006

Noya’s POV

I returned to the apartment three hours later.

The lock turned under my key without resistance. Inside, the lights were on. Ethan’s shoes were by the door. His jacket was thrown over the back of the couch.

He had been waiting.

He stood the moment I entered, phone still in his hand. The red mark on his cheek had faded, but the anger in his eyes had not.

“You blocked me,” he said.

“I did.”

“You blocked Lily too.”

“Yes.”

He dragged a hand through his hair, the gesture sharp with frustration. “Do you have any idea how crazy you’re acting? You slap me, demand a divorce, empty accounts, and then disappear for half the day? People are going to think you’ve lost your mind.”

I closed the door behind me and set my bag down.

“Let them.”

Ethan stared at me like he was trying to find the version of me he recognized. When he couldn’t, his voice hardened.

“I called my lawyer.”

“Good,” I said. “I called mine too.”

That stopped him for half a second.

“You’re actually doing this.” It wasn’t a question anymore. “You’re really going to throw away seven years over one argument.”

“It wasn’t one argument.”

“Then what was it?” He stepped closer. “Because from where I’m standing, my wife woke up one morning and decided to destroy everything we built. No warning. No discussion. Just a slap and a locked door.”

I looked at him.

At the man who had once been the center of my world. At the same face that had watched me die.

“You want a reason?” I asked quietly. “Fine. I stopped loving the version of myself that needed you. That’s the reason.”

Color rose in his neck. “You’re talking nonsense.”

“Am I?”

He exhaled hard through his nose and turned away, pacing once across the living room before facing me again. “My mother is coming over this evening. She wants to talk to you. She thinks you’re having some kind of episode.”

Of course she did.

Ethan’s mother had never liked me much. She had always preferred the idea of a daughter-in-law who stayed quiet and grateful. Lily had fit that image better than I ever had.

“I’m not speaking to your mother,” I said.

“You don’t have a choice.”

I tilted my head. “That is where you’re wrong.”

Something dangerous flickered across his face. The look of a man who was used to being obeyed and had just realized the habit no longer worked.

He closed the distance between us in three long steps. Not enough to touch me—he remembered the warning from this morning—but close enough that I could see the muscle jumping in his jaw.

“You seem to think you hold all the cards right now,” he said, voice low. “You don’t. This apartment is in both our names. The cars. The investments. You walk away, and I will make sure you leave with as little as possible. Do you understand me?”

There it was.

The real him. Not the worried husband. Not the confused partner. The man who calculated value and ownership the moment he felt control slipping.

I met his eyes and let the silence stretch until it became uncomfortable.

Then I smiled, small and cold.

“I was hoping you would say that.”

Ethan frowned. “What?”

“I want you to fight for every cent,” I said. “I want you to believe you’re winning while you do it. I want you so focused on taking from me that you never notice what I’m actually removing from your life.”

His expression tightened. “You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?”

I walked past him toward the bedroom. He didn’t try to stop me this time. He only watched, like he was trying to decide whether I had become unstable or something worse.

At the doorway I paused and looked back.

“Your mother can come,” I said. “She can sit on that couch and tell me I’m ungrateful. She can remind me how lucky I was to marry her son. I’ll even let her finish.”

I held his gaze.

“But when she’s done talking, I’m still leaving. And there is nothing either of you can do to stop it.”

I closed the bedroom door and locked it.

On the other side, Ethan stayed silent for a long time.

Then I heard him pick up his phone and dial.

“Mom,” he said, voice tight. “You need to come now. She’s worse than I thought.”

I sat on the edge of the bed and opened my storage space.

The documents I had stored earlier floated into view. Marriage certificate. Bank papers. Insurance.

I added the new account confirmation and the lottery numbers I had written down on a small slip of paper.

The system pulsed.

[Financial foundation: 53% complete.]
[Warning: External interference detected.]
[Recommendation: Maintain emotional distance. Do not engage in prolonged confrontation.]

I already knew.

Let them come.

Let them talk.

Let them believe I was still the woman they could pressure into staying.

By the time they realized the truth, I would already be gone.