8 Chapter 8
“Rannie, darling. This is where our little one and I will be living. The baby’s father just bought it for us.”
I ignored the text. Instead, I began the final stage of my plan. I called my financial advisor and gave the order to liquidate the entire high–risk investment fund that Wright had put in my name years ago. The profits were immense, and I had them transferred to a new, completely anonymous account.
The following day, Lucia’s attacks continued. She sent me dozens of candid photos of Wright sleeping, each one dated over the last three years.
“Rannie, I’m just wondering if he’s changed much since we got together. Can you help me spot the differences?”
It was a cruel, childish game. I opened my personal cloud drive, the one that held a decade of our memories. Every photo, every video, every digital piece of our life together. With a steady hand, I highlighted everything and hit ‘permanently erase!
On the third day, she sent a 3D ultrasound image.
“Rannie, you were an art major at Yale, right? You’re good with faces. Can you tell me if the baby looks more like Wright, or like me?”
She also sent a collage of photos of the two of them, smiling in glamorous locations all over the
world.
I walked into the grand library of our penthouse. I stood before the wall where I had once painted a huge, intricate mural of our love story. I picked up a roller and a can of white paint. With slow, methodical strokes, I covered every inch of our history, until all that remained was a blank, sterile wall.
On the fourth day, Wright told me he had to go on a business trip.
I asked him where he was going and who was going with him. He shot me an irritated look.
“Why are you suddenly so interested in my schedule?”
I had always given him his space, never questioning the details of his work. But today, I needed to hear the lie one last time.
After a short pause, Wright pulled me into a hug. “We’re going to the Caribbean. It’s a closed–door team–building retreat. Just me and the executive team. No one else.”
At that exact moment, a message from Lucia appeared on my screen. It was a screenshot of their flight itinerary to a private island resort.
*Rannie, I told him I was feeling a bit down yesterday, so he’s taking me to a private resort to lift
た
02
<
8 Chapter 8
my spirits. The firm is in the middle of three major deals, but he’s dropping everything just for me. I guess that means he really loves me.”
I didn’t say a word. I just helped him pack his bags.
After he left, I had three days to finish erasing myself from our home.
Goodbye, Wright.
On the day of my escape, I arrived at the airport with hours to spare. As I waited at the gate, my phone rang. It was Wright, his voice tight with frantic energy.
“Darling, what did you do? Why did you liquidate the entire fund? My broker is freaking out!“,
I answered calmly. “I’m tired of managing it. I used to like the thrill of it, but people’s interests change.”
He let out a huge sigh of relief, the tension in his voice melting away.
“You gave me a heart attack. For a minute there, I thought you were leaving me, my love,” he said, his tone softening. “I just landed and saw the bank alert. I was really worried.”
“Since you’re not into high–risk stuff anymore, I’ll cancel the surprise I had planned for you on this trip,” he went on. “I’ll be home in an hour or so. When I get back, you can tell me what kind of investments you want to explore now.”
He was still playing the part of the doting husband, but I knew it was all an act.
I listened to his lies, then gently reminded him, “You can open the gift I left for you today.”
I hung up and walked over to the windows of the first–class lounge. From my vantage point, I had a perfect view of the private tarmac below. I saw him on the ground floor, his arm wrapped possessively around Lucia’s waist as they walked toward a waiting jet. Even with their sunglasses and casual clothes, I knew it was him instantly.
He was, after all, the man I had loved for a decade.
As the final boarding call was announced, an attendant smiled and directed me toward my gate.
02.20
