Simon stood frozen, her words echoing in his ears. Goodbye.
He had heard that word a thousand times in his life—judges slamming gavels, family turning their backs, investors pulling out. But never from her.
His chest felt hollow, as if Audrey had ripped something straight out of him when she turned away. She didn't even look back. Not once.
Simon dragged a hand through his short hair, his jaw tightening. "Damn it, Audrey…" he muttered under his breath, his voice rough, nearly breaking.
She had been the only one who ever looked at him without suspicion, without judgment. Back then, when he was just her senior in university, she had smiled at him like he wasn't a Gillian, like he wasn't carrying the weight of a family name already poisoned by politics and greed.
And now she wanted to erase him—erase them—like he was part of the same filth that had broken her.
He slammed his fist against the wall, ignoring the sharp pain in his knuckles. Rage coursed through him, not at her, but at himself. At Jeremy. At the entire damn Gillian family that had left her no choice but to walk away.
"Marry me," he whispered again, almost to himself this time, but the words felt pathetic, hollow. He knew he had said it too late.
But Simon Gillian wasn't the kind of man who let go easily. Not when it came to Audrey.
He took a steadying breath, eyes narrowing. "If you think you can just disappear, Audrey… you're wrong. I'll find you."
And for the first time in years, Simon felt something like purpose burn in his veins. He wasn't going to let her slip away—not to Jeremy, not to anyone.
Audrey's POV
I followed the attendant past the boarding gate, my steps shaky but determined, until I was ushered straight into the private jet my mother had arranged. Sliding into the leather seat, I buckled myself in, but the weight in my chest didn't loosen.
The past came rushing back, sharp as glass.
"If you hadn't crawled into my bed that night when I was drunk and tricked me into sleeping with you, I never would've married you."
Jeremy's words—spat at me on our wedding night—still scraped raw against my heart. Three years ago, I had signed his contract with trembling hands.
"We'll go our separate ways after three years. I'll secure my place as the Gillian heir, and you'll walk away with enough money to seduce your next victim."
"Fine," I had said. Foolishly believing three years was enough to make him love me. To make him see me.
But sitting there now, staring at the sterile interior of the jet, I laughed bitterly at my own naïveté. I had thought love could be earned with sacrifice, loyalty, and silence. But Jeremy had been clear from the start. I had just refused to listen.
I remembered our last confrontation, his voice sharp with suspicion and arrogance. And my own voice, steady for the first time in years:
"I'm not playing anymore, Jeremy. No games. No schemes. I was wrong. I never should've forced myself into your life. I won't bother you again. You're free now."
Free.
The word pressed against my ribs like both a blessing and a wound. I had always believed that if I tried hard enough, he would care. That love would be inevitable. But all I'd really done was make a fool of myself.
Now, as the engines roared to life, I couldn't help but wonder—without me in his world, without me bending myself into pieces for him—would Jeremy Gillian feel even a flicker of regret?
The jet shuddered as it lifted off, and I pressed my head back against the seat. The city lights bled into a blur beneath me, fading until all I saw was darkness and the faint glow of the stars.
For the first time in years, I wasn't trapped behind the Gillian gates or suffocated by Jeremy's shadow. And yet, freedom felt heavier than the cage ever did.
My fingers curled against the armrest as memories spilled one after another. The girl I'd been when I married him—hopeful, stubborn, desperate to prove I belonged. The woman I'd become—tired, bruised in ways no one could see, carrying scars from every sharp word he'd thrown my way.
Three years wasted, I told myself. Three years believing if I swallowed enough pain, if I endured enough silence, he'd finally look at me and see more than the orphan he despised. But I couldn't even fool myself anymore.
"Forget everything, Audrey," I whispered under my breath. The sound of my own voice startled me, as if I had spoken a prayer.
Forget Jeremy's coldness. Forget Simon's half-promises. Forget the Gillians and their cruel games.
Ahead of me was nothing certain—just the unknown. But wasn't that better than clinging to a life built on humiliation?
I touched the ring still circling my finger. For a moment, I thought of slipping it off, leaving it behind on the tray table as if to bury every tie with him in this cabin. But my hand stilled. Not yet. Not until the ink on the divorce papers dried. Then I would strip it away and with it, the last trace of Jeremy Gillian.
The engines hummed, steady and relentless, and I let my eyes close. If regret ever touched him, it would come too late. This time, I wasn't turning back.