Chapter 10

(Evelyn's POV )

I watched the seconds tick by on my watch. Julian stood between me and the door, and I could practically feel the desperation oozing from him.

"Five minutes," I repeated. "Talk."

He ran both hands through his hair, making it stand up in all directions. "I know I don't deserve forgiveness. I know I destroyed the best thing in my life. But Evelyn—" His voice cracked. "You're my wife. Seven years. That has to mean something."

"It did mean something." I kept my voice detached. "It meant everything until you decided Serena meant more."

"She doesn't. She never did. It was just—"

"Just what?" I tilted my head. "Convenient? Exciting? A way to feel young again?"

"I don't know!" He threw his hands up. "I don't know what I was thinking. I wasn't thinking. I was selfish and stupid and—"

"You're right. You were selfish." I shifted my grip on the suitcase handle. "Do you know what the worst part is?"

He shook his head, looking like a child waiting to be scolded.

"It's not that you cheated. It's that you let me believe I was crazy."

"What? No, I never—"

"Every time I questioned you, every time something felt wrong, you made me feel like I was paranoid and insecure." I paused, letting the next words hit him harder. "Damaged from losing the baby."

He flinched like I'd slapped him. Good.

"You gaslit me for eighteen months while sleeping with my best friend. You don't get to say you never meant to hurt me."

"I never wanted—"

"But you did hurt me. Over and over. Every lie. Every time you came home smelling like her perfume and told me I was imagining things. Every time you made me doubt my own instincts."

His eyes watered again but I don't care. "I'm sorry. God, Evelyn, I'm so sorry. I'll spend the rest of my life making this up to you—"

"I don't want the rest of your life, Julian." I glanced at my watch. "I don't want any part of you anymore."

"Please—"

"Five minutes are up."

I reached for the door handle again.

"No. Wait." Panic made his voice go high. "Please don't go. Please. I love you."

I turned back to look at him one last time. "You love the idea of me. The wife who waited at home. The woman who made you look good at company events. But you never loved ME, Julian. If you did, you wouldn't have been able to touch her."

I pulled the door open, but his hand shot out, grabbing mine. Not violently, but desperately. "If you walk out that door, you're making a mistake. We can survive this. Couples do it all the time."

I looked down at where his fingers wrapped around my wrist, then slowly met his eyes. "You're right. Some couples do survive infidelity."

I watched hope flickered across his face, then I crushed it. 

"But I'm not interested in surviving, Julian. I'm interested in living. And I can't do that with you."

I pulled my hand free and stepped into the hallway. He followed me out, watching as I loaded both suitcases into the elevator. The building was silent except for the hum of some appliances.

"Evelyn, please—"

The elevator doors started to close and I didn't stop them. His face was the last thing I saw before the doors shut completely.

The parking garage was empty at this hour. My car sat where I'd left it the last time. Thanks to Julian, I barely drove myself as he always insisted on driving me.

I loaded everything into the trunk, hands steady despite how shaky I was feeling on the inside. When I slid behind the wheel, I caught my reflection in the rearview mirror.

My makeup was ruined and my mascara smudged under my eyes. My hair had fallen out of its neat style and I looked like I'd been through a war.

The engine roared to life and I was driving out when I saw Julia bursting through the stairwell door into the garage. He must have run down all fifteen floors.

He stood in the middle of the parking garage, chest heaving, and shouted: "Where are you going?"

I stopped the car, rolled down the window just enough for my voice to be heard.

"Somewhere you'll never find me."

Then I drove away.

In my rearview mirror, I watched him get smaller and smaller until he disappeared completely. The gates of our building closed behind me, and just like that, I kissed the life I've lived for seven years goodbye.

The streets were empty at 2:30 in the morning. I drove without direction, just putting distance between myself and the apartment. Between myself and Julian. Between myself and the life I'd built on lies.

My phone rang and I didn't have to look to know it was him. I let it ring.

It rang again, and on the fourth call, I pulled over and blocked his number. The silence that followed felt like freedom.

I found myself driving toward the only hotel I could think of, a place downtown that I'd walked past a hundred times but never entered. The kind of place that didn't ask questions if you showed up at 3 AM with suitcases and ruined makeup.

The night clerk barely looked up as I checked in. "Name?"

I opened my mouth to say Evelyn Hart, then stopped.

That woman was gone, left behind in an apartment with a man who didn't deserve her.

"Lena," I said instead, the new name Mr. Creighton had mentioned feeling strange on my tongue. "Lena Blackwood."

The clerk handed me a key card. "Room 412. Elevator's to your left."

The room was small but clean, enough to serve me. I collapsed on the mattress without bothering to unpack. My phone buzzed on the nightstand again with a text from an unknown number.

“Please. Just tell me you're safe. That's all I need to know.”

He must have used a spare sim card from a burner phone or something.

I typed back: “I'm safe. Don't contact me again.”

Then I turned my phone completely off.

The silence that followed was deafening. I should have felt sad. Should have been crying into the hotel pillows like women did in movies. Instead, I felt nothing. Just empty and tired and ready for whatever came next.

My last thought before sleep pulled me under was that tomorrow, I'd call Mr. Creighton and tell him to speed up the process.

Evelyn Hart needed to disappear.

And I was more than ready to let her go.

***

Across town, Julian stumbled back into the apartment. The divorce papers were still scattered on the floor where he'd dropped them. Evelyn's wedding ring sat on the coffee table next to that damn charm bracelet, catching the light from the lamp she'd left on.

He collapsed onto the couch and pulled out his phone with shaking hands.

Serena's contact stared back at him. He should call her and tell her what happened.

His finger hovered over her name. What would he even say? That his wife found out? That she'd left him? That she had evidence, security footage, everything?

The phone rang four times before Serena answered, her voice thick with sleep. "Julian? It's three in the morning. What—"

"She left." The words came out strangled. "Evelyn is gone."

Silence stretched between them.

"She found out?" Serena's voice had lost all traces of sleep and was alert now.

"She knew. I don't know for how long, but she had evidence. Security footage from our home camera. She saw—" He couldn't finish the sentence.

"Oh God." Something moved on her end, like she was sitting up in bed. "What does this mean for us?"

Us?

Julian looked around the empty apartment. At the life Evelyn had walked away from. At the seven years he'd thrown away for what? For excitement? For ego?

He laughed, and it came out bitter and broken. "Us? There is no us, Serena. There never was."

"What are you talking about? Julian, we've been together for over a year—"

"You were a mistake." The words felt like needles in his throat, but they were true. God, they were so true. "The biggest mistake of my life."

"You don't mean that. You're upset, you're—"

He hung up.

The phone immediately started ringing again. Serena's name flashed on the screen over and over, but he declined the call.

On the fifth attempt, he blocked her number too.

Then he was alone with nothing but the sound of his own breathing and the realization of what he'd destroyed.

He'd had everything. A woman who loved him, who trusted him, who built a home with him. And he'd thrown it away for stolen moments and cheap thrills with someone who didn't matter.

Julian picked up Evelyn's wedding ring from the coffee table. The platinum was still warm, like she'd only just taken it off. He slipped it onto his pinky finger—the only finger it would fit, and let himself finally break down.