Chapter 143

I’ll admit, I wasn’t like those ruthless heroines from revenge novels, cold and calculating with every move. So when Jared offered me a home in one of the most expensive cities in the world, my resolve wavered.

When we first got married, young and foolishly in love, I’d insisted on signing a prenup to prove I wasn’t after his wealth. Jared had resisted at first, but I was stubborn, determined to show everyone—his parents, mine—that I loved him, not his money.

In the end, the agreement was clear: anything Jared chose to give me would be mine, but I had no claim to his company shares or other assets.

Even now, I had no idea how much he was really worth. But one thing was certain: buying a penthouse in Shariport was nothing more than pocket change to him.

“The property would be solely in your name,” he continued, voice low. “A place for you to escape to when you need space. And you love shopping, don’t you? The boutiques here are unparalleled.”

I crossed my arms. “Why the sudden generosity?”

Jared turned away, his silhouette framed against the city lights. “These past six years… I’ve been too focused on work. I neglected you and Yvonne. You raised her alone, I know it wasn’t easy.”

He paused. “I understand why you’re resentful. But Victoria… let’s try again. Let’s fix this. Give Yvonne the family she deserves.”

When he faced me again, his expression was unreadable, those dark eyes impossible to decipher. Was he sincere? Or was this just another game?

In my previous life, this speech would’ve shattered me. I’d have sobbed into his chest, grateful for scraps of his attention.

But not this time. If men were reliable, I wouldn’t be here.

Still, the game required finesse. Melissa’s advice was working. Jared had been different lately: gold bracelets "just because," stacks of cash slipped into my purse, and now this, a penthouse in Shariport? His motives were murky, but the assets were real. And they’d be mine.

I let my lower lip tremble. “I just… feel lost.” Stepping closer, I blinked up at him with glassy eyes, the perfect picture of fragile devotion.

“Like I have everything and nothing at once. Yvonne will grow up, and you…” A shaky breath. “I’ve always known I wasn’t enough. Now you’re soaring higher, and I’m just… stagnant. It terrifies me.”

“You think I’d leave?” His hand settled on my back, pulling me close. “I might lose my way sometimes, but I always come home.” A thumb brushed my cheek. “Want a career? I’ll help.”

“Really?” I tilted my face up, all wide-eyed hope. “But you always said women can’t balance both.”

“Three years,” he conceded, fingers trailing through my hair. “Focus on work now. Yvonne’s too young to handle a sibling anyway. By ten, she’ll adjust.” Of course. Our daughter remained his priority.

“Okay,” I agreed softly, then slipped from his arms with a calculated pause. “Can we see that property tonight? Just the exterior?”

Jared blinked. His gaze flicked to the king-sized bed, then back to me.

“Please?” I caught his sleeve, deploying the delicate, pleading tone men pretend to hate.

With a resigned sigh, he reached for his jacket. “Fine. Let me change.”

The high-rise loomed before us, its glass facade gleaming under the midnight lights. Even at this hour, construction crews worked—proof this was the kind of elite development where money erased inconveniences like business hours.

The sales center stood locked, but I didn’t need to see interiors to know: this was power, crystallized in real estate.

“I want a higher floor,” I mused, tracing imaginary tiers in the air until my finger stopped at the 28th level. “The view must be breathtaking.”

Jared watched me, amused. “We’ll come back tomorrow after the wedding.”

“Thank you, darling.” I coated the words in honey.

He’d noticed the change, of course, how my eyes now lingered on balance sheets longer than on his face. But he’d misinterpreted greed as insecurity, a flaw he could conveniently fix with more zeroes. Men love playing savior.

Then, as I smiled my brightest, he struck: “Victoria. One honest answer: do I still matter to you?”

My focus slid from the penthouse to the man under the streetlamp. Honesty? Please. In my world, truths were just liabilities waiting to be weaponized.

Jared stepped closer, undeterred. “I want you to look at me like you used to. Like I’m the only thing in the room.”

I opened my mouth, then hesitated. Even lies tasted bitter now.

When I stayed silent, Jared suddenly gripped the back of my neck, pulling me in. His lips crashed against mine, rough and possessive, before he released me just as abruptly.

“The first time I saw you,” he murmured, voice thick with something dangerously close to sincerity, “I knew it wasn’t just a passing attraction. My body recognized yours. You don’t have to compete with anyone. When you’re near me, you win by default.”

I nearly laughed. Oh, please. In my previous life, he’d said the same damn thing to Tracy. She had been the one who "won by default" while I withered in the shadows.

Men were all the same, full of pretty words when they couldn’t have what they wanted.

But as I stared into his heated gaze, a cold realization settled in. I didn’t want him, I wanted his money. And since he held the purse strings, I’d have to play the game a little longer.

Maybe I needed to adjust my mindset. Men were tools. Use them well today, discard them tomorrow.

Jared was still my husband, after all. And I was no saint. He was handsome, loaded, and for now, mine. Why not enjoy the perks? Once the divorce papers were signed, a man like him wouldn’t look my way twice.

With a practiced smile, I tilted my head. “What’s gotten into you tonight, honey? So sentimental, it’s not like you.”

Jared leaned against the car door, lighting a cigarette. Maybe he really was in a strange mood.

“I never believed it before,” he mused, exhaling a slow stream of smoke. “But now I get it. The person you fall for at first sight… no matter what happens, you’ll always want them again.”

He took another drag, the pale haze curling around his sharp features before he added, almost to himself, “Our ending was written the day we met. Don’t you think so, Victoria?”

The ember glowed between us. No, I don’t.