Duke kept his voice low, smile unwavering as he raised his glass to the gaping crowd below. As if we were discussing dinner plans. Tomorrow's meetings.
Something trivial.
A dull blade sawed back and forth across my chest, each stroke stealing my breath.
Thirty years. Thirty years, and all I'd ever had was his body—never his heart.
I looked out at the guests below, their whispers rising like steam. Those eyes that once glittered with envy had transformed into something worse: pity. Curiosity. Each glance a needle finding its mark.
Slowly, I unpinned the corsage from my chest and placed it in his palm. When I spoke, my voice came out sharp enough to cut—a tone I'd never used with him before.
"Duke. I built half of EmpireStar Group with my own hands. You don't get to hand my shares to some bastard child."
"You want your little mistress to take what's mine? Then get out of my company first."
I didn't cling. Didn't cry. Didn't make a scene.
I was fifty-five years old. I knew what mattered now.
I turned and walked out of that banquet hall without looking back.