She gave orders. “You go to the company. I’ll take Felix to the hospital and stay with him for a few days. You manage the rest.”
She took Felix’s arm and left. Outside the station, my phone rang.
“Mr. Hill, the overseas flights are booked. We leave tonight.”
“Pick me up at eight. I want my technical team with me.”
“We’ll send a private jet. As many seats as you need. You choose salaries.”
Before leaving, I went to the hospital. Felix blocked the ward and smirked. I slid the divorce papers across.
“Felix, the company needs this signed. I know you’ll get Ms. Clara to sign.”
He waved me down the hall. “Wait here.”
Ten minutes later, he slammed the signed papers into my hands. “Now that you’re divorced, stop clinging to Ms. Clara. I don’t tolerate injustice. If you court her again, I’ll make sure you regret it.”
He sneered at my knees as if they mattered.
I remembered the small things: the way she used to trace the seam of my sleeve when I was anxious, the late-night calls during the company's worst months, the promises exchanged under fluorescent office lights. Those moments felt less like history and more like bait—proof I had been patient, loyal, and blind. The betrayal tasted like ash.