Chapter 1

Five years after our divorce, I ran into my ex-husband at a 24-hour convenience store at three in the morning.

He was there to buy sanitary pads and painkillers for his wife. I was restocking the shelves.

He was in such a rush that he told me he didn't even need a black bag to cover them.

But when our eyes met, he froze.

"Chloe? How... how have you been?"

I instinctively pulled my sleeve down to hide the scars on my wrist. Without a word, I scanned the items and bagged them.

He didn’t leave. His voice was hoarse as he asked, "Are you... do you still hate me?"

I shook my head.

Maybe I hated him back when he used his power as the country’s leading psychiatrist to lock me in a private asylum.

But now? I didn't care about him at all.

"Your wife is waiting for you at home. You should go," I said flatly. I turned back to organizing the shelves.

But Julian didn't move.

Watching my practiced movements, his voice trembled. "Chloe, if you need help, please call me."

"Take this card. The PIN is your birthday. Your health is fragile; you shouldn't be doing such exhausting work."

How ironic.

When we divorced, Julian forced me to sign a waiver leaving me with absolutely nothing.

Now, he was trying to buy his peace of mind with a credit card.

Seeing that I ignored him, Julian opened his mouth to say more, but a customized ringtone cut him off.

Tiffany’s weak, whiny voice came through the speaker. "Babe, why aren't you back yet? I miss you so much."

"My stomach hurts..."

Julian gripped his phone tightly. "I'm on my way."

The call ended. He picked up his bags from the counter.

"Can I at least have your Snapchat?"

I remained silent.

His phone started ringing again. Julian had no choice but to head for the exit.

Before leaving, he slipped a business card onto the counter.

His voice sounded choked. "Call me. Please?"

The moment the door closed, I threw his card straight into the trash can.

Four years ago, when my dad was on his deathbed, I had called Julian. I begged him to help transfer my dad to a better hospital.

But Julian had hung up on me without hesitation and blocked my number.

Now, my dad had been dead for four years.

I had absolutely no reason to ever contact Julian again.

After finishing my shift, I did the handover with my coworker, Mia.

She sighed. "That guy in the custom designer suit... was that Dr. Vance? The one who's always on the news?"

"He didn't even care about the bag, he just rushed home. He must really love his wife."

I nodded. "Yeah."

He did love his wife.

At least during our five years of marriage, he had never let me shed a single tear.

Seeing my cold reaction, Mia quickly changed the subject. "Today is your last day, right? The boss told me you’re heading abroad to study."

"I wish you all the best, Chloe."

"Thank you," I said with a smile. When I walked out of the store, the sun was just beginning to rise.

I walked back to my run-down, rented apartment and carefully wiped the dust off my dad’s portrait.

"Dad, I ran into Julian today."

"But don't worry. I won't let someone like him affect me ever again."

I poured a glass of his favorite whiskey and set it in front of his photo.

My hand shook slightly, and the picture frame next to it fell to the floor.

The faded photograph showed an eighteen-year-old Julian and me.

He wasn't looking at the camera. He was staring at me, his eyes full of pure adoration.

And on my other side was Tiffany, smiling shyly.

She was the scholarship student my dad had sponsored.

My former best friend.

And now, Julian’s wife.