Chapter 4
For a moment, I thought Tom and Tyler were about to throw punches. But they didn’t.
Because Fonda showed up.
That’s when I realized Tom hadn’t come here alone–he’d brought her.
The irony burned. Seven years of marriage, and not once had he brought me to Soirée. I knew this place better than most, but he’d always made excuses, even flat–out refused to let me come back.
But now? He had no problem flaunting his mistress like she owned the place.
“Mr. Luke, everyone’s waiting for you-” Fonda’s voice faltered as she noticed the scene. Then she plastered on one of her signature, confident smiles.
11
“We’re just here to celebrate my pregnancy. Did you really need to drink so much?” Fonda teased, stepping forward to steady Tom. Her eyes flicked to me, sharp with hostility. Come on, look at you. Let’s go
go home.”
Tom’s clenched hand slowly relaxed, but his gaze stayed locked on me.
Fonda’s smile wavered, just slightly, before he finally seemed to snap out of it.
Wrapping an arm around her waist, he muttered, “Let’s go. We’re going home.‘
As they turned to leave, Tom shot one last look at Tyler and me, his eyes dark with something unspoken. “Goodbye,” he said.
Something about the whole scene felt… off.
“What’s wrong? Still hung up on your ex–husband?” Tyler’s voice was bitter, pulling me back to the moment.
I stepped out from behind him, forcing a polite smile. “Thanks for stepping in, Mr. Saun.”
Tyler frowned, moving closer. I instinctively took a step back. He reached out, shutting the door behind us, blocking out the stares from the room.
Now it was just us, standing in the quiet hallway. His gaze made my stomach twist.
I dropped my eyes, unsure what he was thinking, choosing silence over saying something stupid.
After a moment, he broke the tension. “It’s been a long time.”
The words felt stiff, awkward. Still, I forced a polite nod. “It has.”
And just like that, the silence crept back in.
Chapter 4
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Tyler sighed. “Done with whatever brought you to Soirée? I’ll give you a ride.”
“No need,” I said with a polite smile. “I’m staying here tonight.”
He froze for a second, clearly catching my drift
“I’ve got a suite at the hotel across the street,” he said. “You can crash there if you want.”
I didn’t want to owe him anything, so I said, “That’s really not nec-
He cut me off. “The Spencers will take you back eventually. We’re bound to bump into each other again, so just take the favor.”
I hesitated but finally nodded.
Tyler looked almost relieved, like I’d made his night easier. He grabbed his keys and opened the door.
From the doorway, I spotted the champagne tower inside. Definitely his style, though whatever it was celebrating had zero to do with me.
In the garage, he opened the passenger door for me, all casual and smooth, like it was
second nature.
“Thanks,” I said, sliding in, “but maybe I should sit in the back. Don’t want to upset your girlfriend.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he said, cool as ever.
That threw me for a loop.
After getting married, I’d been so caught up in my own mess, I’d lost track of everything- and everyone else.
Honestly, I’d just assumed Tyler was married by now. With his family’s connections, he had endless options for an arranged match. The only real drama he’d ever been tied to was… well, me.
He must’ve caught my unease because he said, ‘I went abroad after that. Studied, built up the business overseas. Just got back recently.”
So, while he’d been out there learning and building something real, I’d been busy marrying the wrong guy too young. It stung. I used to love finance, used to have dreams, too.
At the hotel, he handed me the key, said goodbye, and gave me space.
I flopped onto the bed, staring at the neon lights flickering through the windows
And then it hit me: Tyler wasn’t just being polite. He was deliberate, thoughtful, good.
And I hated it.
Chapter 4
Because every little kindness of his was like a spotlight on everything I wasn’t.
Just like Tom, Tyler reminded me of my failures, my mistakes, my broken pieces.
This is who I am now: bitter, worn out, and done hoping for anything better. Love? Marriage? Forget it.
I shut my eyes, sinking into the soft bed. The blanket was warm, but my knees still throbbed. They always would.
A constant reminder of all the ways I’d been foolish.
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I woke up in the middle of the night to my phone buzzing. It was Tom.
On the other end, he was groaning. “Where are you? My head hurts.”
I squinted at the clock. 3:30 a.m.
Drunk. Again. And now whining about his hangover.
He didn’t used to be like this.
Back when his company was just starting, he’d stumble home wasted, reeking of booze, and end up crying in my arms.
No matter how late it was, I’d always be waiting.
Honey lemon tea, reheated over and over, just so it’d still be warm when he finally walked through the door.
He could never stay still–restless, always waking up in the middle of the night.
And I’d be right there, handing him a glass of warm water, rubbing his temples until he passed out in my arms.
d
“Stop being pathetic,” I muttered, half to myself. Then, without hesitation, I hung up, blocked his number, and turned off my phone in one smooth move.
Seven years of love, anger, and everything in between had shrunk down to one thing: a weight I didn’t want to carry anymore.
I closed my eyes, sinking into the bed. For the first time in months, I actually slept.
When I woke up, it was already 1:00 p.m.
The rain had stopped, but the sky was still heavy and gray. I turned my phone back on Over a dozen missed calls lit up the screen–most blocked, some unanswered. Two had
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Chapter 4
even slipped through.
I stared at the familiar number, my finger hovering over it. After what felt like forever, I pressed call.
It barely rang once before he picked up. Silence. Then a bitter voice.
“So, you remember how to use a phone. Thought you’d forgotten my number.”
I’d told myself I was ready for this, that I could handle it. But the second I heard his voice, the tears came, unstoppable.
“Dad,” I said. Seven years later, I was finally calling him that again.
Back then, I’d cut ties with my family for Tom. Seven years–no calls, no texts, not a single word exchanged.
When Tom’s business took off, people said I’d hitched myself to a rising star. But my relationship with my family? Still cold, still broken.
As their only daughter, I’d been cast out of the Spencer family. My father had made it clear: he’d rather donate the entire family fortune than leave me a single penny.
And yet, here he was. The one calling. The one swallowing his pride first.
“I’ll say it again,” he said, voice steady. “Cut ties with him, and you’re welcome back. If you’ve figured it out, come home. Your mom misses you.‘
Seven years as their disgrace, their failure, and they still said it: ‘Come home.‘
Chapter 5
