99 Houses for His Love One for My Freedom novel Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Ethan hadn’t shown up once in the past two days. I figured he was busy keeping Tiffany from spiraling. She always needed careful handling.

Somehow, even with Tiffany glued to his side, he still made time to message me every single night.

A celebrity scandal.

A random street cat he saw near the valet.

Some viral meme making the rounds on social media.

We talked like your average long–distance couple–trading nonsense just to fill the silence.

But in five years of marriage, Ethan and I had never shared this kind of everyday chatter.

So why now?

Why bother pretending we had a life together, just as I was getting ready to walk out of his?

I didn’t ask. I didn’t want to know.

For the past three days, I’d been packing. Slowly, deliberately. Shipping boxes off to Silverpine one by one.

I’d already worked out a lease with a real estate firm and signed over management of all one hundred properties in my name for rental.

I guess that finally got his attention.

That night, he called.

“Lucas said you’ve been moving stuff?”

I kept my tone light, breezy. “Yeah. Figured since we’re supposed to check out the Marina Heights place, I’d settle in early. I like it there.”

He hesitated. Then, as if testing the waters, said, “Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to set off some fireworks out there.”

I gave a soft laugh. “Careful. You’ll get arrested.”

That made him chuckle, finally relaxing.

“Alright then. Tomorrow night. I’ll meet you at the villa.”

I hummed a vague agreement.

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At that very moment, a text pinged on my screen–confirmation of my flight to Silverpine.

Ethan must’ve sensed something, because his voice turned oddly serious.

“Promise me you’ll wait for me.”

“I will,” I said.

But the next night, he didn’t come.

Instead, Lucas called, stammering his way through an apology.

“Mr. Whitmore got pulled into a last–minute meeting. He’ll be late.”

But social media said otherwise.

There she was–Tiffany, glowing under the moonlight on the deck of a private ferry, as dozens of candlelit

lanterns floated across the bay behind her.

Ethan stood right behind her, hand on her waist.

I checked the time.

My flight took off in four hours, and our divorce would be official in two.

I probably wouldn’t get the chance to tell him face to face.

Countdown: 3 hours.

I stood inside the Marina Heights villa–the one he gave me like a consolation prize–and stared out the

window.

The river sparkled under moonlight, dotted with drifting candlelights.

I wondered which one was theirs.

I thought back to what he’d said the night before. “Wait for me.”

I smiled, wondering if he’d have come running had he known this was the last promise I’d ever wait for.

I walked back into the bedroom. My suitcase sat by the door, small and neat.

There wasn’t much to take with me.

There wasn’t much here that ever truly belonged to me.

This house–just like all the others–was just another bandage over a fresh wound. One of a hundred.

So leaving from here… felt right, in a way.

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