Chapter 2 She contacted her lawyer. He said the paperwork would take approximately a month to process. "Got it," she replied quietly. Just as she hung up, the front door opened. Julian returned, Lena beside him. Seeing Sloane in the living room, his brow furrowed. "You're back. Good. You have fifteen minutes to move your belongings out of the master bedroom. Lena is still recovering from the recent shock; she requires the best environment for convalescence. That room has optimal light and airflow. It's hers now." Lena stood behind him, wearing a delicate, expensive dress, her expression gentle but her eyes holding a faint, unconcealable triumph. "Julian, this really isn't necessary..." Without even glancing toward Sloane, he answered Lena with unusual patience. "Pay her no mind. She's merely a caretaker Grandpa hired to look after me. If not for his influence, she wouldn't even be worthy of residing here." His words cut, but Sloane's heart was beyond pain. She didn't argue, didn't look at them, simply turned and began quietly packing her things. Lena followed her upstairs, pretending to help. "Miss Quinn, let me give you a hand." Sloane was about to refuse when she looked up and saw Lena holding a small, old but meticulously preserved wooden box. It was the only keepsake her late grandmother had left her. "Don't touch that!" Sloane snapped, her voice sharp. Startled, Lena flinched, the box slipping. The lid popped open, and an antique brooch rolled out. Its delicate cherry blossom design bent out of shape on impact. Sloane's eyes widened. She shoved Lena aside, scooping the brooch up with trembling hands. "Who said you could touch my things!" Lena staggered back a step, her eyes filling with tears. She looked pitifully toward the doorway just as Julian strode in. He yanked Sloane back so hard she nearly fell. His eyes were ice. "What's wrong with you? It's a piece of junk! You pushed her over that?" "It was my grandmother's! The only thing I have left of her," Sloane said, her eyes red as she clutched the brooch. Chapter 2 1.32% "So what if it was? It's an inanimate object. Broken is broken!" Julian's voice was icy, brimming with impatience. "Pushing her was unacceptable. Apologize to Lena." Sloane gave a bitter, tear-stained laugh. "I'm not apologizing. I didn't do anything wrong." "No apology?" His eyes hardened. He called coldly toward the hall. "Guards! Take her to the courtyard. She can kneel until she admits she was wrong." Two guards walked in without expression, seized her, and forced her into the courtyard. The stones were icy beneath her knees. The pain shot through her legs like knives. She gritted her teeth and straightened her back, refusing to bow. The sky darkened, the air turned colder, and rain began to fall. Water soaked her hair and clothes, chilling her to the bone. Her body shook uncontrollably, her face pale as paper, but she kept silent. She didn't know how long she knelt before consciousness slipped away, and she collapsed in the rain. When she awoke, daylight had returned. She was still lying in the wet courtyard, her body aching as if broken. Julian stood under the shelter of the eaves, looking down at her without a trace of emotion. "Lena is merciful. She's chosen not to pursue this. We'll consider the matter closed. Sloane Quinn, cease your petty theatrics. Do not test my patience again." Sloane tried to stand, but weakness and cold dragged her back down. She looked at the man she had loved for all her youth and felt her heart turn to ash. Lowering her lashes, she hid every emotion. Her voice was hoarse but steady. "Got it." She dragged herself back to her room, her body drained and trembling, then lifted her eyes to the giant wedding portrait on the wall. In the photo, Julian's face was blank, his eyes distant and cold, exactly as he had always been with her. What a cruel joke. Their marriage had no ceremony, no blessings, only that single photo Harold had forced them to take. Even then, Julian had resisted, and the smiles in the final picture were barely faked in editing. She suddenly found it all absurd. She fetched scissors, took the portrait down, and cut it to pieces, one slice at a time, until it could never be pieced together again. If she was leaving, then all false hopes deserved to be destroyed too. Chapter 2 1.32% Discover our latest featured short drama reel. Watch now and enjoy the story!