Chapter 3

"Don't bother. I can go by myself—"

I didn't even get to finish my sentence before Marshall came in with a folder in hand.

He said nervously to Amelia, "Amy, our business partner for this project is about to show up, but the numbers aren't adding up. What should I do?"

Amelia immediately dropped my hand and left with Marshall, saying, "Marshall is young. He needs my help with the project. Your injuries look scarier than they are. I'm sure you can handle them yourself. I'm doing this for the company's sake anyway.

"Once I've settled things, I'll come home and check on you."

With some difficulty, I pulled out the divorce agreement I'd stuck in the drawer and let out a relieved smile as I watched Amelia leave.

The so-called home that Amelia and I once shared ceased to exist a long time ago.

…

Three days before the divorce decree was finalized, I realized I'd left an important document at home, which I needed to complete the handover at work.

When I went back to retrieve it, I found that I couldn't unlock the front door. I tried using my fingerprint and the familiar password the lock was set to, but nothing worked.

Knowing that too many failed attempts would alert the police, I had no choice but to make a video call to Amelia.

She stared at me through the screen and remained silent for a few seconds before explaining, "Well, sweetheart, Marshall came over a few days ago to stay with us for a while. He found the password too complicated to remember, so I changed it to his birthday."

I could hear how sheepish her tone was. As I stared at the locked door, I let out a self-deprecating chuckle.

It wasn't a very expensive property, but it was the first house we bought together—our marital home. When we set up the place, Amelia specifically used our wedding anniversary as the password for the front door.

It was incredibly ironic to me, really.

Amelia rushed over to open the door for me, but before she left, she grabbed me, saying, "Jeremy, Marshall is having a hard time securing a business project. Can you help him?

"Liam White, the CEO, is an old classmate of yours. With you involved, I'm sure nothing will go wrong. Marshall needs a successful project to silence the doubts about him in the company.

"You kept saying you wanted to see the Northern Lights, right? I promise that once this project is successfully completed, I'll make the trip with you."

As I took in the completely unrecognizable interior of the house, my mind went blank.

All along, Marshall had been flaunting on social media about how wonderful his life was right now. He even talked about having his own private love nest.

It turned out the love nest was simply the remodeled version of the home made out of my blood, sweat, and tears.

Amelia had been so busy being all lovey–dovey with Marshall for almost a month, never once realizing that all of my possessions were long gone.

With the document in hand, I turned to leave. "We've already gotten a divorce. Besides, I'm sure it'll be even more effective if you handled the project yourself instead of leaving it to someone like me, whose reputation has already been destroyed."

…

To secure the project, Amelia spent the next few days showering me with concern and attention.

This project would allow Marshall to firmly establish himself at the company in a legitimate way. She had to secure this business deal for him.

After seeing how firm I was, she started a large-scale layoff of all my trusted subordinates and those who'd been close to me.

When they came to convince me to see the project to completion, I studied the weariness on their faces and ended up agreeing to it. They had families to raise and support. I couldn't let them suffer because of me.

Inside the conference room, Marshall eyed me tauntingly.

"To think that the great Mr. Carter is now working for me. My, my. To what do I owe such honor? Nevertheless, it's always best for people to know their place. It's folly to think that they can cling to something that isn't theirs, no?"

As I skimmed the documents to get an overview of the project, I remarked curtly, "Does a certain homewrecker think that he's suddenly the real deal after stealing someone else's place? I suggest he finds a mirror and takes a good look at himself first."

Marshall was so infuriated that his face turned red.