Chapter 3

Eric was in the middle of a meeting when Mrs. Collins called, her voice trembling with emotion. Still, he sounded completely unfazed. "Divorce agreement? What now? She's throwing another tantrum? Just ignore her. Let her throw her fit—she'll come crawling back once she gets tired."

He didn't believe for a second that Amelia would really leave him. That woman had loved him in such a pathetic, self-deprecating way for the past three years—how could she just give up because of someone like Chloe? In his eyes, it was just another classic play of hard to get.

But that night, as Eric walked into their villa, he wasn't greeted by the usual warm lights or her familiar figure. Instead, the whole place felt eerily cold and empty.

"Where is she?" His tone was already laced with annoyance.

"Sir... Madame left around noon and hasn't come back since," Mrs. Collins said nervously.

Scanning the unusually bare living room and closet, Eric's unease grew. He went upstairs—her scent in their bedroom had faded, and the vanity, once cluttered with her skincare products, was completely bare.

She really left? A twinge of panic flickered in his chest, but Eric quickly stuffed it down.

"She's got no one out there. Let her suffer a bit—she'll come running back soon enough."

He was convinced Amelia couldn't live without the comfortable life he provided.

Meanwhile, Amelia, dragging her suitcase, tried to check into a hotel to regroup. At the front desk of a well-known five-star hotel, she handed over her ID, only to be met with a polite but apologetic smile from the receptionist. "I'm sorry, Ms. Carter, we can't check you in."

She blinked. "Why? Is it fully booked?"

"No... um, the system shows we're unable to complete your booking," the receptionist said, eyes avoiding hers.

It hit her immediately. With the Reeves family's reach in the hotel industry, Eric must've ordered all hotels under their name—or even affiliated ones—not to take her.

Fury boiled inside her. What kind of game was he playing? Force her back by cutting off every exit?

She stormed over to the lounge area, took a deep breath, and called the number she knew too well.

The line connected fast. Eric's voice came on, laced with smugness. "What? Only been a few hours and you're already crying uncle?"

"Eric!" Her voice cracked with rage, "What the hell is wrong with you? Why are hotels suddenly not letting me check in?"

Eric let out a cold laugh. "Didn't you storm off so proudly wanting a divorce? I just figured I'd help you get a taste of life without me. You really believed you'd still enjoy all those perks—spending my supplementary card like it's yours, walking around with the 'Mrs. Reeves' title? Dream on."

He paused, then his voice turned even chillier. "Not even qualified for a hotel room now. That's the 'freedom' you wanted, right? If you know what's good for you, get back here now, and maybe I'll pretend none of this happened."

Amelia was shaking with rage—she'd never felt this kind of loathing for Eric before.

Nearly yelling into the phone, she snapped, "Eric, you absolute jerk! Do you seriously think pulling these low-life tricks is gonna make me crawl back to you? Dream on! I'd rather sleep on the streets than ever go back to your side. This divorce? It's happening. Done deal!"

She slammed the call shut without giving him a chance to respond.

On the other end, Eric stared at the now-dark screen, phone still to his ear, completely stunned. Did she just...curse at him? And hang up on him? Alright then. Fine. Let's see how long she can keep up this tough act.

After that heated exchange, the anger in Amelia cooled down into an overwhelming sense of helplessness and despair. She went through her wallet and bank app, staring at the numbers like they were mocking her—dead cold and brutally honest. She was broke.

In these past three years, she gave up everything—her career, her financial freedom—all to play the role of 'Mrs. Reeves.' Eric gave her a secondary credit card with a sky-high limit, sure, but her personal savings? Pathetic. She didn't even have enough to cover a few nights in a luxury hotel.

Out of options, she dialed her bestie Samantha Collins.

The phone rang forever before someone finally picked up. "Hey, Amelia? Why are you calling this late?"

The soft gasp and flirtiness in Samantha's voice made it very clear what Amelia had just interrupted. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. "Sorry... I didn't mean to—uh, you can go back, it's nothing important," she stammered.

Samantha shoved the guy next to her off the bed and sprang up. "Your voice doesn't sound right. What happened? Where are you?"

"I... I'm fine, really. I just wanted to ask—" Amelia's walls cracked the moment she heard her best friend's concern, and her voice choked up.

"Location! Send. It. Right. Now." Samantha cut her off, already throwing on a dress, "I don't care if God himself shows up tonight—my girl comes first. Sit tight, I'm on my way."

Less than thirty minutes later, a cherry-red car screeched to a stop in front of Amelia.

Samantha jumped out, hair a mess, the thin straps of a nightdress peeking out from under her long coat. But her eyes were all focus and worry. Her gaze fell on the small suitcase by Amelia's feet and then on her pale, exhausted face. She didn't say a word—just walked over and gave her a big, solid hug.

"You poor thing. You've been through hell, haven't you? C'mon, let's go home first."

Later, curled up on Samantha's comfy couch, Amelia told her the whole story.

By the end of it, Samantha practically launched herself off the couch, furious. "That bastard Eric! Total scumbag! Who does he think he is, some kind of emperor? Keeping the main wife at home while he plays around outside? Ugh, I could puke!"

"And that Chloe? Acting all innocent and pure—please! She's just a shameless homewrecker! Flaunting her pregnancy test results like a trophy—what, trying to force her way into his life now? Amelia, we can't let this slide! I know a few paparazzi guys. I'll drop some juicy dirt on her tomorrow and watch her crash and burn!"

Amelia felt warmth spread in her chest, touched by her best friend's rage on her behalf. But she still gently shook her head. "Samantha, thank you. But I don't want to go down that road."

Samantha frowned hard. "Why not? After everything they've done, you still care about saving their dignity?"

"It's not about them. It's for me."

Amelia stared at the steam curling from the cup in her hands, her voice soft. "This marriage is over. I'm devastated, yes. But I don't want to end it with some ugly drama. Eric hurt me, no doubt. But for three years, he made sure I had everything I needed. And I did love him—truly. That love may be gone now, but I don't want to ruin whatever's left of the memories or my self-respect. I just want a clean break."

Samantha looked at her, heart aching. Amelia was clearly hurting, yet still holding onto her grace. She sighed, sitting back down and wrapping an arm around Amelia's shoulder. "Girl, you're just too kind, seriously. Letting those cheaters off this easy... So, what's next?"

Amelia took a steady breath, the fire slowly returning to her eyes. "I'll crash at your place for a few days until I find somewhere permanent. And about that major animation project, The Legend? They asked me to voice Goddess Nüwa—I've been hesitant because of, well, life. But now? I think I'm ready."

"The Legend? That's huge!" Samantha's eyes lit up, then widened further as a thought struck her. "Hey, have you thought about moving on-screen? I mean, come on! You've got the background, the talent—you were top of class in drama school! You put everything on hold for that man. But with your looks, your vibe, and your skills? Staying behind the mic sells you short. You've voiced so many hit female leads already—you've got fans, girl. You can totally support yourself!"

Amelia looked hesitant. "But I haven't been in front of a camera in three years. What if I'm rusty?"

"Rusty? Please!" Samantha gave her a firm pat. "You're Amelia! The genius, the queen bee of our class! Your acting makes those so-called influencers look like amateurs. Just treat it like a fresh start. I've got your back, all the way! When you're shining on screen again, Eric is gonna wish he had eyes in his head!"

As the two talked through plans for the future, a new spark of certainty grew in Amelia's chest. Even with how drained she felt, her heart was steady for the first time in a while.

Late that night, the piercing ring of a phone shattered the quiet. Amelia groaned, groggy as she answered. "Hello?"

Mrs. Collins' anxious voice rushed through the line. "Mrs. Reeves, sir's stomach condition flared up badly! He drank on an empty stomach and now he's in pain... He's asking for that soothing recipe you used to make. What were the ingredients again?"