He Brought His Mistress, I Brought My Lawyers Chapter 11

He Brought His Mistress, I Brought My Lawyers Chapter 11

The hospital room fell silent.

Ethan stood frozen with the silk dress in his hands, the color draining from his face. His assistant and the sales associates lowered their heads, wishing they could disappear.

Avery looked away, no longer interested.

Just then, Ethan’s phone rang, the sharp sound cutting through the suffocating silence.

He glanced at the caller ID, his brow tight, but answered.

“Ethan…” Sloane’s tearful, delicate voice came through the line, every word a hook. “This room is so big, so empty… I’m alone… I’m scared…”

Avery heard it all.

Ethan immediately lowered his voice and turned his back, his tone a gentleness Avery had never heard before.

“Don’t be scared, Sloane. I’m coming right now.”

After hanging up, he turned back to Avery. His lips moved, but no words came out. His handsome face was a mask of embarrassment and shame.

“Go,” Avery said, slowly closing her eyes, her voice laced with an exhaustion so deep it felt like a string about to snap. “Don’t keep her waiting.”

Ethan opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end, he chose to flee. He turned and nearly ran from the room.

The door clicked shut.

The moment it did, Avery opened her eyes.

There was no emotion left in them. She picked up the phone beside her pillow. The screen lit up with several unread messages.

From her grandfather, Charles:

*The lawyers have prepared all documents. The Ward family’s lawyers have been notified. We only need your signature to begin the termination process.*

From the Caldwell family security consultant:

*Sloane Pike’s background verified. Her father was a longtime driver for the Ward family, died of a heart attack one month ago. Sloane has a history of fraud and emotional blackmail involving small trusts. Should I send the detailed report to your lawyer?*

Avery’s fingers flew across the screen.

To the security consultant:

*Send it directly to my lawyer.*

To her grandfather:

*Grandfather, wait for me outside the Ward mansion in one hour.*

She pressed the call button. Under the nurse’s startled gaze, she firmly requested her discharge papers in a tone that brooked no argument.

Outside the hospital, the cold air cleared her head. She didn’t go home. She went straight to the Beacon Hill penthouse she owned with Ethan.

When she opened the door, everything was exactly as she had left it.

She walked upstairs, opened the dressing room, and quickly packed her things: a few sets of clothes, the jewelry her mother had left her, and her design sketches. As for the expensive gifts from Ethan—the walls of Birkins, the haute couture gowns, the precious jewels—she didn’t touch a single one.

On her way downstairs, she passed the study. Her gaze fell on the silver photo frame on the desk.

It was a photo from last summer on the Newport cliff walk. The sunset was molten gold, the sea wind lifting her hair as she leaned happily against Ethan’s shoulder.

Avery walked over, picked up the frame, and expertly opened the back. She took out the photograph.

Then she tore it in half.

The half with Ethan was tossed into the shredder. Her own half, she folded carefully and placed deep inside her handbag. The Newport cliffs were clearly visible in the background. It could serve as evidence.

At the entryway, she looked back one last time at the place she had once called home.

Then she took out her phone and called a high-end art handling company.

“The address is the Beacon Hill penthouse. All personal items under the name Avery Caldwell—paintings, sculptures, books—are to be packed and anonymously donated to the Rhode Island School of Design.”

After that, she sent a message to a friend in Paris.

*Do me a favor. Go to the Pont des Arts and find the lock engraved “E&A.” Cut it off.*

When all of that was done, she took a deep breath, grabbed her suitcase, and walked out the door without looking back.