Chapter 3

He scooped Claire into his arms and whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll take you to the hospital.”

Leaning against his chest, Claire cried pitifully, “Will it leave a scar? How am I supposed to face anyone after this?”

“It won’t. I’ll take you to the best doctor right away.” He comforted her in a low voice and walked out without a single glance back, leaving me behind, battered and covered in blood.

I forced myself to endure the pain as I went to the private hospital I usually visited.

Just as the doctor was about to clean my wounds, James rushed in and pulled away the anesthesiologist.

“Quick! Claire’s in so much pain. Get her some anesthesia immediately!”

“But this lady–”

It was only then that James seemed to notice me. He frowned and was about to speak when I said calmly, “It’s fine. Go ahead.”

The doctor hesitated but eventually followed him out the door.

I turned to the other doctor beside me. “Just remove the glass shards.”

The doctor froze. “But without anesthesia, it’ll hurt a lot. Can you take it?”

“It’s fine. Just do it.”

Throughout the entire procedure, I clenched my jaw and didn’t make a single sound.

By the end, even the doctor couldn’t help but sigh. “You have an incredible tolerance.”

I didn’t reply.

Of course. If I hadn’t learned to endure, I would’ve broken down countless times over the years.

After my wounds were treated, I returned home. When I pushed the door open, the faint aroma of soup drifted from the kitchen.

The housekeeper turned around when she heard me and spoke with slight embarrassment. “Ma’am, Mr. Tennant ordered me to prepare this for Miss Fisher. Her hand is injured, and he has told me to go over and take care of her for the next few days.”

Her gaze swept over the bandages covering my arm, and she hesitated. “Should I… leave you a bowl too?”

I smiled, but the smile never reached my eyes. “No need.”

Even the housekeeper knew to show concern for me. Yet, the man who had shared my bed for seven years didn’t offer a single word of care.

Just then, my phone vibrated. When I checked, it was an official offer letter from an overseas company with which I had interviewed online.

Without hesitation, I replied to confirm my start date. Then, I quickly pulled up a flight booking page and chose a departure seven days later.

Since the house was empty most of the time, it would be easy to leave without notice. My hand had not fully recovered, but I managed to pack my luggage quickly.

When everything was ready, I stood in the middle of the room and looked around. I had lived here for seven years. To say I felt nothing was impossible, but more than regret, what I felt now was relief.

For the last time, I dialed his number.

He picked up, his voice impatient. “Tess, how dare you have the nerve to call me? I’m warning you, if anything happens to Claire, you’ll pay for it!”

I opened my mouth but realized there was nothing left to say. Before I could answer, he hung up on me. I stood there in silence, slowly lowering my phone as the corner of my lips curved into a bitter smile.

I pulled out our marriage contract and signed the attached divorce agreement. Then, I placed it neatly on the desk in his study. I didn’t leave a note or an explanation, but I knew he would understand.

Dragging my suitcase behind me, I walked out of that house and checked into a quiet little hotel. For seven days, I rested there in silence. During that time, he didn’t send a single message or make a single call.

Seven days later, I sat in the airport terminal, waiting for boarding, when my phone suddenly rang and his name lit up on the screen.

I glanced at it once, then shut my phone off without hesitation. His name disappeared from the screen in an instant, just like our marriage, gone completely.

I boarded the plane to my new life without looking back.