Chapter 4

I went home.

I dragged out two enormous suitcases and started clearing out my things, one by one.

Clothes, cosmetics, and all the little decorative pieces I'd hand-picked myself.

Whatever I could take, I packed.

Whatever I couldn't, I smashed on the spot and threw in the trash.

Half an hour later, the once-cozy wedding home was stripped down to a bare shell.

I set out the printed photo of them embracing in the break room, along with the engagement ring I'd taken off, and a handwritten 《Statement Calling Off the Engagement》, laying them squarely on the most visible spot of the coffee table in the living room.

I had just finished when the lock turned.

Curt pushed the door open, exhaustion all over his face, most likely having just dropped Amy back home and come back to get his luggage.

The moment he stepped into the entryway and saw the suitcases all over the floor and the emptied-out living room, he froze, then his brows knit tight and his face darkened.

“Nadia, are you pulling the running-away act again?”

He walked over, looking down at me, his voice full of impatience:

“It's just one honeymoon. I'll make it up to you later when I have time, isn't that enough? When are you going to grow up and stop throwing tantrums all day?”

I didn't say anything. I just calmly pointed at the coffee table.

Curt followed my finger, and the instant he made out the photo, his expression turned remarkable.

Panic, then guilt, and finally it hardened into humiliated fury.

“You followed me? You actually used some cheap trick to take secret photos of me?”

He suddenly clenched his fists and roared at me:

“Amy and I are completely innocent! She was about to jump off a building. I refunded the ticket to take her out to clear her head, what's so strange about that? Do you have to blow it up into some huge thing?”

“Innocent?”

I looked at him and let out a self-mocking laugh.

“Holding her, telling her she matters most, refunding my ticket behind my back to take her on my honeymoon. Curt, your innocence really makes me sick.”

“Engagement's off. We're done. This place was bought with my down payment. I'll have an agent sell it. Tomorrow, I'll send a mass notice canceling the wedding to both sets of parents and to our bosses.”

I raised the handle of my suitcase and brushed past him.

Now Curt really panicked. He reached out to grab my arm, and I turned to the side and dodged him.

His pride wouldn't let him bow his head, so all he could do was grind his teeth and shout at my back:

“Nadia, if you walk out that door today, don't you ever come back begging me!”

“Don't think I don't know you quit your job just to marry me! Leave me, and let's see how you survive in New York!”

I didn't even turn my head.

The only answer he got was the heavy slam of the door.

Curt stood in the empty entryway, shaking with rage.

He was sure I was only saying it in anger, certain I didn't have much money on me, that I wouldn't make it two miles before crawling back to apologize.

He strode to the balcony and looked down, wanting to watch me hail a cab in miserable defeat.

But in the night below, there was no taxi.

Parked there was a black Maybach with a sequential New York plate.

The door opened.

Robert Weiss, head of the Weiss Group, the man business circles whispered about for his ruthless methods, was stepping slowly out of the car.

He took the luggage from my hand as naturally as anything, then draped a warm, custom-tailored coat gently over my shoulders.

Before getting in, Robert seemed to sense something and lifted his head slightly.

Those deep, cold eyes, carrying an absolute weight of pressure, swept lightly over Curt on the fifth-floor balcony.

One look was enough to drop Curt into an ice pit.

The Maybach pulled away, its taillights trailing streaks of crimson, sliding soundlessly into the glittering night.

On the balcony.

Curt clawed at the railing, knuckles white, his chest heaving.

He finally understood.

This time, Nadia really didn't want him anymore.