Chapter 3

Clearly, he thought my determination to leave yesterday had been nothing but an act. In his mind, I'd gone home and obediently started packing, eager to move into the new house.

"Come on, enough with the long face."

Bastian walked over and nudged one of the boxes with the toe of his dress shoe, speaking as casually as ever.

"As long as you stop acting like a crazy woman and trying to control everything I do, you'll still get to be Mrs. Shaw. You can register your fingerprint tomorrow. For now, just move your stuff over today."

Molly peeked out from behind him, looking at me timidly, though I could see the challenge in her eyes.

"Sydney, please don't be mad at Bastian about yesterday. He was just angry and used me to get back at you. Of course you're still going to be the lady of the house."

Despite her apologetic words, her fingers remained tightly curled around Bastian's sleeve.

Six months ago, seeing her act like she'd already taken my place would have sent me into a frenzy. I would have screamed and thrown whatever I could get my hands on.

Now, though, I just found the two of them standing there ridiculous.

I neatly snipped through the tape with my scissors and stood up, my expression perfectly composed as I gave them a polite, faultless smile.

"Sure, I'm not mad. You two go ahead. I'll stay here and wait for the movers."

Bastian was clearly pleased with how well I was behaving. For once, he even reached out to ruffle my hair.

I tilted my head slightly to avoid his hand, but he was in such a good mood that he didn't seem to mind.

"That's more like it. I'm taking Molly back to the office to pick up some documents. We're having everyone over at the new house later. All my childhood friends will be there, so we'll make it a housewarming celebration. Just come straight over once you've finished moving.

"And don't be late. Don't embarrass me."

"Okay," I answered softly.

Looking thoroughly victorious, Bastian turned and left with Molly.

I waited until their footsteps had faded completely down the hallway before letting the smile fall from my face.

Then I took out my phone and called the interstate moving company.

"You can come pick everything up now. Four boxes in total, all going to Halewick. I'd like the highest level of insurance coverage."

Yes, I really was moving.

The only things I was taking were the computer I relied on for work and my design sketches. I wanted none of the furniture or other belongings Bastian had given me over the course of our five-year relationship.

I returned to the study and picked up a few thin sheets of paper from the desk. They were the wedding planner's contract termination agreement and the deposit refund receipt from our wedding venue, both of which I'd arranged the night before.

The cancellation fees were steep, but I was more than willing to pay them.

I switched on the paper shredder and fed the documents into it. With a harsh grinding noise, the pages bearing Bastian's name and mine were mercilessly torn apart, reduced to a pile of scraps that could never be put back together.

Half an hour later, the movers collected all four boxes.

I turned off the power, picked up the single black suitcase I'd kept beside me, and locked the apartment door.

Bastian thought I was moving into his new house.

Instead, I stood beneath the setting sun by an overpass, hailed a cab, and headed straight for the airport.

Back at the new house, a champagne cork popped toward the living room ceiling.

Several of Bastian's childhood friends raised their glasses, roaring with laughter.

"Bastian, you've really outdone yourself! Sydney used to have a temper like a complete psycho. Look at her now. She's actually sitting at home like a good little girl, waiting for the movers."

"That's how you break someone in, you know? You have to show her who's boss, or she'll start thinking you're the one who can't live without her."

Bastian lounged on the leather sofa with his legs crossed, swirling the red wine in his glass, his eyes full of arrogance.

Molly nestled against him like an obedient little accessory, peeling grapes for him.

The clock on the wall had already passed eight in the evening.

Even allowing for the move across town, Sydney should have arrived by now.

The smile on Bastian's lips gradually faded. He took out his phone and casually dialed Sydney's number.