The room smelled like wealth.
Soft vanilla undertones in the linen, faint traces of imported red wine resting in a bottle beside the crystal glass, the clean stillness of a space untouched by struggle.
Chloe inhaled deeply, padding across the marble floors, sliding her fingers across the silk robe draped across the bed. This was luxury—the kind she had spent years ignoring, convincing herself it was unnecessary.
But tonight? She wasn't pretending.
She poured herself a glass, letting the deep red swirl in the crystal, settling into the oversized leather chair by the window, watching the skyline stretch endlessly into the dark.
Her phone buzzed.
She took a slow sip before glancing at the screen.
Unknown Number.
Her lips curled slightly.
Sophia.
The message sat there, bold, desperate.
"Kevin told me you were moving out today. Hope you're settling in. Took you long enough to figure it out, huh?"
Chloe blinked once.
Then—slowly—she smiled.
This wasn't just about Kevin.
This was about winning.
Sophia wanted a reaction, wanted proof that she had replaced Chloe, had taken her spot like it was some twisted, strategic game.
But Chloe? She felt nothing.
She typed back, slow, deliberate.
"Interesting. I had a feeling you weren't new—but an ex? That explains so much. You circled back, convinced yourself it was fate, just to end up with a man who couldn't even keep his marriage together. No wonder you're reaching out—I'd be insecure too."
Delivered.
Read.
Silence.
Chloe exhaled, stretching her legs, taking another sip of wine.
And just like that, she went back to celebrating herself—because she was done with small women and even smaller men.