Chapter 3
The banquet hall of Thorne Manor was ablaze with light, the glittering crystal chandeliers rendering the extravagant feast like a sacred temple from myth. I stood on the periphery, clad in a meticulously tailored charcoal-grey suit. My duty was to ensure the evening’s flow remained beyond reproach—whether it was the unscheduled switching of wine brands or the unseemly topics that might spill from the lips of opportunistic investors, I was tasked with nipping them in the bud, long before they could take form.
Today was our fifth anniversary. I had prepared a weighty gift—not jewelry, nor some shallow luxury item, but a profound research report on the restructuring of Thorne Global’s defense architecture. I had spent six months, sleepless and tireless, simulating thousands of possible contingencies. I thought, on such a special day, she would grant me at least a glance—or even a perfunctory nod.
Selina stood at the top of the grand staircase, her gown embedded with fragments of diamond, casting her as an untouchable Snow Queen. Every time she raised her glass, the socialites swarmed like bees. I remained in the dim corner, silently monitoring every blind spot in the security perimeter.
"Jack, come here."
It was her first summons in half an hour. My heart skipped a beat; even though five years of cold violence had taught me to suppress anticipation, I was driven by instinct, parting the crowd to reach the center of the stairs. Beside her stood Ethan—her young, handsome personal administrative assistant, who looked at me with a complicated expression.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," Selina’s voice resonated through the speakers, crisp, elegant, and carrying an undeniable force. "Today is not merely my anniversary gala; it is a major turning point in my life."
She gently touched her barely discernible abdomen, a rare softness appearing on her face. A stir rippled through the crowd, followed by thunderous applause and congratulations. I stiffened, as if someone had dumped a basin of ice water over my head. Abdomen? She had never mentioned a thing.
"This child is Ethan’s and mine," she dropped the bomb with alarming casualness. Her gaze did not fall upon Ethan, who now looked sheepish, but shifted toward me, bearing a calm that bordered on the cruel. "Given the complexities of the Thorne family affairs, I have no time for the trivialities of childcare, and Ethan is needed in the core combat operations unit to assist me."
She paused. In front of hundreds of top-tier guests, before the cameras, and before the titans of the industry, she smiled and pointed straight at me:
"My ‘husband,’ Jack, has always been fond of children, and he has looked after me for many years. Whether it’s my daily life or the trifles of this household, his work is impeccable. Therefore, the custody and guardianship of this child will be delegated to Jack. I trust he will be a most capable... father, just as he has been an impeccable butler."
The air in the room seemed to solidify. All gazes became needles, piercing through me. Some giggled, some whispered—the eyes of those business magnates were filled with the smug playfulness of spectators at a theater. In this hierarchy-obsessed world, she had ground my dignity into the dirt and salted the earth over it.
She wasn't seeking my consent; she was utilizing this grand humiliation to announce to everyone: in the eyes of Selina Thorne, Jack Harper was never a husband; he was merely a dispensable, outsourceable laborer. She had even thoughtfully arranged my "career transition"—to become her professional, live-in nanny.
I watched the arc of her lips; it was a display of absolute mastery over order. In that moment, the memories I had treasured—the late-night contract patches, the exhaustive strategic schemes, the meticulous safeguarding of what I called "our sacred bond"—all became a farce.
Was I mad? I had mistaken such extreme contempt for reliance for all these years. All my devotion, in her eyes, was nothing more than a form of cheap housekeeping labor.
"Jack, why are you silent?" She stared at me, with that impatient, command-officer air. "Did you not hear me?"
My mind was a blank slate, yet unusually clear. The "love" at the bottom of my heart died completely with that audible sneer. It was a sense of nausea—an extreme revulsion at the waste of five years of my life. I lowered my head, staring at the shoes I had polished to a mirror shine, and what welled up in my heart was not anger or sorrow, but an ice-cold sense of relief.
"Jack, aren't you going to thank Selina?" Ethan stood behind her, taunting me with that condescending tone.
I scanned the room, looking at these exquisite faces, and found them uglier than the grotesque. I said nothing. I simply took off my wedding ring before the entire assembly and placed it on a passing wine tray.
The ring emitted a crisp click—a jarring intrusion against the banquet’s background music.
"I do not accept this proposal," I spoke calmly. Though my voice was low, the surrounding crowd fell into an instant, deadened silence. I turned around, ignoring Selina’s momentarily frozen expression, and under the gaze of everyone present, I did not bow my head in deference. I straightened my spine and walked, step by step, out of that magnificent cage.
As I stepped out the front gate, the cold night wind brushed against my face. I finally realized that for five years, I had been kneeling on the ground, gazing at the stars, forgetting that if I only stood up, I could see the entire wilderness.
Goodbye, Thorne. Goodbye, my cheap existence.
