Chapter 3

The day of the crash.

5:00 AM. Three hours before the scheduled impact.

I didn't sit around waiting to get into Logan's passenger seat like a dumb sheep.

Instead, I rolled my 24-inch suitcase out the front door, clutched my passport, visa, and tickets, and hailed an Uber straight to JFK Airport.

On the road, I blocked every single phone number and social media profile belonging to Logan, Eleanor, and Chloe.

I sent the final power-of-attorney documents to my legal team.

I handed over every piece of ammunition: Logan’s infidelities, his illegal asset transfers, his chat logs with the hitman driver, and Eleanor’s recorded audio proving her complicity.

I gave my media contacts the green light to push the story live.

The city lights blurred past my car window.

The shackles that dragged me down to hell for thirty years shattered completely in that instant.

For once in my existence, I was going to live for myself.

Meanwhile, Logan followed his plan, driving out to the designated rural intersection.

The freight truck was already idling nearby, waiting for the signal to ram our car.

He waited and waited. But I was nowhere to be found.

He dialed my number—call rejected. Blocked everywhere.

Panic flared in his chest. His six-month scheme was unraveling at the seams!

He barked at the driver to abort and sped back to the penthouse.

The apartment was hollow and dead.

My designer clothes, my jewelry, my documents—completely gone.

The only thing sitting in the dead center of the glass coffee table was a signed separation agreement.

Pinned on top were high-res photos of him embracing Chloe and their secret son, accompanied by the bank wire receipts to the truck driver.

Logan's veins nearly burst from pure fury.

He never imagined that Evelyn Vance—the pathetic, meek girl who worshiped the ground he walked on—actually dared to walk out on him!

He dialed Eleanor in sheer terror.

Eleanor lost her mind when she heard the news. Grabbing Chloe, who rushed over in tears, the three of them raced like maniacs toward the airport terminal.

Inside the bustling JFK departure hall.

I was about to step into the TSA pre-check line when a pair of sweaty, bruising fingers clamped violently around my wrist.

Logan’s eyes were bloodshot. He barked at me, loud enough to draw the attention of every passing traveler:

"Evelyn! Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"Our wedding is set! Why are you packing a suitcase and running away like a criminal? Whatever you're mad about, we can talk at home!"

Eleanor pushed forward instantly, putting on the performance of a heartbroken, dignified matriarch for the crowd before snapping at me viciously:

"Evelyn! Have you lost your mind?"

"What did our family ever do wrong to you? You want to make a public clown out of us in front of everyone?"

"Get your luggage and come home right now!"

Chloe hid behind the two of them, her eyes brimming with theatrical tears.

She gripped Logan’s bicep meekly, pretending to play the gentle peacemaker while tossing poison into every sentence:

"Evelyn, please don't be mad at Logan."

"Even if you hate me, you can't just throw away your marriage like this."

"If you're angry, take it out on me! Don't ruin Logan's life over a misunderstanding..."

Hearing the exact same manipulative garbage that poisoned my previous life made bile rise in my throat.

I violently yanked my wrist out of Logan’s grip.

Before Chloe could finish her pathetic sentence, I wound up my arm and cracked a vicious slap straight across her face.

It carried the weight of two lifetimes of pure vengeance.