The moment I held the divorce certificate in my hand, a wave of relief washed over me.
I felt lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
Without sparing a glance at Hank’s ashen face, I strode out of the courthouse, my steps brisk and full of purpose.
Just as I neared the exit, I felt a tug on my wrist. Turning around, I saw him–disheveled, his eyes rimmed with red, looking at me with a pitiful expression of desperation.
“Pearl… give me one more chance, please,” he pleaded, his voice trembling with hope. “I can make things right, I swear. Just trust me.”
I shook his hand off with a smirk, my voice cold and sharp. Hank, what are you talking about? We’re divorced now. There are no more chances.”
He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but I had no interest in hearing him out.
True to my word, I left the company in his hands, then packed my bags and headed for Xenthos–the place I had once dreamed of us spending our honeymoon.
I had imagined countless times what it would be like to come to this city with him, driving through the streets together.
But now that I was here alone, I realized I didn’t need anyone to enjoy it.
I explored new places, embraced different cultures, and indulged in local delicacies. The journey turned out to be everything I had hoped for, and more.
Two months later, I returned. By then, Hank’s company had crumbled under the weight of scandal and mismanagement, and he had declared bankruptcy.
Just as I had planned, I swooped in to buy it back at a fraction of its value. This way, someone else bore the brunt of the public backlash, and I was able to reclaim the company at a bargain.
When I next saw Hank, it was in the CEO’s office–the very office that had once been his. But this time, I walked in not as an employee, but as the new owner.
“Hank, long time no see,” I greeted him with a casual smile.
