Chapter 5.

~ Sienna’s POV ~

I don’t take a cab. I need time to think, to figure out what to do next.

So I walk.

I walk forty blocks in heels that are blistering my feet, dragging my body through the city like a wounded animal. My hip is still throbbing in pain, and my arm still aches from his grip.

But the physical pain and dizziness is nothing compared to the noise in my head.

I have no job, but I have my savings. Will it be enough to take care of my sister and I until I find a new job?

By the time I reach the penthouse building, I am highly exhausted and breathing raggedly. The doorman, George, looks at me with pity as he opens the door.

I keep my head down, mumbling a thank you, and head straight for the private elevator.

I checked with Maya who confirmed that Vincent left with Chloe few minutes after I left.

Also pictures of them heading to the hotel are everywhere which means the house is empty.

I just need five minutes. Just five minutes to grab my birth certificate and my passport.

Then I will disappear. I will be the ghost Vincent wants me to be.

I rest my forehead against the cool metal of the elevator wall as it shoots up forty floors.

Just get in. Take what you need and get out.

Ding.

The doors slide open. I step out into the foyer, my keys already in my hand, bracing myself for the silence of an empty house.

But it isn’t silent.

Once inside, I hear it instantly. A sound that stops my heart dead in my chest.

Laughter.

High-pitched, innocent, joyful laughter. The sound of a child.

I freeze, my keys digging into my palm.

Then, I hear a deeper voice. A voice has only screamed at me for the last three years.

“Boom! You got me, buddy! You got the bad guy!” Vincent roars playfully.

I walk forward, drawn by a very sick curiosity. My legs feel like they are moving on their own. I reach the archway of the living room.

And my mind goes blank.

There, in the center of the living room, is a cute little boy. The same boy in the picture. He has dirty blonde hair and cute blue eyes. He is crashing two toy cars together, shrieking with delight.

And seated on the floor next to him—not in a suit but in casual sweatpants—is Vincent. He is laughing and tickling the boy’s stomach. He looks... happy.

He looks like a father.

The air leaves my lungs in a painful whoosh.

‘The mistake corrected itself.’ That’s what he said when I lost our baby, my body lying on the floor and bleeding profusely. He called our baby a mistake. Said I trapped him with it.

But here he is. Playing with her son.

My eyes drift to the sofa.

Chloe is there. She is curled up like a cat, watching them. She’s wearing one of Vincent’s white dress shirts. The shirt is buttoned wrong, exposing her creamy skin. Her legs are bare. Her hair is messy. And her neck...

I feel bile rise in my throat. Her neck is covered in purple, angry love bites. Marks that scream exactly what they have been doing while I was getting fired.

They didn’t go to the hotel. They came here. To rub it in.

But too bad for them, I don’t care anymore.

I take a step back, ready to bolt.

But my heel catches on the marble floor and three heads snap towards me.

The laughter dies instantly.

Vincent rises to his feet, his face shifting from fatherly warmth to cold, hard annoyance in a split second.

“Well, look who finally decided to show up.”

He walks towards me, blocking my view of the boy. “We’ve been waiting for you. What took you so long? Did you walk?”

‘You’ve been waiting?’ I think, my mind screaming. ‘You’ve been waiting while I have been walking around the city with my head in the clouds after you ripped me off my livelihood while you were busy licking hickeys onto the neck of your Lover!’

I stare at him. “You... you were waiting for me?”

“Of course,” he says, “I assumed you’d come for your scraps.”

Chloe stands up, sauntering over to stand beside him. She wraps an arm around his waist, resting her chin on his shoulder. She looks at me with pity, but her eyes are dancing with joy.

“Oh Vinnie, don’t be mean,” she coos. “She looks terrible. Look at her hair. It’s a rat’s nest.”

She traces a finger down Vincent’s chest, right over a button that is undone. I see a matching hickey on his collarbone.

“I just came for my documents. I’ll get them and leave.” I say quickly before turning to leave.

But Vincent stops me, grabbing my arm.

“Not so fast,” he says before he reaches onto the console table and picks up a thick brown envelope. He shoves it into my chest.

I have to grab it to keep it from falling.

“Sign these,” he orders. “Now.”

My fingers are numb as I fumble with the clasp. I pull out the thick stack of papers. The header screams at me in bold, black ink.

PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE

Divorce papers.

He is divorcing me.

“I’m doing you a favor, Sienna,” Vincent says as he steps closer, forcing me to smell her perfume on him. “I’m letting you out. But let’s be clear on the terms.”

He points a finger in my face.

“If you fight me, if you drag this out, if you ask for a single cent of alimony, if you try to claim spousal support, I will destroy you. I have photos, Sienna. Private photos. I will leak them. I will paint you as the desperate, mentally unstable bitch who trapped a grieving man into a marriage he never wanted.”

Fight him? I wouldn’t waste my energy.

Chloe giggles softly. “He really will, honey. And nobody believes the help over the CEO.”

I read through the papers.

Asset Division: None.

Alimony: None.

He is throwing me out on the street with absolutely nothing after three years of hell.

“I can’t stand to look at your face anymore,” Vincent spits, mistaking my silence for hesitation. “You are a constant reminder of the worst time of my life. I want you gone. Today. Now.”

He thinks he’s breaking me. He thinks I’m going to fall to my knees and beg.

But as I look at his signature at the bottom of the page, I feel the best relief of my life.

My mind flashes back to the agreement I signed three years ago. The one he has held over my head for three years

The rule said I had to pay him a million dollars if I chose to run away. But this is different. He is the one filing the papers. He is the one kicking me out which means I owe him nothing.

He’s so arrogant, so desperate to get rid of me for Chloe that he forgot his own trap.

I look up at him. For the first time in three years, I don’t see a monster. I see a fool.

“You want me to sign this?”

“I want you to sign it and get the hell out of my house.”

With pleasure

I walk over to the console table. I pick up a pen.

“Sienna, don’t play games,” he warns. “You are nothing. You have nothing. If you don’t sign—”

“Shut up Vincent!.”

The silence that follows after my outburst is deafening. Even the boy stops banging his cars.

I sign my name. Sienna Hayes.

Done, I cap the pen, turn around, and toss the papers at his chest.

They scatter across the floor.

“Done.” I breathe out and turn to leave.

“Wait.” Vincent barks, grabbing my wrist.

The touch. The same grip that has left bruises on me for years snaps the last thread of my control.

“Let go of me.”

“You think you can just walk away?” he sneers, his ego bruised by my lack of tears. “After everything I gave you? I put a roof over your head. You should be on your knees thanking me, you ungrateful little—”

“I said LET GO!”

The palm of my free hand slaps his face with the force of three years of repressed rage. It is a solid, meaty sound that echoes through the room.

My hand stings but damn it feels so good.

Vincent stumbles back, releasing me. He clutches his face, his eyes wide with shock. A perfect red handprint is already blooming on his skin.

“Did you just…” he chokes out.

“I fucking did.”

“How dare you?!” Chloe shrieks. “You crazy bitch! You don’t have the bloody right to touch him!”

She lifts her hand to slap me, but I catch it in the air, throw it away, and place a slap on her face.

She screams, stumbling back into the coffee table, knocking over a vase of white lilies. It crashes to the floor, water and glass exploding everywhere.

“Sienna!” Vincent roars. He looks terrifying, his veins bulging in his neck. “Have you lost your fucking mind?!”

“I lost it a long time ago Vincent!” I scream back, “you beat it out of me, remember?”

I move closer to him, fueled by pure adrenaline. “You wanted a divorce? You got it. You want me gone? I’m leaving.”

“Guards! Get her out! NOW!” he barks before rushing to comfort Chloe.

The heavy front doors burst open. Two burly security guards walk in.

“Get this psycho out of my house!” Vincent spits, pointing at me. “Throw her in the gutter where she belongs! She leaves with nothing except the clothes on her back!”

One of the guards reaches for me.

“Don’t you dare touch me!” I snap at the guard.

The guard stops, surprised by the venom in my voice.

I look at Vincent one last time. He is holding Chloe, who is sobbing fake tears into his chest. He looks small. He looks pathetic.

I take my bag and phone and start to walk away from them.

“Don’t you dare come crawling back!” Vincent screams after me as I walk to the elevator. “You’ll starve without me! You’ll be on the street in a week, you hear me?! You are nothing but a pathetic whore!”

I step into the elevator and hit the lobby button.

As the doors slide shut, cutting off the sight of his red, angry face, I don’t feel fear. I don’t feel the crushing weight of poverty or the terror of being homeless.

I feel light, as if all my burdens have been washed away.

I walk through the lobby, ignoring the doorman’s stare. I push the glass doors open and step out into the rainy night. The rain is pouring down in sheets.

And I step out into it.

I have nothing. No umbrella. No job. Very little money.

All I have is my bag and phone.

The water soaks my blouse in seconds. It runs down my face, washing away the makeup, the tears, the last three years of filth.

I lift my face to the sky and close my eyes.

I am cold. I am broke. I am alone.

But for the first time in my life... I am finally free.