Chapter 2
At the TPMichelson & Co.’s shareholders‘ meeting, Trevor Michelson finally responded–but only after confirming the call was really from Xanthe.
“Xanthe,” his voice rang out cold and clear, “three years ago, you did everything you could to protect Barrington. You blocked me. You cut off all contact. You even forced me to leave Springfield. And now, all of a sudden, you’ve changed your mind?”
He let out a mocking laugh. “What happened? Things didn’t go your way?”
The room was silent, all the shareholders too scared to breathe too loudly.
After all, in Chicago, two families stood at the top–the Michelsons and the Wentworths.
The whole city knew that Trevor and Xanthe had grown up together. Everyone used to think those childhood sweethearts were the perfect match.
When Xanthe moved to Springfield alone to attend college seven years ago, Trevor followed and expanded his business empire there, too.
But three years ago, he suddenly returned to Chicago. Rumor had it, he came back with a broken heart.
Now, hearing the sneer in his voice, Xanthe replied calmly, “Yeah. Couldn’t tell the difference between a man and an asshole.”
That earned a scoff from the other end, the sound sharp and dismissive.
Taking the hint, Xanthe didn’t press further. “Forget it,” she said, her voice still calm. “Pretend I never called.”
She was just about to hang up when his voice cut in–low and commanding.
“Hey! Don’t you dare.”
There was a pause, heavy with tension, before he continued, “Add me back. On everything. And send me your address.”
“One month,” he repeated. “I’m coming to Springfield to bring you back. This time, you don’t get to change your mind.”
The sheer confidence in his voice made Xanthe laugh quietly, almost in disbelief. “Alright.”
Later, in Barrington’s study at home, she placed two documents into the safe–her resignation letter and the divorce papers he both had signed.
She then took out a glass jar filled with ashes–the remains of ninety–nine love letters she’d burned.
Next, she burned the old photos of them together too. Everything in that villa that tied her to him -she would erase it completely.
The flames flickered in her eyes, bright at first, then slowly fading–just like her love for him. With each handful of ash, another piece of hope disappeared. And when the jar was full, so was her disappointment.
When Barrington came home, he found her in the study. The thick smell of smoke that still clung to the air made him frown.
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“What are you burning?”
Xanthe shifted slightly, blocking his view. “Just some old paper,” she replied coldly.
Barrington’s brow furrowed further. He caught a glimpse of scorched fragments–maybe photo -and stepped closer.
But before he could get far, a woman’s soft, teary voice called from the hallway,
Just like that, Barrington turned on his heel and rushed out while Xanthe quickly finished tidying up and followed him out.
The moment she stepped into the hall, she saw him gently cradling Vionnet’s fingertip in his mouth, his eyes full of concern.
“I’m so sorry, Xanthe,” Vionnet said sweetly. “I didn’t mean to bother you this late.”
“But that photo on the wall…” she added quickly, “It’s hung too low. I scratched my finger on the frame. It’s really dangerous.”
Xanthe scoffed inwardly. ‘That wedding photo has been there for years without ever injuring anyone. The very first day she shows up, it just so happens to cut her? Wow!
The problem wasn’t the photo.
It was the bride in it.
But before she could argue, Barrington cut her off. “She’s right. That photo’s in the way. Xanthe have someone take it down and move it to the storage room.”
Out of Barrington’s sight, Vionnet shot Xanthe a smug smile–a silent declaration of war.
Kanthe didn’t love Barrington anymore, but that didn’t mean she was going to let Vionnet have a smooth ride either.
The storage room’s already full,” Xanthe replied, her voice steady. “There’s no space left.”
Her disobedience made Barrington’s jaw tense.
And his entire face hardened when Vionnet, never one to waste a performance, cradled her
arely scratched finger like it had been severed and let out a whimper like a pitiful kitten.
Ouch… Barry… it really hurts.”
“hat was all it took for Barrington to snap at his wife. “Then burn those damn photos!”
8:01 pm DDD
