Chapter 3

Seraphina's POV

Early the next morning, I returned to the penthouse apartment I had lived in for four years.

It had been Casper's coming-of-age gift to me.

The place was littered with traces of the three of them. The baby's breath Julian gave me was still withering in a vase. The limited-edition art supplies Rowan bought me were neatly stacked in the corner. Casper’s exclusive access keycard lay quietly on the entryway console.

I pulled out a small suitcase and packed only a few changes of clothes and my ID documents. I didn't touch a single designer bag, custom dress, or piece of jewelry they had bought for me.

Walking over to the desk, I pulled out a clean sheet of paper.

I drafted a share transfer agreement and a formal letter of resignation. I returned every single asset under my name that had any connection to them.

The old Muxi wanted to take nothing with her. And I, Seraphina, wanted absolutely nothing of theirs either.

Just as I was about to walk out the door, the iPad screen lit up. Thanks to iCloud syncing, I saw the text messages they had just sent.

Casper: [Are you done throwing your tantrum tonight? When you are, come back to the office and apologize to Elara. You need to learn how to be sensible.]

Julian: [Seraphina, it was extremely rude of you not to even wish Elara a happy birthday last night. Once you cool down and realize you were wrong, then you can come find us.]

Rowan: [You missed the morning meeting. I'm docking your bonus for the month. Don't think for a second you can threaten us by running away from home. We won't indulge your spoiled behavior anymore.]

Looking at those words, I found I didn't even have the energy to be angry.

All I felt was a deep, bone-weary disgust.

They always loved using this condescending, high-and-mighty attitude to "educate" me. They tried to use coldness and distance to break me down and force me to submit.

It was a pity they had miscalculated one crucial detail.

I, Seraphina, never look back.

I took off the plain silver band on my ring finger—the ring that symbolized the bond between the four of us—and tossed it into the trash can without a second thought.

Then, I closed the door and stepped into the elevator, never looking back.

Three days later.

The executive boardroom of the Thorne Group, New York.

Casper tugged at his tie in irritation, glaring at the empty chair across from him. "Seraphina still hasn't shown up for work?"

Flipping through documents with a cold expression, Rowan replied, "No. She's got quite a temper this time. She didn't even submit a leave of absence."

Julian spun a fountain pen between his fingers and let out a light chuckle. "Just let her be. She's a privileged girl who's been sheltered by us her whole life. How long do you really think she can survive out there? She's probably hiding in her apartment right now, crying and waiting for us to come coax her out."

"We absolutely cannot give in easily this time," Casper's eyes darkened. "She has to understand the world doesn't revolve around her. An independent, resilient girl like Elara is exactly the kind of role model she should be learning from."

Just then, Casper's assistant practically violently shoved the boardroom doors open, panting in panic.

"Sir, there's a problem!"

"What are you panicking about?"

"Miss Seraphina's apartment... it's completely empty!"

"What do you mean, empty?!" Casper shot out of his chair.

Half an hour later, the three men burst into the penthouse apartment.

The place was impeccably clean. Not a single thing was missing. The closet full of designer bags was untouched; her jewelry was perfectly arranged on the vanity.

Casper's access card, Julian's spare key, and Rowan's resignation letter were placed neatly in a row on the dining table, right next to a legal document relinquishing all her company shares.

"She didn't even take a single bank card..." Julian's voice began to shake. He dashed frantically into the bedroom, ripping open the closet doors. "Her dresses are here! Her shoes are here! Where could she possibly have gone?!"

Casper stared dead at the trash can, his eyes locking onto the discarded silver band. All the color instantly drained from his face. Ignoring the sharp pang in his chest, he began tearing through the apartment like a madman.

"Where are the security tapes?! Go pull the footage right now!" Rowan roared, his normally stoic face now completely warped by visceral panic.

When they finally watched the surveillance footage—seeing me carrying a tiny suitcase, calmly stepping into a black sedan with diplomatic license plates—the three arrogant, untouchable men collapsed onto the sofa in absolute defeat.

They had assumed I was simply throwing a fit.

It was only when they realized I had meticulously scrubbed away every trace of my existence that the truth finally hit them.

I really, truly, didn't want them anymore.