Chapter 2 The Woman He Chose

I dragged my exhausted body back to the apartment Lucian and I shared.

The lock beeped, and the heavy security door swung open.

A cloying wave of perfume rushed at me, so sweet it nearly made me gag. It wasn't mine.

By the entryway lay a pair of red stilettos, their sharp heels stabbing straight into my chest.

On the living room couch, black lace lingerie was tossed carelessly aside, next to a torn-open box.

Two wine glasses stood side by side on the bar counter, faint lipstick stains smudged along the rims.

The master bedroom door was left ajar, spilling a dim, suggestive glow into the hall.

With a sudden creak, it flung open.

Elara leaned against the frame, wearing nothing but Lucian's white shirt. The buttons hung loose, baring the smooth expanse of her skin.

Purple bruises marked her throat, impossible to ignore. Her hair was tousled, her eyes gleaming with smug triumph.

"Well, Ms. Lynelle. You're home." She dragged out the words in a singsong voice. "What a shame. Lucian just fell asleep."

My hands curled into fists. "Get out."

"Get out?" Elara's laugh was sharp, grating. "You're the one who should leave. This is Lucian's and my place now."

She stepped closer, her voice dropping low.

"Lucian said being in bed with you felt like holding a corpse—cold, stiff, lifeless. Nothing worth remembering."

Her lips curved as she twisted the knife deeper.

"He said it's my body that drives him wild, my voice that makes him lose control. When he held me, he told me he finally understood what it meant to be with a real woman."

From inside the bedroom, I heard Lucian stir.

A vicious gleam flashed in Elara's eyes. "Oh, that reminds me. He also said you're boring, that the only thing you can do is dance. You don't even know how to please a man. He's been sick of you for a long time."

My whole body shook.

Elara turned and dragged out a suitcase. My suitcase.

"Since Lucian doesn't want you anymore, stop clinging like dead weight."

She yanked the zipper open and dumped everything inside onto the floor.

My ballet shoes landed with a soft thud. She deliberately ground her heel into them, pressing down hard.

A sharp rip tore through the room.

My treasured choreography notes were shredded into scraps, fluttering down like snow. Photographs from performances, certificates of awards—she ripped them all apart in a frenzy.

My most intimate clothes were hurled about, scattered across every corner of the living room.

"Take your trash and get out! Don't you dare dirty the space Lucian and I share!" She seized my arm and shoved me toward the door with all her strength.

The door slammed shut in my face. The click of the lock echoed like a blade.

A home I had built for years had turned into someone else's nest overnight.

…

At the gate, the security guard gave me a long look, his eyes clouded with sympathy he didn't know how to express.

"Ms. Lynelle… what happened to you?"

"I'm fine."

I flagged down a cab. The driver studied me through the rearview mirror, taking in my disheveled state.

"Where to?"

I opened my mouth, but no words came. I didn't know where I belonged anymore.

"Just find me a hotel."

In a shabby inn, I curled up on the narrow bed and stared at the water stains on the ceiling.

My phone buzzed again and again, group messages from the company filling the screen.

'Did you hear? Astraea and Mr. Veris broke up?'

'I knew it. With her personality, no man would last.'

'Elara's so gentle. No wonder Mr. Veris chose her.'

I shut the phone off and closed my eyes.