He Gave Me a Divorce, I Gave Him Ruin Chapter 02

He Gave Me a Divorce, I Gave Him Ruin Chapter 02

After that fight, Ethan stopped pretending.

And I made one last, catastrophic mistake.

I thought our prenuptial agreement and the Sterling family name could still hold him in check. I sent him a photo of our marriage certificate, along with several old Vanity Fair features that had dubbed us a “model couple.”

The subject line was a single sentence:

“Image management, Ethan. It’s your job.”

I thought it would remind him of the foundation of our marriage, and that the trust committee was always watching.

I was wrong.

His retaliation was swift and precise, aimed directly at the one thing I cared about most.

When the call came that my father was critically ill, I was packing to fly to Boston. Just then, Ethan called, his tone unnervingly calm.

“I rebooked your flight. First class, direct. Don’t worry, Amelia. You’ll make it.”

He gave me a new flight number and departure time.

And I believed him.

I waited in the VIP lounge at JFK for three hours. When I couldn’t find the flight on any of the departure screens, I finally realized something was wrong.

I rushed to the counter, where the agent told me that flight had never existed.

My hands were shaking so hard I could barely dial Ethan’s number.

Through the phone, I could hear the sound of waves and a woman’s laughter.

Chloe.

“Ethan! The flight information you gave me was fake! Why?!”

I was practically screaming. People around me turned to look.

The line went quiet for a few seconds. Then came Ethan’s flat voice, edged with annoyance at being interrupted.

“Chloe had a little situation in Miami. She needed me. Amelia, don’t be so dramatic. Your father has the best doctors. He’ll be fine.”

“He’s dying, Ethan! He wants to see me one last time!”

My voice cracked, and tears streamed down my face.

“Then he can wait,” he said softly. “First, go on social media and post a statement apologizing to Chloe. Say you were jealous. Say you made it all up. Once I see you’re sincere, I’ll have my assistant book you the next flight.”

In that instant, the last thread of hope inside me snapped.

But to see my father, I did it anyway.

Numb, I logged into an account I hadn’t touched in ages and posted the humiliating update.

“I was blinded by jealousy and said things I shouldn’t have. I apologize for the harm I caused Chloe.”

To this day, the comments Chloe’s fans left under that post are still there.

“Apologizing now? Too late. Tried to get famous by tearing Chloe down and it backfired, huh?”

“And she called herself the victim? She should take a look in the mirror.”

“Her father is seriously ill? Who knows if that’s even true. She’s getting exactly what she deserves.”

During that time, I was an empty shell, keeping vigil by my father’s bedside, avoiding the internet, avoiding all noise. I barely slept. I was frighteningly pale and had lost too much weight.

Maybe I looked too haggard.

When my father briefly woke from his coma, even he could tell something was wrong.

He took my hand with his own, which was nothing but bone by then. His cloudy eyes filled with a deep, aching sadness. Haltingly, he brought up the early days, when Ethan and I were just kids.

“Back then… Ethan was such a good boy…”

He meant in college.

Back then, Ethan was just the black sheep of a wealthy family. Aside from his last name, he had almost nothing. To protect me once, he’d taken a beating from a couple of muggers, getting two ribs broken but never letting them get near me.

My father had always admired that version of Ethan. Even after we were married, he’d secretly invested in a failed startup of Ethan’s, just to help him out.

But my father didn’t know that all that old kindness had amounted to nothing.

He didn’t know what his daughter had just been through.

Looking at my father’s weakening face, all I could think was that at least I still had him. At least I hadn’t lost everything.

But fate wouldn’t even grant me that.

The hospital called to say my father’s condition had suddenly worsened. I flew out of the ward and sprinted toward the emergency center.

But a crowd at the hospital entrance blocked my way.

Chloe’s fans, and the gossip reporters who’d gotten the tip. Somehow, they had found out which hospital my father was in.

“Amelia Vance! What do you have to say about slandering Chloe?”

“You vicious woman! How dare you show your face?”

“We heard your father is dying. Is this your karma?”

Camera flashes exploded in front of my eyes. Microphones were thrust in my face. I tried desperately to push through, repeating, “Please, let me pass. My father is waiting for me!”

No one listened.

They formed a wall around me.

In the chaos, someone shoved me hard.

“Apologize to Chloe!”

I stumbled and fell, my knee slamming hard against the pavement. The pain was a dull, distant throb.

A wave of laughter rippled through the crowd.

At that moment, a strange quiet fell over me.

I lifted my head and looked at their faces. Excited. Contemptuous. Eager for a spectacle.

The last of my fight drained away.

I stopped struggling.

In front of all the cameras, I opened my mouth, a puppet whose strings had been cut.

My voice was hollow and flat.

“I’m sorry… I was wrong.”

“I was stupid. I mistook a transaction for a partnership.”

“And I failed my father. This is all my fault.”