Chapter 3

For a moment, Tina couldn't speak. Her chest tightened, anger tangled with something heavier, pressing up into her throat.

She turned and walked out.

The onlookers from earlier were gone. Oliver had already cleared the area with a few bodyguards.

Jonathan stood by a black Bentley, head slightly lowered, his expression unreadable.

Tina forced her voice to stay steady, though the tendons in her neck stood out. "What are you doing out here? Weren't we getting divorced? Go inside."

He looked up, his gaze sharpening.

"You begged me to marry you. Did you forget that? You held onto me and said even if I didn't love you, as long as you could stay by my side, watch me, wait for me your whole life, you'd be fine."

"It doesn't count anymore." Her chest rose sharply, her voice rough. "None of it counts."

Something inside her shifted, dull and aching, like a wound splitting open.

As far back as she could remember, she had been following him around.

Jonathan was six years older. The adults had told her to see him as her big brother.

She never did. She treated him like a peer, someone she could tease, argue with, and drag into whatever trouble she was getting up to.

As the Reed family's heir, he had always been buried in schoolwork. He was mature and steady, a prodigy that adults held up as an example.

If Tina couldn't solve a problem, she went to him. If she fought with her parents, she went to him. If she ran out of money, she went to him.

No matter how much trouble she caused, he handled it.

When she went through her rebellious streak, she clashed with her family and flew overseas by herself.

He found her and spent the next few weeks dragging her from one thrill to the next, indulging every reckless impulse she had.

They spent days on a yacht, lying on the deck with the sky above them and the ocean stretching in every direction.

She asked him endless questions; childish, strange, sometimes dark, to the point even she got tired of hearing herself.

But he never did.

He answered everything, patient and careful, his low voice carrying over the sound of the waves, steady and almost gentle.

She had thought he was exactly what everyone said: focused on school, all logic, and untouched by distraction.

Back then, he was just as reckless as she was. They raced cars, went on wilderness expeditions, jumped out of planes, and learned to shoot. He taught her every one of those skills.

Through her childhood, her teenage years, her youth, Jonathan had always been the person she looked up to most.

She thought she knew a side of him no one else had ever seen. She thought what they had was something unique.

That was why she had said she was willing to wait for him forever.

But now, he was different.

And if he had changed, what did those promises mean?

She spoke again, steadier this time, "Did you look for me last night? Were you worried?"

He looked down at her, his eyes clear of anger, settled into something colder.

"You shoved Sadie, ran off without apologizing, and didn't answer your phone. And you expect me to go looking for you? Tina, you're 24. You're not a child."

"You think I pushed her?"

Tina's voice was barely above a whisper, and a wave of weakness swept through her.

"You think I'd shove someone with a disability? Is that what you think of me?"

"Then what am I supposed to think?" Jonathan kept his tone controlled. "Sadie has too much pride to fake a fall in public and throw her prosthetic aside. I know you didn't mean to hurt her. You lost your temper and acted without thinking."

Tina let out a sigh. The words she had been holding onto slipped away before she could say them. She didn't have the energy to explain. She didn't want to.

"Fine. You're right. I'm selfish and vicious, so let's get divorced." She met his gaze. "They reopen at two this afternoon. I'll stay right here. I promise you'll get your divorce today."

Jonathan stared at her. The fury he had been holding in finally broke loose. What little restraint he had left kept him from saying a word.

Instead, he caught her wrist and pulled her toward the car.

"Let go of me!" Tina struggled, but it made no difference.

The door slammed shut.

Tina froze when she saw the boy inside, quietly working on his homework.

Something in her snapped. Color rushed to her face as she turned on Jonathan, eyes sharp.

"Are you serious? You still let me see him? Do you think I won't kill him right now?"

The boy didn't react. Whether he didn't understand or didn't care, he kept writing.

Jonathan closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, his breathing had steadied.

"If you want a divorce, fine. But not like this. What do you want people to say? That the Reeds abused you?"

Tina lowered her head. The anger drained away, leaving something cold behind.

Even now, what he cared about was still the Reeds' reputation.

She heard him tell the driver to go, then instruct Oliver to call the housekeeper and have her prepare disinfectant and a change of clothes.

The housekeeper hesitated. "There aren't any of Mrs. Reed's clothes left at home."

Jonathan paused and looked at her.

"I had a friend move my things out," Tina said.

She told the driver to stop. Her lips were dry, but she still managed a faint smile.

"I'll make sure I'm dressed appropriately when we finalize the divorce. I won't embarrass you or the Reeds."

This had never happened before. No matter how badly they argued, it had never gone this far. Something was changing.

"Do whatever you want." Jonathan's voice stayed flat, a trace of mockery flickering in his eyes. "If you get out of the car now, what do you think tomorrow's headlines will be?"

Tina lifted her eyes to the rearview mirror. Cars followed close behind, packed with reporters hungry for a story and ready to turn anything into a circus.

Of course, what he cared about was the Reeds' image. Not her.

Half an hour later, they arrived at the place they had been living in.

Their house had been a villa on the outskirts of the city. They had only spent their wedding night there. The next day, Jonathan moved into a luxury apartment downtown by himself.

Tina hadn't wanted to live apart, so she followed him, even though she preferred the quiet of the villa.

Since moving in, he had been working late more often than not. Sometimes, he didn't come home at all. Even when they made love, she was always the one who initiated.

He was reserved and controlled. She had gotten used to it. Every now and then, when he showed a hint of warmth, it was enough to leave her floating.

"Clothes will be here soon," Jonathan said, heading into the study.

The boy followed him. They looked like father and son.

Tina stared at their backs, her eyes stinging.

Not long after, Oliver arrived with the clothes. Sadie came with him.

"I'm here to pick Andy up," Sadie said.

Tina took the clothes, her voice even. "I don't like strangers in my house."

Sadie's expression tightened for a second, then smoothed out. "Oliver, could you bring my son out?"

She handed him a stack of photos. "And I've developed the photos. Please give them to Jonathan."

As Oliver took them, a few slipped and scattered across the floor.

Several landed at Tina's feet.

In the photos, a younger Jonathan stood in a white shirt, head lowered, his eyes fixed on a newborn in his arms. The look on his face was soft and intent, nothing like the distant calm she knew.

For someone so controlled, so cold, to treat a child with no blood relation as his own, just because the child belonged to the woman he loved, didn't make sense.

The photo answered everything.

The boy was six.

Tina and Jonathan had only been married for four years.

A sharp ringing filled Tina's ears as her body started to shake. She wanted to cry, but nothing came. Nausea surged, her chest tightening until she could barely breathe.

Pieces began to fall into place.

Why he always came home late.

Why he was always busy.

Why he never wanted a child.

Thinking about it now, Tina realized her refusal to let Sadie in must have looked ridiculous. Sadie had probably been laughing at her behind her back.

Tina felt like an idiot. She had been guarding the shell of a marriage, still holding on to hope. It was almost laughable.

At least it was nearly over. Soon, she would finally be free.