The apartment door lock was smashed beyond recognition.
I pushed the door open and, as expected, saw Jaxon slumped on the floor.
He was seriously looking at a photo album on the table–all the pictures he’d taken of me before.
When I was moving out, I’d searched everywhere for this album and cried when I couldn’t find it.
He’d comforted me, saying we’d have countless more albums in the future–losing one didn’t matter.
I said coldly: “Jaxon, this apartment is solely in my name. How do you have the nerve to be here?”
His body went rigid for a moment, then actually started trembling slightly.
After a pause, he calmly closed the album and stood up:
“Harley, eighteen–year–old you would never let go of my hand. Let’s go home.”
I dodged his outstretched hand, refusing without any softness.
He was the one who destroyed the beautiful love I had at eighteen.
“You didn’t sell this apartment, you didn’t lose the album–you still have feelings for me.” His voice was very soft.
I looked straight into his eyes: “I just never had time to deal with this place. The cleaning lady’s been taking care of it.”
“Harley.”
He sighed, a smile appearing at the corner of his mouth, his eyes clearly not believing me.
Was it because I’d loved him so deeply that I gave him the illusion that as long as he sincerely apologized, I’d definitely come back?
“Jaxon, from the day I decided to divorce you, I never thought about getting back together. I only look forward, not back to pick up
trash.”
I knocked on the broken door lock, saying without looking back:
“This house is in my name. You’re trespassing now. If you don’t leave, I’m calling 911.”
With that, I turned and walked away. Jaxon went to the balcony and looked down to see Dash waiting by my car. After watching me come down, Dash opened the car door for me, then casually glanced up.
That glance landed right in Jaxon’s line of sight.
Dash showed no particular emotion–like he was looking at some irrelevant piece of trash.
Jaxon’s hands in his pockets, veins bulging.
No one knew that after we left, Jaxon punched his fists bloody.
Turns out what he thought was ordinary–feelings cooled by time from their initial passion–actually caused heart wrenching pain when truly lost.
After that day, Jaxon seemed possessed, showing up every morning in Harley & Dash Group’s lobby with expensive jewelry his assistant had bought and a bouquet of roses.
Our Vows Were Lies. But Your Revenge Will Be Very Real
Chapter 7
When I worked late, he even tried playing “Dream Wedding” on piano to reminisce about old times.
When I had Scott ask him to leave, he’d shake his head and say he was there to discuss business, not cause trouble.
But every time after late–night overtime, when Dash came to drive me home, Jaxon’s gaze was terrifyingly cold.
The day I was sick with fever and didn’t go to the office, Dash saw Jaxon clinging like a band–aid and said mockingly.
“Dignity’s a good thing–too bad not everyone has it.”
Jaxon’s anger flared, but he didn’t show it, speaking contemptuously:
“You’re just a tool Harley’s using to punish me. Don’t think too highly of yourself. Otherwise, during our ten happy years together, why didn’t you say a single caring word to her?”
“That’s exactly why I say you have no shame. Harley’s pure heart only got trampled on. Jaxon, if I were you, I’d be too ashamed to show my face in front of her.”
For the first time, Jaxon was speechless in front of Dash, and he stopped showing up at Harley & Dash.
Two months later, Dash and I pushed through the first wave of overseas partnerships.
Assistant Scott reported with a pale face:
Several of Harley & Dash’s brick–and–mortar stores had been splashed with red paint, with blatant personal attacks written against
- me.
