From Neglected Wife to CEO’s Obsession novel Chapter 112

I didn’t look back.

Remy’s voice disappeared into the night, as soft and fragile as a dead leaf caught on the autumn wind. Maybe someday I’d hear it again, but by then, it would just be dust—something broken down and burned away.

I slid into the car, taking a moment to get comfortable behind the wheel. The engine started with a low hum. I pulled onto the main road, leaving Remy behind me for good.

A simple “I love you, only you” doesn’t change anything. It doesn’t fix what’s broken. All it did was make my eyes sting and my chest ache in a way I couldn’t put into words. Sometimes, a car is more real than a promise—at least you know what you’re getting.

The person I once loved with my whole life, my whole heart, was now just someone I used to know. We were never meant to last. We’re both moving on, going our separate ways.

The car was worth millions, and I could almost believe money buys peace—the sound of the tires on the road was oddly calming. I drove for over an hour, letting the highway swallow me up. By the time I parked outside my apartment, my mind was finally quiet, my heart empty and still.

I used to hold onto hope for Cindy, telling myself there was still something left to look forward to—some meaning in life, in love.

But when Cindy called me “stepmom,” I finally understood what my mom meant when she said, “You can’t make lamb out of beef.” No matter how much you give, how much love or energy you pour in, sometimes it just isn’t meant to be.

If that’s how it is, maybe it’s better to let go now than drag it out.

I sorted out a parking space with the building manager, paid the fee, and headed upstairs with my bag.

Living alone is lonely, but it’s also simple. I walked in, took a shower, changed clothes, made dinner, cleaned up, and crawled into bed. No more waking up two hours early to make red bean soup for someone else’s health. No more sneaking into the kids’ room at night to pull up blankets, no more reading bedtime stories until my voice gave out. I could finally sleep through the night.

I made some noodles with eggs and greens, poured them into a blue and white bowl, and sat down at the table. Just as I picked up my chopsticks, my phone started buzzing—Kailynn was calling me on video.

On the screen, I could see she was at a bar, neon lights swirling behind her. Her eyes were glassy, her makeup smudged with tears. She kept asking me, over and over, why.

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify