Chapter 4

The next morning, Julian got up unusually early.

When I walked downstairs, he was sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his phone with a dark expression.

Seeing me enter, he threw his phone onto the coffee table with a loud thud.

"Give me the keys to the Porsche." he demanded.

The red Porsche Panamera was a gift he gave me for my thirtieth birthday.

Although I rarely drove it over the past few years, it sat in the garage, fully registered under my name.

"Why do you need my keys?" I walked to the kitchen island and poured myself a glass of warm water.

"Chloe's car is in the shop. She has to meet a major client today on behalf of the firm. She can’t just take an Uber—it looks bad for the company."

Julian spoke with absolute entitlement, as if he were asking for something trivial.

I held my glass and looked at him.

"The company has plenty of fleet vehicles. Why does she have to drive my car?"

"Those corporate SUVs are too rigid. Chloe is young; your red Panamera is perfect for her." He urged impatiently, "Hurry up, she’s waiting for me downstairs."

So, Chloe was already here.

She hadn't even bothered to step inside, confident that Julian could easily fetch the keys for her.

I set my glass down and shook my head.

"No."

Julian stared at me, dumbfounded, as if he hadn't heard me correctly.

"What did you say?"

"I said, no," I repeated, looking him dead in the eye.

Julian’s face turned bright red with rage.

"Audrey, are you out of your mind? It’s just a car! It’s literally collecting dust in the garage. What’s the big deal if Chloe borrows it for a day?"

"It’s my car. I get to decide who drives it," I replied coolly.

"Your car? Every single thing on your body was bought with my money!" He stood up abruptly, pointing a finger at my face.

"You eat my food, live under my roof, and spend my cash. And now you won't even let me borrow a car? When did you become so incredibly selfish?!"

Every word he spat was like a dull knife, carving away at my chest.

Seven years.

He seemed to have completely forgotten that during the early days of his startup, when the company was on the brink of bankruptcy, it was my parents' life insurance payout that kept his head above water.

He also forgot that the Porsche was bought with the investment returns I had made back then.

In his eyes, I had long since devolved into a parasite entirely dependent on him.

"Julian, do you really think that if you yell loud enough, I'll just obey you?" I looked at him coldly.

My gaze made him flinch slightly, dampening his arrogance, but he remained stubborn.

"I don't have time for this. Where are the keys? I'll get them myself."

He started rummaging through the living room drawers.

"The keys are in my purse. Touch it, and see what happens." I stood still, my voice quiet but dangerous.

Julian stopped. He turned and glared at me.

"Audrey, you just love making everyone miserable, don't you? Chloe is waiting outside. How am I supposed to explain this to her?!"

"That’s your problem, not mine."

He snapped.

He lunged toward the entryway, grabbed my designer handbag hanging from the coat rack, violently ripped the zipper open, and dumped the contents all over the floor.

Lipstick, compact powder, tissues, and the Porsche key fob clattered across the hardwood floor.

He bent down, snatched the keys, and looked up at me like a victorious conqueror.

"I’m taking them. What are you going to do about it?"

Looking at my personal belongings scattered across the floor, a profound sense of sadness washed over me.

"Julian, you’re going to regret this," I said softly.

He let out a harsh sneer.

"Regret? The only thing I regret in this life is marrying a bitter, ungrateful woman like you!"

With that, he walked out the door, key fob in hand.

I stood in the messy hallway for a long time, frozen.

Only when my legs began to go numb did I slowly crouch down to pick up my things, one by one.

As I reached for my compact powder, my fingers brushed against a neatly folded business card.

It was Mr. Sterling’s card.

I squeezed it tightly in my hand, the sharp corners biting into my palm.

I didn't cry.

I just stood up, went upstairs to change into a clean, sharp outfit, and hailed a cab to the Medical Center downtown.