I’ll Marry His Rival and Burn His Empire to Ash Chapter 10

I’ll Marry His Rival and Burn His Empire to Ash Chapter 10

Jackson ignored Savannah-Claire completely. Like an enraged bull, he slammed open the door and charged out, leaving a room full of shock and embarrassment in his wake.

“Jack!” Savannah-Claire chased after him, her heels clicking sharply on the floor. “You can’t just leave like this! Are you abandoning me here because of her?”

Her voice was swallowed by the elevator chime at the end of the hall. Jackson was gone. Left behind at her own birthday party, Savannah-Claire shook with rage, her nails digging into her palms.

She would wait. She refused to believe Ava Monroe, a woman with nothing left, could still cause any real trouble.

The roar of the sports car tore through Charleston’s quiet night. Jackson floored the accelerator, the oaks and Spanish moss outside blurring into streaks of light.

Divorce? Marriage? To Ethan Blackwood?

The words hit him like a series of slaps. He couldn’t understand it, much less accept it. How dared she? How could she? Without his permission, she couldn’t even dream of shedding the Devereaux name.

This had to be her revenge. A carefully planned farce to punish him for Chloe, for ignoring her.

As soon as he got back to the estate, he would grab her, hold her, and everything would go back to normal. She was just throwing a tantrum.

With that conviction, he slammed on the brakes, the tires screeching across the gravel drive.

The main house was brightly lit, as always.

He kicked open the car door and strode into the living room, his roar echoing through the empty hall.

“Ava!”

No one answered.

The house was terrifyingly quiet. Jackson’s fury faltered, and a strange panic began to crawl up his throat.

He looked around. The fireplace was lit. The expensive Persian rug was still on the floor. Everything seemed the same.

But no. Something was wrong.

On the living room sofa, the velvet cushions embroidered with magnolias that Ava had chosen were gone. In their place were several old cushions bearing the Devereaux family crest, stiff and cold.

He rushed into the morning room. The silver tea set Ava had ordered from Europe was gone. The pour-over coffee maker she loved was gone.

His heart sank. He staggered toward the tack room. Ava’s custom riding gear, including the helmet she had worn when she won her first competition, was gone. Only his own equipment hung there, alone.

“Butler!” He spun around and roared at the old butler who had hurried over. “Where is she? Where did all of her things go?”

The butler bowed slightly, his expression so calm it was almost cruel.

“Sir, the madam no longer lives here.”

“Her things!”

“Some were thrown away by the madam herself. Some she took with her.” The butler paused, then added, “After you locked her in the stable, the madam began clearing out her belongings.”

Jackson’s breath caught in his throat.

As if he didn’t see Jackson’s expression, the butler continued in the same even tone. “It began with the cushions and vases. Then her jewelry. She said there was no use keeping it, so she donated it all anonymously. Later, it was the first-edition books in the study that she treasured most.”

“When was the last time she came back?” Jackson’s voice was dry, as if scraped by sandpaper.

“Half a month ago, sir.”

Half a month… He hadn’t even realized she was gone.

Jackson felt the world spin. He had to brace himself against the doorframe to stay upright. He saw a flash of what looked like pity in the butler’s eyes, and it humiliated him even more.

The butler looked at him and, gently and without emotion, delivered the final blow.

“Sir, you have rarely come home yourself lately, so perhaps you did not notice.”