Chapter 6

Richard and Catherine exchanged glances, and to Zoe's disbelief, both seemed to be seriously considering Zadie's suggestion.

It felt like another knife had been driven into her already bleeding heart.

She'd endured more than a hundred blows without getting her parents to budge. Yet a few casual words from Zadie had accomplished what all her suffering couldn't.

Zadie turned to her sister, her eyes clear and innocent, though a faint trace of ambition lurked beneath her gentle tone.

"Maybe Zoe just couldn't win Ian's heart. Things might be different if it were me... Once they're divorced, I'll do my best to make Ian notice me."

A heavy silence settled over the room.

After a while, Richard let out a sigh. "Fine! If you're so determined to get divorced, we won't stand in your way anymore. We'll speak to the Grant family and discuss the arrangements."

He waved for the servants to untie Zoe. "Go home and wait to hear from us. You've upset us enough for one day!"

Zoe stared at the sudden reversal, struck by how utterly absurd it was.

She struggled to her feet, her battered body trembling with pain. As she looked from her parents to her sister, a bitter, mocking smile spread across her face. There was nothing left in her eyes but contempt and the emptiness of a heart that had finally given up.

"Don't worry. I won't be coming back here, either."

Richard and Catherine froze.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Richard demanded angrily.

"Exactly what I said." Zoe straightened her aching back, though it felt as if her spine might snap at any moment. Her voice was painfully clear as she continued, "I can live without a husband. And I can live without parents or a sister, too.

"Getting this divorce was the last thing I'll need from any of you.

"From now on, just pretend Zoe Jameson is dead."

Without another glance at any of them, she turned and walked away, dragging her bloodied, battered body toward the door, one agonizing step at a time.

Clinging to the last of her strength, Zoe somehow managed to drive herself to the hospital.

After having her injuries treated, she spent the next several days drifting in and out of a daze in her hospital bed.

It wasn't until the day she was discharged that Ian finally called.

"There's a business reception tonight. I need you to accompany me."

Zoe was about to refuse when Ian spoke again, as though he'd anticipated her response.

"You need to be there. There's something I want to talk to you about."

She gripped her phone, remaining silent for several seconds before a cold smile tugged at her lips.

"Fine."

She was curious to hear what he could possibly have left to say.

The reception was being held in the ballroom of an exclusive luxury hotel, where elegantly dressed guests mingled over drinks beneath glittering chandeliers.

Zoe arrived in a stunning sapphire-blue evening gown with an open back and a sweeping train. Her makeup was flawless, accentuating her already striking beauty.

The moment she entered, appreciative glances followed her from every direction.

She was so accustomed to male attention that she barely noticed.

Then, without warning, a suit jacket carrying the crisp scent of cedar settled over her bare shoulders.

Ian had appeared beside her.

"You've never liked formal dresses or heels. What's different about tonight?"

He looked at her calmly. "I've told you before, you don't have to change who you are when you're with me. You could show up in pajamas and slippers, and no one would dare say a word."

Zoe stiffened.

Those words instantly took her back to their first meeting, to the private lounge where he'd knelt before her and replaced her uncomfortable heels with slippers.

Back then, that simple gesture had made her heart race.

Now, the memory felt like a cruel joke.

She shrugged off his expensive jacket, letting it fall to the floor, then lifted her chin with a smile that was equal parts defiance and bitter self-mockery.

"You jest, Mr. Grant. With a body like mine, why would I hide it under pajamas?"

She glanced toward the men watching her.

"See how they're staring? They can barely take their eyes off me. Consider it my good deed for the day. I'm just giving them something nice to look at."

Most husbands would have been consumed by jealousy if their wives said something like that in public.

But Ian's expression didn't change.

He simply bent down, picked up his jacket, and draped it over his arm.

Then, without the slightest reaction to her provocation, he abruptly changed the subject.

"Did you send your father to my family today to discuss our divorce?"