---- Chapter 5 Amelia' s defiance, her cool assertion of freedom, had planted a seed of unease in Ethan. He' d expected tears, pleas, the familiar emotional storm. Her calm pronouncements about the divorce, her genuine smile as she anticipated being free of him - it was unsettling. He dismissed it as another, more elaborate, manipulative tactic, but the thought nagged at him. She was usually so predictable in her hysterics. This new composure was... off. His phone rang, Jessica' s name flashing on the screen. "Ethan, darling, are you still with... her?" Jessica's voice was a sweet, cloying purr. "| need you. | saw the most divine diamond bracelet today, and | simply must have your opinion." The familiar pull of Jessica' s demands, her manufactured needs, easily drew his attention. He glanced back at Amelia, who was already gathering her few belongings, her expression serene. "Coming, Jess," he said into the phone, his voice softening. He left Amelia to her "tidying up," the image of her strange smile lingering uncomfortably in his mind. ---- Amelia, wrist bandaged and throbbing, left the Caldwell mansion without a backward glance. Sarah and Ben were waiting, their faces a mixture of fury and concern. "That bastard!" Sarah fumed. "And that witch Jessica! | hope you sue them for everything they've got!" Ben, more practical, helped Amelia into the car. "Hospital first. Then we talk to your lawyer." In the emergency room, the doctor confirmed a fractured wrist. As they set the cast, Amelia felt a strange sense of detachment. The physical pain was a dull ache compared to the years of emotional agony. "You have to divorce him, Amelia," Sarah pleaded, her eyes filled with tears. "You can't keep letting him do this to you." Ben nodded. "She's right. This is... this is assault. He's dangerous." Amelia looked at her friends, their genuine care a balm to her bruised spirit. "The divorce papers are already signed," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "The waiting period is almost over. Soon, I'll be free." ---- A small, genuine smile touched her lips. A wave of relief washed over Sarah and Ben. "Thank God!" Sarah exclaimed, hugging Amelia carefully. "We can throw a 'Finally Free' party! No, a 'Good Riddance to Bad Rubbish' gala!" Ben chimed in, "We'll invite all your real friends. We can burn an effigy of Ethan!" Amelia laughed, a real, heartfelt laugh, despite the pain in her wrist. "Maybe not an effigy, Ben. But a party sounds nice." Their playful suggestions, their enthusiastic support, warmed her. The future, once a terrifying void, now held a glimmer of possibility. The door to the hospital room swung open, and Ethan strode in, his face a mask of cold fury. Jessica was not with him this time. He surveyed the scene: Amelia in a hospital gown, her arm in a fresh cast, her friends flanking her like protective sentinels. His lip curled in a sneer. "A 'Good Riddance' gala? How utterly pathetic. Still clinging to your little band of misfits, Amelia?" His judgmental tone, his arrogance, it was all so predictable. The brief warmth Amelia had felt vanished, replaced by a weary resignation. ---- Amelia met his gaze, her own cool and steady. "My friends are loyal and kind, Ethan. Something you wouldn't understand." She gestured to her cast. "And this? This is on you. Your 'darling' Jessica and her charming friends." Her voice was devoid of accusation, a simple statement of fact. This seemed to unnerve him more than any shouting would have. Ethan scoffed. "Don't be so dramatic. It was an accident. Jessica was upset. You provoked her." He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a menacing purr. "You think this little stunt will make me want you back? Make me feel sorry for you?" He actually believed she' d orchestrated this, broken her own wrist, for his attention. "You know, Amelia, once the divorce is final, you can have all the 'Good Riddance' parties you want. But don't think for a second you can tarnish my reputation or Jessica's. I'll crush you. His threat hung in the air. Amelia' s smile was serene. "Crush me, Ethan? You already have, many times. Or you tried." ---- She leaned back against the pillows, her eyes never leaving his. "As for tarnishing your reputation... | think you and Jessica do a fine job of that all on your own." She picked up the separation agreement from the bedside table, which her lawyer had couriered over for a final review of a minor clause. "The waiting period is three months, Ethan. That's ninety days. Then I' m free. ' m counting every single one." Ethan stared at the document in her hand, then at her calm, almost cheerful face. He snatched the agreement, his eyes blazing. "You think this is a game?" He threw it back on the bed. "Fine. Ninety days. And then you're out of my life for good. Don't expect a penny more than what's in this agreement, Amelia. You'll get nothing else from me. He turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Sarah let out a shaky breath. "He's... unhinged." Amelia just nodded, her gaze distant. Ninety days. In the weeks that followed, Amelia began to systematically liquidate the assets Eleanor had quietly willed to her, separate ---- from the Caldwell trusts. A small portfolio of stocks, a collection of antique jewelry, a minor art piece. Eleanor, it seemed, had anticipated Amelia might one day need an escape route. Amelia converted everything into liquid funds, depositing them into a new bank account under her maiden name. She researched design institutes in New York, her old dream resurfacing with surprising clarity. Independence. It was a tangible, achievable goal. One evening, needing to retrieve some personal documents, Amelia returned to the sterile, opulent house she had once shared with Ethan. She let herself in with her old key, the silence of the house pressing in on her. As she walked towards the study, she heard sounds from the master bedroom. A low murmur of voices, a soft laugh. Jessica' s laugh. Amelia froze, her heart clenching with a familiar, sickening dread. She pushed open the bedroom door. ---- Ethan and Jessica were on the bed, entwined, a bottle of champagne on the nightstand. They were mid-kiss, oblivious to her presence. Amelia gasped, a raw sound of disgust and betrayal. They sprang apart, Ethan' s face flushing, Jessica looking momentarily flustered before her expression hardened into a triumphant smirk. "Well, well," Jessica purred, pulling the silk sheet higher. "Look what the cat dragged in. Lost something, Amelia?" Ethan stood up, hastily pulling on a robe. "Amelia! What the hell are you doing here? This is still my house." His voice was harsh, defensive. "Our house, Ethan," Amelia corrected, her voice trembling despite her efforts to remain calm. "At least, until the divorce is final. And this... this is disgusting." The sight of them, so comfortable, so intimate, in the bed she had once shared with him, was a visceral blow. Ethan scoffed. "Disgusting? Don't be a hypocrite, Amelia. You used to dream of this, didn't you? Me, in your bed." His words were a deliberate, cruel taunt, referencing the early, hopeful days of their marriage, her naive attempts at seduction, his cold rejections. ---- The taunt, meant to shatter her, instead solidified something within Amelia. A profound, irrevocable certainty. "Yes, Ethan," she said, her voice suddenly clear, devoid of tremor. "| did dream of it. | was a fool. Blind and stupid." She looked him directly in the eye, her gaze unwavering. "But | swear to you now, Ethan Caldwell, on my mother' s grave, on my own future, | will never, ever, love you again. | would rather die than feel a flicker of what | once felt for you." Her voice rang with a conviction that was absolute. Ethan stared at her, his pupils dilating slightly. For the first time, he looked truly shaken. The force of her oath, the chilling sincerity in her eyes, it seemed to penetrate his armor of arrogance. He opened his mouth, then closed it again. A small, almost imperceptible tremor went through him. He looked... lost. Jessica, sensing a shift in the dynamics, immediately intervened. "Ethan, darling," she cooed, her voice laced with feigned distress. "Don't listen to her. She's just trying to upset you. Come back to bed." ---- She reached for his hand, her eyes flicking towards Amelia with venom. Ethan allowed himself to be pulled, his gaze still fixed on Amelia, a dawning unease in his expression. He turned away, but the image of Amelia' s resolute face, the echo of her chilling oath, lingered. As Ethan tended to Jessica, fussing over her feigned distress, he nicked his finger on the champagne flute he was refilling. A small drop of blood welled up. He stared at it, unseeing, his mind replaying Amelia' s words. "| would rather die..." The vehemence, the finality... it bothered him more than he cared to admit. He shook his head, dismissing it. She was always dramatic. This was just a new level of performance. But the unease remained, a cold knot in his stomach