CHAPTER 2
Author: Rachel Holt
last update2025-12-15 09:42:50

The prison yard was a large open space of cracked concrete and faded yellow lines. Once, it had been used for outdoor exercise. Now it was mostly empty, a transition zone between the cell blocks and the outer gates.

Ethan stepped into the sunlight and squinted. After three years of dim corridors and artificial light, the brightness felt overwhelming. He raised one hand to shield his eyes, blinking rapidly as his vision adjusted.

The guard behind him grunted. "Keep moving, Ethan. Gate's that way."

But Ethan had already stopped.

His heart stuttered in his chest.

There, parked near the inner fence, was a sleek silver luxury car. The kind that cost more than most people earned in five years. Its polished surface gleamed like a mirror under the afternoon sun.

And standing beside it, one hand resting on the door, was her.

Vivian.

Ethan's breath caught. For a moment, he forgot how to move. He simply stood there, staring, as if she might disappear if he blinked.

She looked exactly as he remembered. No. She looked better. Her long dark hair fell in perfect waves over her shoulders. She wore a white designer dress that hugged her figure, paired with heels that made her look taller, more elegant. A string of pearls hung around her neck. Her makeup was flawless.

She looked like someone who belonged in a magazine. Someone untouchable and beautiful.

Ethan's lips trembled. His eyes grew hot.

She came, oh She actually came.

For three years, he had imagined this moment. He had pictured it every single night before falling asleep. The moment he would walk out of this place and see her waiting for him. The moment they would finally be together again.

And now it was real.

"Vivian!" Ethan's voice cracked as he shouted her name. His legs moved before his brain could catch up. He ran toward her, his arms already reaching out, ready to pull her into the embrace he had been dreaming of for a thousand nights.

"Vivian, I—"

She stepped back.

Her hand came up, palm out, stopping him cold.

Ethan stumbled to a halt, confusion flashing across his face. He stood there, arms still half-raised, his smile faltering.

"Vivian?" he said again, quieter this time. Uncertain.

She looked at him. Her expression was blank. No warmth. No joy. No relief. Just cold, flat indifference, as if she were looking at a stranger on the street.

"Do not touch me," she said.

Her voice was ice.

Ethan flinched as if she had slapped him. His arms slowly lowered to his sides. He tried to laugh, but it came out awkward and broken.

"I… I know it has been a long time," he said quickly, his words tumbling over each other. "I know things are strange right now. But it is okay. We can go home. We can talk. I have so much to tell you, Vivian. So much has happened. I"

"We are not going home," Vivian interrupted. Her tone was flat and final.

Ethan blinked. "What?"

"We are not going home," she repeated, slower this time, as if speaking to a child. "Because that is not your home anymore."

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. He stared at her, his mind struggling to process what she had just said.

"What are you talking about?" he whispered.

Vivian sighed, as if this conversation bored her. She reached into her designer handbag and pulled out a folded stack of papers. She held them out toward him, her expression utterly detached.

"I want a divorce."

Ethan did not move. He did not take the papers. He simply stood there, frozen, as if his entire body had stopped working.

"A… divorce?" The word felt foreign in his mouth. Wrong. Impossible…

"Yes." Vivian's eyes were hard. "I have already signed my part. All you need to do is sign yours."

"But… why?" Ethan's voice cracked. His hands trembled at his sides. "Vivian, I went to prison for you. I took the blame for your accident. I gave up three years of my life so you could stay free. I did everything for you. How can you"

"Exactly," Vivian cut him off sharply. "You are an ex-convict now. A criminal. Do you really think I can build a future with someone like that?"

Ethan felt his chest tighten. His throat closed up. He could barely breathe.

"I have worked hard these past three years," Vivian continued, her tone businesslike, almost casual. "I have made connections. Built my career. Sterling Global Corporation just entered the city, and I am about to secure a partnership deal with them. Do you know what that means? It means I am going to rise to the top. I am going to become someone important."

She looked him up and down, her lip curling slightly in disgust.

"Someone like Marcus Ashford understands that. He comes from one of the four great families. He has money. Power. A future. He has promised to help me secure the Sterling partnership." She paused, letting her words sink in like poison. "A man like him is worthy of standing beside me."

Ethan's face had gone pale. His fists clenched at his sides.

"You… you are seeing someone else?" His voice was barely a whisper.

Vivian laughed. It was a cold, mocking sound.

"Of course I am. Did you really think I would wait for a criminal? That I would waste my life tied to someone useless?"

She reached into her bag again and pulled out a check. She held it out toward him, dangling it between two fingers like it was a piece of garbage.

"Here. Ten thousand dollars. Consider it your compensation for the trouble." Her smile was cruel now and satisfied. "Take it and leave quietly. Move on with your pathetic little life. Do not cling to me. Do not embarrass yourself."

She let the check flutter in the air for a moment, then tossed it at his feet. The divorce papers followed, scattering across the concrete.

Vivian folded her arms and looked down at him with cold, triumphant eyes.

"Trash like you does not deserve me.”

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