Chapter 3: The Unraveling Facade

As soon as I stepped out of St. Jude Hospital, a sleek, jet black Maybach pulled up smoothly to the curb in front of me.

The tinted rear window rolled down, revealing a middle aged man wearing a tailor made suit and crisp white gloves. His hair was streaked with silver, and his posture exuded authority and quiet power.

It was Master Harrison, the chief butler of the prestigious Sterling Global Conglomerate, the shadowy financial giant that controlled over forty percent of the world's maritime trade and banking networks.

"Young Lady Sophia," Harrison said respectfully, stepping out of the vehicle and opening the rear door for me with a deep bow. "We have been waiting for your signal. The Old Master was deeply grieved when he heard about your third loss."

I placed my handbag into the leather interior and stepped inside, sinking into the soft, luxurious seats.

"Thank you, Harrison," I said, my voice quiet but firm. "It's time to end this farce."

"Understood, Young Lady," Harrison replied, closing the door softly before walking around to the driver's seat. "The papers for your official return to the Sterling Group have already been prepared. The Old Master said that as long as you return home, the entire Sterling family will stand behind you."

I rested my head against the cool leather headrest, staring out at the passing skyscrapers of Crestview City.

Three years ago, when my biological grandfather found me after years of searching, he begged me to take over the Sterling family's global enterprise. But back then, I was blindly, foolishly in love with Damien Vance. I wanted a simple, ordinary life. I didn't want corporate power or billionaire titles. I wanted to be a good wife to the man I loved.

So, I hid my real identity as the sole heiress of the Sterling empire. I hid my legal qualifications, my master's degrees from Oxford, and my vast personal wealth. I walked into the Vance family as a humble, middle class girl, believing that true love didn't care about money or status.

How naive I had been. In the eyes of Damien and his mother, my humility was treated as weakness, and my simplicity was treated as trash.

"Harrison," I said softly, looking at the butler through the rearview mirror. "Has Damien tried to freeze my personal bank accounts yet?"

Harrison let out a low, polite chuckle. "Yes, Young Lady. Two minutes ago, Mr. Vance's assistant issued an executive request to freeze all secondary cards associated with the Vance corporate account."

"And?"

"And the bank manager informed them that your primary card is not linked to the Vance family at all," Harrison answered, a sharp glint in his eyes. "It is an unlimited Black Centurion card backed directly by the Swiss Sterling Vaults. When Mr. Vance's assistant tried to flag it, the Swiss central bank flagged his corporate servers for unauthorized financial interference."

I let out a soft, breathy laugh. "Damien must be quite confused right now."

"Indeed, Young Lady. Where would you like to go first?"

"To the Vance Villa," I said coldly. "I have three years of my life to pack into a single suitcase."

Thirty minutes later, the Maybach pulled into the quiet, gated neighborhood where the Vance family estate was located. I had Harrison wait near the front gates while I walked up the marble steps to the grand front door.

I unlocked the door with my key and walked inside. The house was quiet. The marble floors, crystal chandeliers, and expensive oil paintings looked cold and lifeless.

I went straight up to the master bedroom on the second floor. I pulled out a single, medium sized hard suitcase from the closet. I didn't touch any of the expensive designer dresses, diamond necklaces, or luxury handbags Damien had bought for me over the years. Those were bought with Vance money, and I wanted nothing that bore his name.

Instead, I only packed the things I had brought with me three years ago: a few simple cotton dresses, my late father's old wristwatch, my legal journals, and my personal documents.

In less than twenty minutes, my single suitcase was packed and zipped shut.

As I walked down the grand staircase holding my suitcase, the front door clicked open.

Mrs. Vance, Damien's mother, walked into the foyer, holding a box of luxury baby clothes from an expensive boutique. Beside her was Clara, wearing a silk shawl over her shoulders, leaning weakly against Mrs. Vance's arm while acting as if she were a fragile porcelain doll.

When Mrs. Vance saw me standing on the stairs with a suitcase in hand, her face immediately twisted into an expression of deep disgust.

"What is the meaning of this, Sophia?" Mrs. Vance demanded sharply, setting her shopping bags onto the hall table with a loud thud. "You disappear from the hospital without helping Clara with her luggage, and now you're standing there with a suitcase? What kind of ridiculous scene are you trying to create now?"

Clara looked at me, a subtle, triumphant smirk flashing across her eyes before she quickly wiped it away, putting on a worried, innocent expression.

"Sister Sophia..." Clara whimpered softly, reaching out her hand. "Are you still angry at Damien because he was with me in the delivery room? Please don't be mad at him. It was my fault... I was so scared during labor, and I asked him to stay..."

"Quiet, Clara," Mrs. Vance snapped, patting Clara's hand gently before turning her glaring eyes back to me. "You don't need to apologize to this ungrateful woman! Sophia, let me tell you clearly: Clara has just birthed two healthy sons for the Vance family! She is the greatest hero of our household! Meanwhile, you couldn't even keep a single baby in your belly for three months!"

The words were meant to stab me straight through the heart. They were meant to reduce me to tears, just as they always had in the past.

Mrs. Vance stood there with her chin held high, waiting for me to lower my head, burst into tears, and apologize.

Instead, I walked down the remaining stairs, my heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. I stopped right in front of Mrs. Vance and Clara, looking down at them with a look of cool, unbothered indifference.

"You're right, Mrs. Vance," I said, my voice smooth and icy cold. "Clara is indeed the greatest hero of your household. That's why I'm leaving, so the two of you can live together in perfect harmony."

I pulled out my key ring, unhooked the master keys to the Vance villa, and tossed them carelessly onto the marble table beside her shopping bags.

"What... what are you doing?" Mrs. Vance stammered, taken aback by my complete lack of tears.

"I'm divorcing Damien," I replied simply. "Enjoy your house. And enjoy each other."

Without waiting for another word, I grabbed my suitcase, brushed past them, and walked out the front door into the afternoon sun.