The 99th Chance I Gave You Chapter 04

The 99th Chance I Gave You Chapter 04

I ignored my phone vibrating over and over and turned it off.

From that moment on, my 5-year marriage with Nathaniel truly came to an end.

In the Mayfair hotel, after Nathaniel saw my messages, he started texting me frantically

“Divorce? Stop messing around. How could that many forgiveness vouchers be gone so fast?”

“Do you not like the gift I sent? I’ll pick another one.”

“Eleanor Hart, answer the phone. Let’s talk this through.”

“Why did you turn your phone off? Are you really angry?”

He refused to believe I would truly ignore him.

He called my number over and over, unwilling to give up.

After hearing the cold voicemail prompt for the 39th time, he finally began to panic.

“Impossible… impossible…”

“Everything was fine before I left…”

His mind began flashing back to the way I had mentioned the forgiveness vouchers.

So calm.

Calm enough to look like I had already given up.

Thinking of that, he quickly grabbed his clothes and pulled them on.

Sylvia wrapped her arms around Nathaniel’s neck and burrowed into his embrace like she was acting spoiled.

“Mr. Fenton, you promised you’d stay with me tonight…”

Nathaniel pushed her away anxiously. He didn’t even bother explaining before rushing out.

On the way back, he called me again and again.

But I didn’t answer once.

The moment he entered the house, he stepped on the broken glass because he was moving too fast.

The glass scraped against the floor, making a sharp, piercing sound.

Only then did Nathaniel notice what was under his feet.

Our wedding portrait.

The glass shards had cut the 2 people in the picture beyond recognition.

Just like our broken marriage.

He slowly crouched down and lifted the wedding portrait from the floor.

Then he carefully wiped away the glass pieces on top.

In the photo, our younger selves gazed at each other, smiling so sweetly.

Nathaniel’s eyes slowly reddened.

After putting the photo back in place, Nathaniel began searching the house for me.

When he saw the empty closet, he finally believed I had truly left.

He collapsed onto the living room floor, staring at the TV screen in front of him without moving for a long time.

On the TV, our old proposal video played on a loop.

It was the last piece of me left in that home.

He lowered his head, fingers digging deep into his hair, desperately trying to think where I might

have gone.

As his gaze swept across the living room, it suddenly stopped on the bin nearby.

That pile of pink scraps looked so familiar.

So familiar that he almost couldn’t breathe after just 1 glance.

He slowly crouched down, not caring that the frosting stains were dirtying his sleeves.

Piece by piece, he picked the scraps out of the bin.

Then, with extreme care, he put them back together one by one.

Not 1 more.

Not 1 less.

Exactly 99 forgiveness vouchers.

He remembered 5 years ago, when he had looked at those forgiveness vouchers and promised me with a serious face, “Eleanor Hart, don’t worry.”

“I won’t ever give you a chance to use them.”

Then he remembered what came after.

Again and again, he casually asked me to let him use a forgiveness voucher.

The love he had spent so many years earning had been wasted bit by bit in the 2 years after Sylvia

Hayes appeared.

Nathaniel had always been sensitive to numbers.

But whenever Sylvia was involved, it was as if he completely forgot what 99 meant.

Again and again, he used forgiveness vouchers to press down my disappointment.

Again and again, he used gifts to cover the debt he left behind.

But he had never thought he was the problem.

Every time he broke a promise, he bought me a gift afterward.

In his mind, what did I have to be unhappy about?

Thinking of that, his gaze landed on the living room display cabinet.

The next second, he froze again.

The entire display cabinet was filled with gifts he had given me.

But if he looked closely, he could see 3 identical jewelry sets right in the center.

The invoice date on 1 of them was yesterday.

His mind suddenly flashed to the Clypse shawl he had given Sylvia yesterday.

Just because he saw her dressed too lightly, he immediately had someone custom-order it from

Milan.

That same night, the shawl was delivered to her.

Whether in price or in the thought he put into it, it far surpassed the entire cabinet of jewelry in

front of him.

At that moment, he suddenly began to seriously wonder.

When had the one-of-a-kind things he gave me turned into repeated, cheap compensation?