Chapter 4

CYRUS’ POV

“CEO of Hale Enterprises, Marcus Hale, Loses Everything.”

I had imagined this moment many times—how it would feel, how my chest would tighten, and how satisfaction would bloom deep inside me. Instead, what I felt was a sharp pang of pain in my chest.

But it won’t hold me down.

My steps quickened as I glided down the stairs, my pulse racing.

“Maxwell, hurry,” I said into the phone, ending the call before he could reply.

“Mr. Carter, why are you in such a rush?!” Elizabeth, the senior maid, ran after me, almost breathless as she struggled to keep up.

“The time has come.” I said calmly. “That’s why.”

She raised an eyebrow. “The time for what?”

“For something long overdue.” My smile sharpened. “Revenge is best served when cold.”

“What revenge?” She asked, confusion clouding her face.

“One I have been patient with,” I responded. “And it begins right now. I’m heading to New York.”

Her eyes widened. “You can’t be serious. Who will run the company here?”

The evening breeze slipped through the open windows, lifting her hair and brushing against my skin. For a brief second, I thought of Boston, its quiet nights, and how far I had come.

“I’ll take care of it.”

I had barely finished speaking when the 2025 Audi Q5 zoomed into the compound.

Immediately it came to a stop, I slid into the car and shut the door behind me with finality. I took a moment to stare back at my house. I really can’t believe I’m leaving all these behind to avenge myself.

“Drive,” I told Maxwell. “As fast as you can.”

Arriving at the airport, I made one last call. “Make the necessary arrangements,” I said. “I want everything ready before I touch down in New York.”

I ended the call and exhaled slowly. Then I headed towards the terminal before boarding the plane. As I took my seat, I looked out the window, fresh memories of the night everything got ruined crawling back into my mind.

For the past year, I had been in Boston, building my hedge fund from scratch. Sleepless nights, sharp decisions made with tired eyes, and endless meetings that I had never attended in my life.

It was the money Marcus gave me I turned into power, into a life I controlled. I am not the same boy who left that mansion broken and used.

In the span of one year, every single day I lived through it, I never forgot what Marcus did to me—How I stared at the divorce papers with trembling hands.

The burden of our past relationship and divorce still followed me, even in Boston. People’s eyes feed on me. I couldn’t even afford to move on. Not because I didn’t want to, but because something in me stayed closed.

Marcus spent his time with Julian, posing all over the media, smiling into cameras, attending conferences like nothing ever happened. Even in matching outfits!

Not once did he ever try to make a phone call to me.

The flight was as smooth as I wanted it to be. I barely noticed the hours pass. When I landed, two black SUV’s with three men standing beside waited patiently for me.

“Head straight to Hale's Villa.”

I drummed my fingers against my laps as I kept my eyes on the familiar road to Marcus’ home—where I stormed off a year ago promising I’d make him pay.

I slowly whined down the backseat’s window. The cold night air rushed in and swept past my face.

The gates of the villa finally came into view.

They were open. I could hear noises coming from the compound.

Perfect timing.

I stepped out of the car just as a man in battered clothes was shoved through the gates. He stumbled forward, nearly losing his balance. Three men followed behind him, along with two policemen.

The man dropped to his knees, hands folded tightly together. “Please— That’s all I have left.”

The familiar voice rang in my head like a church’s bell. My breath caught. My knees weakened.

“M-Marcus?” The name left my lips before I could stop it.

The policemen locked the main gate with a loud clang and turned away, walking off with the others as if nothing of value had just been discarded.

I stood frozen, staring.

The media really meant it when they said he lost everything. Like, he has nothing.

And who were those men?

Also, where was Vivian—his evil mother—when her son was being thrown out like trash?

I stepped closer and that was when his face came into full view—He looked pale. His cheeks were hollow, even his eyes were ringed with exhaustion. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He looked darker and malnourished.

He was wearing whatever he could find, clothes hanging loosely on him as if they were swallowing him whole. He looked smaller, defeated.

And for a split second—just one—I hated how my heart reacted before my mind could catch up.

My chest tightened.

Why does he look like this?

Why does he look like he just escaped from prison when barely weeks ago, he was still appearing on television with Julian?

Marcus turned slowly, as if sensing me before seeing me. When his eyes met mine, time stalled. Even the wind seemed to retreat, leaving only the space between us.

The moments we spent together—brushing, smiling, working, preparing food. They all flashed before my eyes making my body reel with the kind of feelings I haven’t felt in a long time.

Heat curled low in my stomach.

I stepped closer, my heels clicking lightly against the pavement. He raised his head, eyes searching, until they met mine. Recognition flashed in them, but so did disbelief.

“Cy- Cyrus?” His fragile voice shook. His knees bucked slightly and for a terrifying moment, I thought he might fall.

“It’s been a long time, ex-husband.” I said.

Then he forced himself upright, his eyes still glued on mine. My heart betrayed me, beating faster as he struggled to get on his feet. I looked away. Just briefly. And shut my eyes.

“You’re back,” he said.

“Of course.” I turned back to face him. “I had to come back to make you pay. And it’s quite a bit sad that we’re standing exactly where everything ended a year ago.”

A forced smile played on his lips, aging him even more. “I— I’m sorry.” He moved closer, close enough for me to feel his warmth I knew too well.

I stepped back.

The movement startled him. He lost balance and dropped to the ground. Panic flashed in his eyes as he reached forward, hands grasping blindly until they caught my shoes.

Something sharp twisted in my chest before I pressed my heel down on his fingers.

The cry he let out sliced through the night. It shouldn’t have pleased me but it did, in a dark, hollow way.

“That,” I said calmly, “is for betraying me.”

I lifted my foot and stepped on him again, harder this time. “And that’s for choosing another lame man over me.”

His hands slipped free, already red with bruises. He stared up at me, pain and disbelief tangled together.

“How can you be so cruel?” he whispered.

Cruel.

I scoffed, folding my arms across my chest, clinging to the posture because it kept me upright. “From now on, you’ll only find out how cruel I can be.”

“Please,” he begged, voice cracking. “I know I’ve wronged you… but don’t join them, Cyrus.”

“By the time I’m done with you,” I said, every word sharpened by hurt, “you’ll regret ever choosing your boyfriend over me.”

I slid my hands into my pockets, turning toward the car, because if I didn’t move, if I stayed one second longer, I might do something unforgivable.

“I’m already destroyed,” he said behind me. “What can you take away from me?”

I stopped.

Slowly, I looked back.