Chapter 2
Chloe's POV:
Before I could respond, Vivian walked over with a bright smile. "Anna's being discharged today? What a coincidence! Why don't we all ride back together?"
She acted like the gracious lady of the house.
The irony? That car belonged to my husband. Our shared property.
Noah's voice rang out immediately. "No way! I hate Mom. She always makes me eat gross vegetables. I don't want to ride in the same car as her!"
Anna flinched and hid behind me.
Kids his age didn't know how to hide their feelings. Everything showed on their faces. Noah looked at me like I was his enemy.
My heart shattered. Every breath hurt.
Noah had always been frail. I'd carefully controlled his diet, planning balanced meals every single day. And now that was why he hated me.
"Chloe, Noah really dislikes you that much?" Vivian sounded shocked, glancing between Noah and me.
Ethan stood nearby, watching coldly. Silent.
As if his wife being rejected by their own son had nothing to do with him.
My son's hatred cut deeper than Ethan's indifference ever could.
This was the child I'd nearly died bringing into the world. And he despised me.
My heart went numb. It felt hollow, like cold wind kept pouring through the emptiness.
"You go ahead. Anna and I will take a cab," I said quietly.
I was a mother. In front of my daughter, I had to stay calm. Who else did Anna have to rely on?
But my trembling hands gave me away.
Anna looked scared. Even after we got in the taxi, she placed her small hand over mine.
"Mommy, don't listen to Noah. You're the best mommy in the whole world."
The strength I'd been clinging to crumbled.
I squeezed her hand and ruffled her hair gently, forcing a smile. "And you're the sweetest girl in the world."
As soon as we got back to Maplewood Manor, I contacted my lawyer, Howard.
"I need you to draft divorce papers. I'll leave with nothing. I just want custody of my daughter, Anna."
Howard worked fast. That same evening, he delivered the agreement.
I stared at the thin document, then looked around the elegantly decorated but soulless mansion. My eyes landed on the photo frame sitting on the living room table.
What used to be a family portrait of the four of us had been replaced. Now it showed Ethan, Noah, and Vivian. Just the three of them.
A bitter smile crossed my face. I signed the papers and left them on the table, along with a letter I'd written for Noah.
Ethan had probably been planning this divorce since the moment Vivian came back.
That night, Ethan and Noah didn't come home.
For once, I didn't call to check on them. Instead, I spent most of the night packing up everything Anna and I owned.
Six years in this house, and my belongings barely filled two suitcases. The rest—bags and boxes—were all Anna's things.
I called a courier service and had everything shipped to the apartment my parents had left me.
Early the next morning, I grabbed my suitcase in one hand and Anna's hand in the other. I took one last look at the house that had trapped me for six years.
Anna looked up at me, confused. "Mommy, where are we going?"
"We're going to see your grandparents." The words caught in my throat. My chest tightened.
Six years ago, I'd cut ties with my family for Ethan. Would they even forgive me?
With a mix of emotions swirling inside me, I dialed my mother's number. She answered almost immediately, her voice soft and warm.
"Chloe."
That one word—so gentle, so accepting—made the tears fall.
I gripped the phone tightly, fighting to keep my voice steady. Guilt and regret flooded through me.
How could I have been so foolish? Throwing away the people who loved me most for a man who never loved me at all.
"Mom, I've decided to get a divorce. I want to bring Anna home."
Her response came instantly, full of urgency. "Really? Where are you? I'll send a driver right now."
She didn't ask why. She just stood by me. Firmly. Unconditionally.
Tears blurred my vision. I sniffled. "Mom, I still have a few things to take care of here. I'm staying at the apartment for now. Once everything's settled, we'll come home."
After I hung up, I squeezed Anna's hand.
Once the divorce was finalized, I could take my daughter and start fresh.
As for Noah and Ethan?
I didn't want either of them anymore.
Ethan's POV:
By the time I got home, it was late.
Usually, Chloe would be waiting. She'd take my coat and hand me a warm glass of honey water.
But tonight, the living room was pitch black. Silent.
I ignored the faint discomfort creeping in, though annoyance followed quickly. Anna had just been discharged—she needed rest. Where the hell had Chloe taken her this late at night?
Noah looked around curiously. "Dad, where are Mom and Anna? Aren't they home?"
"I don't know. Probably out somewhere." My answer came out dismissive. I headed into the study and spotted a white envelope and some documents sitting on the desk.
The envelope had no stamp. Just my name written across it.
I walked over to pick it up, but my phone rang. Vivian.
Remembering the hopeful look in her eyes when I'd left earlier, I answered, my voice softening automatically. "Vivian? You're still awake?"
I absentmindedly set the documents on the bookshelf. A gust of wind blew through the window, and the papers and envelope fluttered to the floor.
Her voice came through weak and apologetic. "Ethan, I'm sorry to bother you so late… I just felt anxious all of a sudden. I wanted to hear your voice."
"The doctor said you need to rest. You should go to bed." Vivian's constant need for attention was starting to give me a headache. I was married. I couldn't keep running to her side.
"I can't sleep… Ethan, don't worry, I just—" Her voice carried that familiar dependence.
"It's late. Whatever it is can wait until tomorrow." I cut her off, my tone firm. She needed to sleep.
I opened my laptop to review some documents, but my focus kept slipping.
The house felt too quiet tonight. No sounds of Chloe playing with the kids. No laughter.
Noah ran into the study. "Dad, have you seen my game console? I can't find it."
"Look for it yourself." I didn't turn around, so I didn't see him pick up the envelope and documents from the floor.
He muttered under his breath, "Another one of Mom's shopping lists."
Then he tossed them into a pile of old newspapers.
