Chapter 218

I kept my eyes shut, the alcohol churning sourly in my gut. Words deserted me. What worries could I possibly justify? The very fact that I had to conceal my divorce screamed failure loud enough.

For the entire ride, I feigned sleep, maintaining a stony silence toward Jared. He remained silent as well.

Since I hadn’t given the driver my new address, he defaulted to driving me straight back to the villa. When I opened my eyes, I only wanted the driver to turn the car around.

“Victoria, we’re here,” Jared said, uncannily echoing my thoughts. “It’s past eleven. Let Warner head home. His wife just delivered their second child. He needs the rest.”

I glanced at Warner. Exhaustion was etched deep on his face. Murmuring thanks, I stepped out into the night.

Standing beside Jared, the chilly night air sliced through the alcohol haze, sharpening my senses. Without a word, I turned and walked away.

Jared moved instantly, his hand closing around my arm. “Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was tight. “This is your home. You lived here for six years.”

I wrenched my arm free, defiance flashing hot. “Not anymore,” I stated, my voice glacial. “I’m going back to my place.”

“Victoria!” His shout ripped through the quiet street, raw and desperate. “What the hell do you want from me? How much do I have to give in?” His voice cracked, teetering on the edge of control.

I kept walking. I’d never wanted him to give in—the bitter taste of being the supplicant was etched into my memory.

“Come back.” The plea was ragged as he lunged forward, arms locking around me from behind, trapping me against him. His voice was thick. “Victoria, I was wrong. Please. Don’t go. This house is a tomb without you. Yvonne and I… we need you.”

This was alcohol talking—sober Jared would never let such words pass his lips.

“I’ve already proved otherwise,” I retorted, twisting futilely against his iron grip. “You and Yvonne managed perfectly well without me.”

But he only crushed me tighter, as if trying to fuse me back into his existence. “Jared, stop! This isn’t you.” Anger finally ignited, sharpening my voice.

He clung on, his plea dissolving into raw desperation. “Don’t leave, Victoria. Please. Just stay tonight? One night.”

“No.” The single word was arctic. That glacial tone was meant to shatter the last of his illusions, to force the brutal truth into his consciousness: the woman who had loved him was gone. Every reservoir of that love had long since run dry.

“Then let me love you,” he begged, the words fracturing. “You don’t have to love me back. Just let me try.”

Only profound drunkenness could explain such abject pleading. “You’ve always loved yourself best, Jared. Your love? I don’t want it. Save it for someone who might believe it.” With a final surge of strength, I wrenched myself free.

My words must have struck a nerve. His grip slackened. Seizing the instant, I broke free and walked away, refusing to look back.

Relief washed over me as Jared didn’t pursue. The last thing I needed was a protracted scene on the doorstep, fodder for neighborhood gossip.

Outside the villa gates, I hailed a cab.

It was well past midnight when I finally reached my apartment. Bone-weary, I managed a quick shower before collapsing into bed, sleep claiming me instantly.

That night, I dreamed. Jared stood there, cradling a tiny infant, gently rocking it. He looked up, his eyes meeting mine. “Victoria,” he murmured, “the baby’s hungry. She needs feeding.”

“Ah—“ I jolted upright before he could finish, my forehead clammy with sweat. Pressing my palms to my temples, I willed the dream away. The female irony? Pleasant dreams dissolved upon waking. This nightmare, however, clung with horrifying clarity, every detail etched sharp.