Chapter 5

Chloe's POV:

Noah froze in place. His expression shifted slowly from disbelief to panic.

"Mommy, you… you're really leaving? You really don't want me anymore?"

His voice trembled. All that arrogance from moments ago vanished.

He rushed forward and grabbed my hand, terrified I'd disappear in the next second.

I looked down at this child—the one I'd nearly died bringing into the world.

His eyes were red. His lips pressed tightly together. He looked like he was fighting desperately not to cry.

Something inside me twisted painfully.

But then I remembered what he'd said at Vivian's bedside. "I'm going to wish all your pain transfers to Mom instead."

The pain dulled. I pushed it down.

I crouched and gently pried his fingers off my sleeve.

"Noah, you're growing up," I said. My voice sounded so calm it felt unfamiliar, even to me. "You need to learn to be independent."

"I don't want to be independent! I want you to come home! I don't want you to leave me!"

Noah's tears finally spilled over. He reached out to grab me again, but I stepped back.

I stood up and put distance between us.

The sight of him crying and calling for me almost broke my resolve.

But I knew better. He wasn't used to me leaving. That didn't mean he actually needed me.

Give it a day or two. Vivian would sweet-talk him, and he'd go right back to saying how much he hated me.

As for Ethan—

I glanced at him standing a few steps away.

His face was dark. His jaw was clenched tight. Emotions I couldn't read churned in his eyes.

He must have seen the divorce papers I left behind by now.

He hadn't contacted me these past few days. Hadn't come looking for me. That meant he'd agreed, silently. He probably just hadn't figured out how to tell Noah yet.

I'd fight for Anna's custody. I'd make sure of it.

As for Noah… he could stay with Ethan. After all, Ethan and Vivian were the only people he cared about anyway.

I turned away, pulled my car keys from my coat pocket, and pressed the unlock button.

Almost immediately, the headlights of a white Porsche Cayenne parked nearby flashed twice.

It was part of the dowry my mother had secretly given me years ago. Still registered under her name.

I'd almost forgotten it existed.

Last night, I'd remembered. I'd dug it out of the garage and spent hours scrubbing off the thick layer of dust.

I opened the door and slid into the driver's seat.

In the rearview mirror, I saw Noah standing frozen in place. Even through the closed window, I could faintly hear him calling, "Mommy."

But I didn't turn around.

I started the engine and drove away.

---

Ethan's POV:

The white Porsche passed right in front of me.

Chloe sat in the driver's seat, her expression distant. Indifferent. Like she didn't even know me.

I frowned. A question surfaced in my mind.

That car wasn't registered under my name.

Where the hell did Chloe get the money to buy a Porsche?

She'd quit her job after we got married. I'd been transferring her a monthly allowance—enough to cover her and the kids' basic expenses, but nowhere near enough to save up for a car like that.

"Dad!"

Noah's voice, thick with tears, broke through my thoughts. He ran over and grabbed my sleeve. His eyes were red and swollen. "Is Anna really transferring schools? Is Mom never coming back?"

I crouched down and wiped the tears from his face, keeping my voice as steady as possible. "Your mom's just throwing a tantrum. Don't worry. Anna's not transferring."

"Really?"

"Really."

I walked Noah into his classroom and watched him go inside.

Only after the door closed did I turn and leave.

I pulled out my phone and immediately dialed Chloe's number.

The phone rang for a long time before she picked up. Her voice came through flat. "Hello."

I kept my anger in check, but my tone came out hard. "Chloe, what the hell are you trying to do? What's this tantrum about?"

"I told you. I'm not throwing a tantrum."

"Not throwing a tantrum?" I let out a cold laugh. "You run off with Anna, abandon Noah, and now you're transferring her to another school? If that's not a tantrum, then what the hell is it?"

Silence on the other end. Then she spoke.

"Ethan, do you remember the day Anna was hospitalized?"

I froze.

She let out a bitter laugh. "Anna had a high fever. I couldn't reach you no matter how many times I called. I had to drive her to the hospital alone. Later, when I went to handle the paperwork, I passed by Vivian's room. I heard Noah say he wished all of Vivian's pain would transfer to me instead."

I frowned. "He's a kid. He didn't know what he was saying. Why are you holding it against him?"

"I'm not holding it against him. I'm just… hurt."

"Chloe, you're being too sensitive."

I pinched the bridge of my nose and lowered my voice slightly. "Vivian's father got into a car accident trying to save me. I have a responsibility to take care of her for the rest of my life. What's wrong with being there for her when she's sick?"

"So taking care of her means sacrificing me and Anna?"

"I'm not sacrificing you!"

My voice rose without meaning to. "You're the one being selfish! Over something this small, you run off with Anna, throw the whole family into chaos—can't you be a little more mature about this?"

"Mature?"

She laughed suddenly. It was soft, but sharp. Cold.

"Fine. Go find your maturity, Ethan. If you want to take care of Vivian so badly, then marry her. Take care of her for the rest of your life."

"What are you talking about?"

"I already signed the divorce papers and left them at the house. Sign them, and we can both move on."

Silence.

My mind raced. Divorce papers? When did she leave those? I'd never seen them.

"Chloe, stop playing games," I said coldly. "I'm giving you time to think this through. Bring Anna back. Soon."

She didn't respond.

The line went dead.

She'd hung up on me.

I stared at the screen—Call Ended—and stood there, stunned.

In six years of marriage, she'd never hung up on me. Not once.

I gripped my phone tightly. Frustration churned in my chest, stuck somewhere between rising and falling.

Then my phone buzzed again. It was Ryan, the company manager.

"What is it?" I answered, my tone sharp.

Ryan hesitated. "Mr. Miller, there's a problem with the Reed Group design project."

My chest tightened.

"What problem?"

"Their lead said our design proposal is nearly identical to a draft they rejected six months ago. They're accusing us of plagiarism. They're furious. If we don't give them an explanation, they're pulling out of the partnership."

"Plagiarism?" I bit out the word, my mind racing. "Who's the lead designer on that project?"

"G," Ryan said. Then he paused. "The online designer you just approved for resignation a few days ago."