Chapter 2
The overseas signal was patchy. I had to try three times before she finally picked up.
“Mom… it’s me.”
There was a pause on the other end. Then her voice came through, choked with tears.
“You heartless girl! How could you be so cruel? All I did was try to stop you from being with that penniless boy, and you cut off all contact with your mother for all these years. Do you know how much that broke my heart?”
Back when I got together with Scott, my parents had never approved of him. They ran a background check and were shocked to find out he’d hidden the truth from me—he was neck-deep in debt, owing tens of thousands of dollars.
My father had slammed the table in fury. He said any man who could hide something like that must be manipulative, and I’d never be a match for him.
But I had been blinded by love, too stubborn to listen. I broke ties with my family without a second thought, convinced that my choices were noble and true.
To this day, Scott still believed I was an orphan, that I had no parents, no one waiting for me.
I had stayed with him through everything. Helped him climb out of debt, piece by piece. Watched him rise from nothing. I had been there when he had no one.
And now that he stood tall as the admired CEO of the company, I had become nothing more than a burden to discard.
“Mom… I’m pregnant.”
There was a loud crashing sound on the other end—she must have dropped the phone.
A long silence followed before she let out a soft sigh.
“Well… if that’s your decision, then come back to New York in three days. Let me take care of you.”
When I hung up, a wave of emotion rose from the pit of my stomach, churning like a storm. ‘In the end, it’s true—being someone’s daughter is the easiest role in the world. Scott, if you can’t treasure me, then I’ll leave. Quietly. Forever.’
The apartment was exactly as I’d left it: cold, empty, silent.
Scott hadn’t been home for at least two weeks. Maybe longer.
I let out a hollow laugh, dropped my things, and headed for the bathroom, planning to wash up. But just as I reached for my toothbrush, a message from my friend popped up on my phone.
[Has Chloe no shame at all? She actually posted that on her story?]
Confused, I clicked on her social media—and instantly felt like something had slammed into my chest.
In the photo, Chloe stood in front of a hotel mirror, taking a selfie. Her upper body was nearly bare.
Behind her, a man’s arms were wrapped tightly around her waist, his face hidden from view, but the curve of his body unmistakable.
It would have been nothing more than a risqué couple’s photo, just one of those flirty moments people post to show off their affection.
But then, I saw the scar on the man’s shoulder.
I recognized it instantly.
Scott, the same man who had sworn he was working overtime that night.
That scar had a story. When we were still in love, still too poor to afford anything but each other, we used to climb a mountain near the rundown apartment we rented. It was free, and that made it our favorite escape.
One day, while we were climbing, loose rocks began to fall.
I’d frozen, too late to dodge. He threw himself at me and pushed me out of harm’s way.
The stone crashed onto his back. The scar remained as a silent reminder of a day I thought proved his love.
I had cried for hours back then, clutching his hand like a lifeline. I’d vowed to never leave him, no matter what.
But now—how quickly the heart of a man can change.
Tears blurred my vision, but I could still make out the caption she had written: [I said this scar was ugly. He said he’d have it tattooed with my name tomorrow.]
I laughed.
So this was love? Just an illusion I had chosen to believe in?
The next morning, I was the first to arrive at the office. Not because I was eager to work, but because I needed to resign.
I stood in the corridor, breathing deeply, again and again, trying to hold myself together.
The last step of resignation required a signature from the CEO, Scott.
