Chapter 4

Seraphina's POV

For the next two weeks, I didn't see Julian.

But every time I opened my phone, my feed was flooded with news of him and Chloe.

He had taken her skiing in Switzerland. He had purchased an $8 million pink diamond for her at a Christie's auction. He was photographed walking hand-in-hand with her in Paris.

In our four years of marriage, Julian had never given me a single gift.

Not a flower, not a ring, nothing.

I turned off my phone, walked into my storage closet, and pulled an old wooden box from the bottom shelf.

Inside were all the gifts Julian had given me seven years ago.

A worn-out plush bear he had spent half an hour trying to win from a claw machine on our first official date.

He had said, "This bear looks like me. When I'm not around, let him keep you company."

A terribly knitted gray scarf. He had stayed up for a week to make it, and the stitches were completely uneven.

He had blushed when he gave it to me. "Don't laugh. It's the first time I've ever made anything by hand."

And an album filled with our high school photos.

He had said, "I printed all our pictures. When we're old and gray, we can look back and remember how deeply we loved each other."

In the photos, his arm was wrapped securely around my shoulders, laughing wildly, while I leaned into his chest with a smile that reached my eyes.

Back then, we truly believed we would have a lifetime together.

I carried the box out to the small backyard.

I knelt on the grass, lit a small fire in the metal pit, and began throwing the items in, one by one.

With each piece that burned, it felt like a chunk of my heart was being carved out.

But I told myself I had to do it.

I couldn't take any ghosts of the past with me to Wyoming.

I watched the treasures of my youth turn to gray ash. My eyes were dry. I couldn't even cry anymore.

The last item was a glass snow globe.

When shaken, fake snow would fall over a tiny hand-in-hand couple.

It was my eighteenth birthday gift from him.

He had whispered, "Look, it's us in the snow. I promise to take you to see real snow every winter."

My fingers trembled as I held the cold glass.

Suddenly, a deep, familiar voice cut through the quiet backyard.

"What do you think you're doing?"

My spine went rigid. I turned around slowly.

Julian was standing a few feet away, dressed in a sharp charcoal suit, his brow furrowed.

Chloe was clinging to his arm, looking at me with a mix of curiosity and smug satisfaction.

I didn't expect him to show up here. I looked away calmly.

"Just burning some useless trash."

Julian’s eyes scanned the fire pit, and his gaze suddenly froze.

He saw the snow globe in my hand.

I knew he recognized it.

When he first woke up from his coma with amnesia, I had brought this exact snow globe to his hospital bed, crying, begging him to remember.

He had looked annoyed back then and knocked it out of my hand.

Now, he frowned but said nothing.

I tossed the snow globe into the center of the flames.

The glass shattered with a loud crack. The flames flared up, devouring the last piece of my past.

I stood up, brushing the dirt off my knees, and asked quietly, "Why are you here?"

Julian's voice was as cold as ever. "This villa is registered under my name. Do I need your permission to come home?"

I lowered my eyes. "That's not what I meant."

I wanted to say that in our four years of marriage, he could count the number of times he slept here on one hand. His sudden appearance had to be for a reason.

But I swallowed the words.

Explaining was pointless.

Julian wrapped his hand around Chloe’s waist and said casually, "I wanted to buy Chloe a house, but she looked at dozens of properties and only liked this one."

I froze. "What?"

"I mean," Julian said, looking at me with dead eyes, "I'm giving this villa to Chloe."

I stared at him, speechless.

This villa was purchased by the Sterling family four years ago as our marital home.

I had spent months designing the interior, choosing the furniture, and planting the garden.

I had built a home here.

And now, he wanted to hand it over to another woman?

"Aren't you divorcing me anyway?" Julian sneered. "This house belongs to me. Don't worry, I won't let you starve on the streets."

He shook his head mockingly. "I have plenty of other properties. Pick any penthouse you want. Consider it your alimony."