Chapter 4

Luci's Perspective

Sunlight streamed through the study's glass window, falling on that call record where I saw my phone number.

"What else do you have to say?" Harrison's voice was cold.

He stared into my eyes, his shoulders tensed: "Don't you know who my grandmother talked to on her last phone call before the accident? It was you. You called and distracted her, that's why she got hit by the car."

"It wasn't me," I took a deep breath and shook my head, "I want to divorce you, why would I call Grandmother? I have no reason to do such a thing."

"No reason?" He laughed, sending chills down my spine, "Don't think I don't know, you never wanted a divorce. All these stunts you're pulling are just to get my attention. You're really good at playing hard to get."

Those words hit my chest like a heavy blow.

Five years.

I had followed him around, pursued him for five years, from confessing my feelings, to proposing marriage, to getting the marriage certificate.

I thought that as long as I gave my whole heart, I could make him love me, but I never expected this was how he saw me.

My chest felt tight. I turned to leave, not wanting to hear him continue.

He grabbed my wrist and yanked hard. I lurched forward and crashed into his arms.

His breath caught, and he pushed me away with such force that I staggered backward several steps.

"To get my attention, you really can do anything!" he mocked.

I looked at his face, this face I thought I would love for a lifetime, but now it only felt strange and ironic.

I slowly spoke in a calm voice: "Let's submit the divorce petition to the court tomorrow. That way you'll never have to see me, the person you hate so much, ever again."

His face darkened and he sneered, "You want to go to court, and I have to play along? Do you think you're that important? I'm sorry, but you've lost the divorce agreement you signed."

His casual words made me so angry I wanted to hit him!

The next day I walked out of Forrester Manor with my backpack. When I moved in years ago, I brought several suitcases, now only a single backpack accompanied me.

The lawyer was a man in his thirties who spoke crisply and directly, immediately using professional terminology. A laptop sat in front of him, its screen filled with dense legal clauses.

"In your situation, filing for divorce is completely justified." He took a sip of his Americano and pushed a document toward me, "But you need to be prepared—if he hires a good legal team, there might be property disputes. However, as long as the evidence is sufficient, you won't necessarily lose."

I nodded, recording everything he said in my phone's notes. If necessary, I'd file a lawsuit. I was determined that no matter how difficult, I would get divorced.

I couldn't let the rest of my life be wasted on someone who treated me like a joke.

As I left the coffee shop, I was distracted. My high heel caught in a gap at the threshold, and I tilted to the left. The lawyer was quick to react and caught my arm.

"Careful."

Just as I was about to thank him, the sound of a car braking sharply came from behind.

I turned to see a black Bentley stopped by the roadside. The door opened, and Harrison, his face livid like a lion whose territory had been invaded, strode over.

Without even glancing at the lawyer, he bent down and hoisted me over his shoulder. My world turned upside down, my vision filled only with his leather shoes and the fine gravel on the ground.

I struggled desperately, pounding my fists on his back, "Put me down! You bastard!"

He didn't budge, threw me into the back seat, and shut the door. I scrambled up to grab the door handle, only to find it was locked.

He got into the driver's seat and looked at me through the rearview mirror, a smile on his lips but cold intent in his eyes: "Since you love seducing men so much, I'll let you seduce to your heart's content."

That smile sent chills down my spine. I screamed: "You can't do this to me! This is illegal detention! I'm calling the police!"

He methodically pulled out a piece of paper from the glove box. The paper was yellowed, looking quite old. I took it and scanned it, my entire body freezing.

It was Grandfather's IOU, with his signature on it—I recognized it. The loan amount column showed a figure that made my head spin just looking at it.

"You're your grandfather's heir." Harrison's voice came from the front, unhurried, "Shouldn't you repay the money he owes?"

I clutched that IOU, my fingers trembling.

Before I was kidnapped, Grandfather had indeed been obsessed with investments, but at that time I thought our family was very wealthy and didn't take it seriously. I had no idea Grandfather had borrowed money, and the creditor was actually Harrison.

The car stopped in front of a building with flashing neon lights.

In broad daylight, those lights weren't on, but I knew what this place was. The largest nightclub in the east side of the city, one of Harrison's properties.

"Get out."

He led me through that door.

The nightclub. Dim lighting, thundering music, the air mixed with the smell of alcohol and perfume. The receptionist, seeing Harrison, immediately put on an especially obsequious smile and led us inside.

"When you've earned enough here to pay me back," he pushed me into a private room, "I'll sign the divorce agreement with you." He paused, "Otherwise, I'll ruin your grandfather's reputation. You know I can do it."

The door closed.

I stood there, stunned for a long time.

I thought of Summer. That name always appearing on his phone screen, that woman who smiled radiantly while holding his arm at the charity gala, that woman he held dear in his heart.

He was entangled with Summer, yet still wanted to trap me with a marriage certificate. He didn't want me, he just wanted to see me suffer.

I took a deep breath.

I wouldn't be threatened by him.

Women of the Lane family never give up easily!

When Grandmother was still alive, she secretly gave me a set of jewelry, saying it was the most valuable thing from her dowry, locked in a bank safe.

On her deathbed, she held my hand and said: "Baby, if you ever face difficulties in the future, this might help you, but Grandmother hopes you'll never need it."

At the time I was only crying and didn't understand the meaning behind Grandmother's words. Now I realize Grandmother probably knew all along that life wouldn't always be smooth sailing, and women need to leave themselves a way out.

I took a taxi to the bank. All the way there, staring at the street scenes flashing by the window, my mind repeatedly calculating: how much could that set of jewelry sell for, would it be enough to pay the debt, would what's left be enough for me to start over.

Once I got the divorce decree, what I needed to do was change my phone number, take my son and leave this city, never to see Harrison again.

The lady at the bank counter checked my information and said with a standard smile: "Ms. Lane, the safe requires the account holder to present their ID and key to open it."

"I have my ID." I pushed the document across.

"You also need the key." She politely repeated, "The key given to you when the account was opened, did you bring it?"

I froze in place.

When Grandmother locked the jewelry in there, she did give me a key. But I had moved too many times, from college dorm to rental apartment, from rental apartment to Harrison's villa, and then I was kidnapped.

Now I couldn't even remember the last time I saw that key.

I opened my mouth, my throat dry: "What if... the key is lost?"