Chapter 5

Yannick cut me off with a furious shout.

It was the first time I'd ever seen him lose his temper like that. And every bit of his anger was for Yvonne.

"Yvonne bends over backward for you, always putting your needs first. Just the other day, she went from store to store picking out dresses for you herself. And when you said you didn't like them, she spent the entire afternoon feeling hurt over all those dresses she'd so carefully chosen."

"She made one innocent mistake, and you just can't let it go? You have to throw a tantrum and rub salt in her wounds?"

"Yvonne has poured her heart and soul into this company and this family. And what about you? What have you ever done for her? All you ever do is cause her trouble and embarrass her. What else can you do?"

"You're both Quinns. How can you two be so different?"

The moment the words left his mouth, the room fell silent.

Yvonne was the first to react. She tugged at Yannick's sleeve. "Yannick! What are you saying?"

Yannick seemed to come to his senses, the anger fading from his face as a rare hint of panic crept in. "I'm sorry. I went too far..." he said hastily.

Tears welled in my eyes. I sniffled softly and asked, "What more could I have done? Wasn't risking my life for her enough?"

Back when Yvonne had just taken over the company, she'd been kidnapped by business rivals because she'd trusted the wrong people. They strapped a bomb to her and threatened to blow them both up unless she withdrew her bid for a project.

When everyone else was at a loss, I stepped forward and offered to take her place as the hostage, buying the rescue team precious time.

But even when the police arrived and subdued the kidnappers, the bomb's countdown kept ticking.

The explosion left horrific, disfiguring scars across my back.

I'd always loved dressing up, but after that, I could never wear the backless dresses I loved again.

Back then, everyone at the company was celebrating Yvonne's safe return. Almost no one cared about what I'd sacrificed.

Only Yannick noticed how dejected I was.

"How can you say no one cares? I care."

"Nico, I saw everything you did. I know that Yvonne owes her life to you."

He lowered his head, his breath softly brushing the crown of my head as he murmured, "Don't worry about what other people think. It doesn't matter whether they know what you did. I know, and that's what matters, okay?"

In that moment, he understood my pain and gave my heart a place to rest.

Now, the face I remembered and the hysterical one before me blurred together. I felt so sick I thought I might throw up.

I didn't want to argue with them anymore. Every second I wasted could mean losing my chance to find the necklace.

I slammed my foot on the gas and sped straight to the dump.

I didn't care how undignified I looked. I crouched beside the foul-smelling heap of garbage and dug through the rotting trash with my bare hands. Sharp scraps sliced into my fingertips, but I barely noticed the pain.

Still, I couldn't find it.

As the sun rose, an overwhelming sense of helplessness washed over me.

The golden light on the horizon stung my eyes. I bit my lip to hold back my tears, forcing myself not to break down.

Just as I was growing numb, a pair of long, slender hands reached out and began searching alongside mine.

It was Yannick.

He stayed by my side, digging through the garbage with me until dawn. Despite his severe aversion to dirt, he didn't care that his hands were caked in grime or that he reeked of garbage. He held out my necklace, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.

But when he spoke, all he said was, "We found your necklace. Now, can you stop blaming Yvonne, please?"

In that moment, my throat tightened. A thousand words caught in my throat, but in the end, only two short sentences escaped. My voice trembled as I whispered, "Yannick, I'm tired. Let's get a divorce."

Whatever love and resentment remained between us no longer mattered. I just wanted to set him free and set myself free, too.

Yannick didn't look surprised in the slightest. He merely let out a weary sigh.

"I'm tired, too. So can you please stop making a scene?"

There it was again.

Time and time again, he dismissed my genuine pain as nothing more than a childish attempt to get his attention.

This time, I didn't say another word. I turned and walked away. No matter how many times he called after me, I never looked back.

That night, I packed up my belongings and moved into the guest room.