CHAPTER 4

CATHERINE'S POV

The car door shut behind me. I sank back into the seat, my chest rising and falling as if I had just finished a long race. I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding.

In the driver's seat, Michael glanced sideways, grinning like he had a secret. "So now that you're officially free, you want me to take you somewhere fun?"

"Fun?" I shot him a sharp look. "What do you mean?"

"There were some pretty faces at the Solex launch today. Maybe you want to..."

"You're kidding." I crossed my arms. "I just signed divorce papers and you're trying to drag me into that place?"

He chuckled, unbothered. "Relax. It's not about that. Someone's waiting to see you. Someone you actually know."

My brow furrowed. "Who?"

"You'll see. I promise, no tricks this time."

I considered whether he was bluffing. Curiosity talked stronger than my hesitation. Finally, I nodded once. "Fine. Let's go."

The Solex launch glowed with low light and soft jazz. Michael led me through the private entrance, past velvet ropes and polished mirrors, into one of the exclusive rooms.

A tall figure stood from the sofa as we entered. His posture was sharp, his shoulders squared. And when his eyes landed on me, they lit up with recognition.

"Catherine. Finally, after all these years."

My step faltered. I searched his face something familiar nagging at the back of my mind. He noticed my hesitation and smiled.

"Have you forgotten? Six years ago Caleb Jordan. You and your father sponsored a kid to school."

The name hit me like a sudden light flickering on. "Wait " His hair had grayed, but the eyes were the same. "That's you?"

Michael clapped his hands together. "Knew you'd remember me. Here, Caleb Jordan isn't that kid anymore. He's killing it now magazine covers, art shows, the whole deal. Straight out of the slums into the spotlight."

Caleb waved a hand softly. "He's exaggerating. I'm doing okay."

I shook my head in disbelief. "I can't believe this. You really made it."

"Because of you," Caleb replied without missing a beat. "That scholarship changed everything for me."

My lips parted, but I had no reply. For once, gratitude from the past reached me here in the present.

We sat, drinking, talking quietly at the table. Caleb spoke about his work, his travels, the strange world of flashing cameras and endless interviews. I mostly listened, the tension in my shoulders easing as I slipped into the conversation.

By the time we stood to leave, the night outside felt different wider somehow.

Then a sharp sound broke through the music. Glass whistled through the air.

Caleb reacted faster than thought. He pulled me against him, twisting his back toward the blow. The bottle crashed, shattering with a dull thud against him before falling to the floor in pieces.

I gasped, my hand running over his back in panic. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," he said quickly, brushing it off with a grin. "It barely touched me."

My eyes shot toward the bar. There stood Walker, unsteady, with flushed cheeks and rage flashing in his eyes.

"You lying witch!" His voice tore through the lounge, drawing stares. "Cheating on my brother already?"

My jaw clenched. Michael's face tightened, ready to storm forward, but I caught his arm. "Don't. I'll handle it."

I walked toward Walker, slow and steady, each step slicing through the stale air of the bar.

Walker sneered. "What? The bottle didn't even hit you."

My voice came calm but sharper than any glass. "You're done. I've been meaning to say this for years."

"What?"

"The truth." I answered him. "You have never once called me your sister-in-law. Not once in six years. Just insults. Just names that cut. And yet who got you up for school? Who made sure you ate? Who covered for you when you skipped classes?"

He flinched but covered it with a laugh. "You think you're better than me? You think..."

"Shut up."

The word cracked like a whip. He actually stopped.

I blinked, steadying myself. "I'm not your family anymore. I never belonged to the Brook name. I should never have belonged to your brother. Whatever I do now, whomever I choose that's mine. Not yours. You have no right."

His mouth opened again, but no sound came.

The silence pressed down, heavy and broken. Michael stepped close, his voice low and mocking. "Guess somebody isn't used to hearing the truth."

Caleb folded his arms, his gaze fixed and stormy. "Michael, maybe school was wasted on you after all. Seventeen years and not one ounce of respect learned."

The crowd around us murmured, whispers filling the air.

I didn't wait for another word. I turned on my heel, motioning for Michael and Caleb to follow. The night outside swallowed us once again. The sting of broken glass and broken ties lingered behind. But inside my head, the words I had finally spoken played and spun like a storm.

Six years. Six years of swallowing every insult, pretending silence was easier than speaking. Why didn't I say it sooner? Why did I let him get away with it?

But now it was out. All of it. And with every step I took away from that launch, my chest felt a little lighter.

When we reached the car, Michael muttered, "Didn't think you had that speech waiting inside you."

I smiled softly. "Neither did I."

Caleb chuckled. "I've seen a lot on stages, but that—that was brutal. You cut him to pieces."

"Good," Michael added. "Someone had to."

I leaned my head back, eyes closing for a moment. "I don't care. He doesn't matter anymore."

But deep inside, another thought whispered through my mind: Then why does it still sting?

Michael dropped me right in front of my father's old house. I stood there for a moment, staring at the chipped paint on the door and the vines crawling around the stairs. It had been months since I last came back, and it showed.

The smell of dust hit me as I pushed the door open. Pale light cut through the blinds in thin stripes, catching the floating specks in the air. I slid off my jacket, grabbed an apron from the hook, and got to work.

The broom swept across the floor, each stroke bringing back memories I didn't ask for. When I bent to sweep under the sofa, my hand brushed against something hard. I pulled it out and froze.

It was a wedding photo of me and Ryan.

My younger self grinned brightly, eyes filled with hope. Next to me, Ryan stood steady, his face marked with the same impatience he wore throughout our marriage. Next to the frame sat an old diary.

I opened it, scanning the pages. Ryan's favorite foods. The brand of coffee he preferred. The way he liked his shirts ironed. Every page held proof of how I had bent myself to fit him.

My throat tightened. How foolish. I built my whole world around a man who never once looked at me the way I looked at him.

I closed the diary, forcing back tears.

A sharp buzz from my phone broke the silence. A text from Caleb: "Hey Catherine. You helped me six years ago. Now it's my turn. Let go of the past. Do whatever you want. I'll have your back."

I read it twice. Warmth flickered inside me, but I shook my head. Caleb meant well, but depending on someone else again wasn't an option. I'd spent too many years burying who I was just to be a good wife. That girl the one who was carefree, untamed, impossible to control... I had to find her again.

My thumb hovered over Ryan's number before I finally pressed call.

The line clicked. "What now, Catherine?" Ryan's voice was flat, cold.

"Tomorrow is Monday. Meet me at Aunt Larisa's office. We'll finalize the divorce."

Silence. Then the sound of his breath. "You..."

I ended the call.

RYAN'S POV

The call ended before he could finish.

Ryan stood on the balcony of his house, staring at the dead screen of his phone. His jaw tightened, fingers gripping the device hard enough to crack it.

From the bedside, Sarah stirred. "Who was that?"

"Nothing," he muttered, sliding the phone into his pocket and walking back toward her.

He tucked the cloth around her shoulders. "Take your medicine."

Sarah wrinkled her nose. "It's so bitter. The taste makes me want to throw up."

"Hmm." Ryan raised an eyebrow. "When we were still young, you told me you didn't mind bitterness. That it made you strong."

A glance flickered in her eyes, but she quickly smiled again. "If you say so. You know I will always listen to you."

She lifted the cup and sipped, making a face so dramatic he almost laughed.

"I'll sit with you," he muttered. "Next time, I'll tell Derek to switch it to pills."

"You're the best," she said, looping her arm around his and resting her head against him.

Ryan slipped free and left the room, heading downstairs.

Kate Walker met him at the bottom, carrying a steaming bowl of ginseng soup. "Is Sarah feeling better?" she asked warmly.

"She just took her medicine. She's talking with her parents now."

Kate's face brightened. "You know her father is the chairman of Summon Industries. He agreed to let her stay here with us. He's approved of the marriage too. We must take care of her. She should never feel neglected."

Ryan's gaze flickered. He remembered Catherine last winter, coughing with a fever as she stumbled downstairs trying to cook dinner because Kate had thrown a tantrum. She had dropped a plate, her weak hands trembling and he hadn't stopped her.

Why am I even thinking of that?

He pushed the thought away. She brought all this on herself.

The door slammed open, breaking his thoughts. Walker stormed inside, his expression twisted in anger.

"Walker!" Kate hurried over. "What happened?"

"I'm fine, Mom." He jerked his arm away when she reached for him. His eyes shifted to his brother. "I saw Catherine tonight."

Ryan's face darkened. "Where?"

"At the Solex launch."

Ryan's brow drew together.

"She wasn't alone," Walker added carefully. "She was close to some man. Looked familiar. Like they had more than a casual connection."

Ryan's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. So she really can't wait to throw herself at someone else.

Inside, a voice rose bitterly: Why does it sting at all? I should be happy to get rid of her.

Kate frowned. "Walker, are you sure?"

He nodded. "I know what I saw. She wasn't exactly hiding it."

Ryan's phone buzzed again. He didn't check the screen. He just shoved it deeper into his pocket. His chest felt strangely tight.

Kate touched his arm. "Don't think too much about her. Focus on Sarah. She's the one who needs us now."

Ryan gave a stiff nod. But the words rattled around in his head long after.

CATHERINE'S POV

Catherine stood by the window of her father's house later that night, watching the streetlight flicker. Her thoughts spilled in every direction, racing too fast to catch.

What am I doing? Signing these papers will end everything. Isn't that what I wanted? Then why does it still ache? Why is there a part of me that wants him to fight for me—just once?

She closed her eyes, her palm pressed to the old glass.

No. Enough of that. Tomorrow it ends.

Her phone lit up with another message. This time from Michael: "Catherine, you've finally made up your mind?"

Her lip curved faintly. "I've never been so sure," she whispered to herself.