice soft. "I'm okay now. I found my own way out."
Kaliyah sniffled, looking at me with tear-filled eyes. "But you didn't have to go through that by yourself. You didn't have to get hurt."
"It made me stronger," I lied, a small, defiant flicker in my chest. "It taught me a lot."
I pushed open the car door. "I need to go. I can call a cab from here."
"No!" Calvin' s voice was hoarse, desperate. He reached for me again, his hand grabbing my wrist. "Audrey, please. Don't go. Let me make it up to you. I can still make it up to you. I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry." His grip was surprisingly gentle this time, almost pleading.
I looked at his tear-streaked face, his broken expression. The arrogant tech mogul, reduced to a sniveling mess. It was... pathetic. And utterly unconvincing.
"Sorry?" I scoffed, a dry, bitter laugh escaping me. "Sorry for what, Calvin? For protecting your mistress over your pregnant wife? For letting my parents use me as a bargaining chip? For watching me bleed just to get free of you?" I yanked my wrist free. "Your apologies are as worthless as your promises were."
I stepped out of the car, slamming the door shut with a finality that echoed in the quiet night. Kaliyah scrambled out after me.
"Audrey, wait!" Calvin cried, his voice desperate, but I didn't look back. I hailed a passing taxi, pulling Kaliyah into the backseat with me.
As I sped away, I caught a glimpse of him in the rearview mirror, standing alone on the sidewalk, a solitary, broken figure under the glow of a streetlight. A familiar ache resonated in my chest, not of longing, but of the lingering echoes of what once was, and what could never be again. He was begging for forgiveness, for a chance to rewrite our story. But my chapter with Calvin Bishop was closed. Permanently. The scar on my neck was proof of that.
