After Eight Years, He Walked Away Like I Was Nothing - Chapter 32: Chapter 32
You are reading After Eight Years, He Walked Away Like I Was Nothing, Chapter 32: Chapter 32. Read more chapters of After Eight Years, He Walked Away Like I Was Nothing.
Lachlan’s POV
The moment I heard those words, my mind just went blank.
Of all the hundred different scenarios that ran in my head, the one I dreaded most was the one that actually happened.
Just like that, it felt like things between Chantelle and me had hit a wall.
‘There’s nothing left I can say or do to make her stay…’
And the thought of losing her for good—it was like someone dropped my heart into boiling oil. It burned.
‘Why now? Why did her mom have to pass away at a time like this?!’
Kirsten’s POV
As I overheard the news, a flicker of triumph flashed across my tear-streaked face—so quick no one would notice unless they were really looking.
I sniffled and pretended to struggle to my feet, reaching toward Lachlan like I was trying to steady him.
“Locke, it’s okay,” I comforted him. “Even if Chantelle leaves you, the kids and I—we’ll stay by your side.”
I leaned in, trying to slip into his arms like I’d done a hundred times before.
But before I could even touch him, he slapped me hard across the face.
I stumbled back, clutching my cheek, stunned.
He glared at me like I was something disgusting stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Lachlan snapped, voice cold and sharp. “When we went bankrupt, you ran off to Berlin with another man! Don’t think for a second I’ve forgotten.”
“You really thought I was serious? That I wanted to marry you?” He scoffed. “I was only toying with you—because it amused me. And you actually thought you could take the place of my wife?”
His voice dropped lower, colder.
“I only have one wife, and that’s Chantelle. Even if she’s gone, that title will never be yours!”
He didn’t even give me a second glance. He just raised his hand and gestured sharply.
“Watch this woman,” he ordered, his tone unfamiliar. Two bodyguards immediately stepped forward. “By tomorrow, I want her completely gone from the estate—her and those two kids. Wipe out every trace of them here!”
My eyes widened. I shook my head, panic rushing in like a wave.
“No—no, Lachlan, please,” I begged, stepping toward him. “Don’t do this. Don’t throw us out.”
She never imagined this man could be so utterly ruthless.
I couldn’t believe it. Just days ago, this bastard had loved me like crazy. He’d even made the twins the only heirs to the Gurfinchels!
Now that Chantelle dumped him, he wanted us wiped out like he never knew of us!
My eyes locked on his face—drawn tight with pain.
And suddenly, the urge hit me. I wanted to tell him everything. Wanted to spit it all out and watch his world fall apart.
I wanted to let him know there was no fixing things with Chantelle. That it wasn’t just her mother standing between them anymore.
It was our kids too.
I almost said them. But I bit them back.
Right now, we were just being kicked out.
But as long as those kids shared his blood, I still had a way in.
If I pushed too hard now—especially with how crazy he was acting about Chantelle—he might cut us off for good.
Realizing that, I swallowed everything I wanted to say down my throat.
And when the guards grabbed me by the arms, I just let them drag me out without complaint.
Lachlan’s POV
I stood there frozen for what felt like half an hour. Then, finally, my fingers twitched to life, and I grabbed my phone with a shaky hand. I hit redial.
“Find Chantelle,” I said, my voice rough. “I don’t care what it takes—just find her.”
“I don’t care what happened,” I added quickly, my throat tightening. “I’m not letting her leave me.”
On the other end, Jules’s voice trembled. “Y-Yes, sir.” He didn’t dare say anything more.
I hung up, but my hand kept shaking.
For a long moment, I just stood there in the middle of the empty study, not even trying to keep it together anymore. The exhaustion—the gut-deep ache—finally caught up with me and settled in my chest like dead weight.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I just lay there staring at the ceiling, eyes wide open, mind spinning.
Eventually, I got up and wandered the estate like a ghost.
Room after room, hallway after hallway—no trace left that Chantelle had ever lived with me.
Her room had been completely emptied. Not even a single handkerchief was left forgotten in the closet.
All our photos were gone. Even the wedding portrait that used to hang in the living room had disappeared without a trace.
I stood there for a while, staring at the blank spot on the wall, trying to remember when this home started feeling… foreign.
At some point, without me even noticing, everything had changed. Once Kirsten moved in, her style quietly took over. The furniture, the decorations, even the smell in the air—it had all shifted into something I barely recognized.
Except for one thing. In the kitchen, a small yellow light still glowed softly from under the cabinet.
That was the only thing Chantelle had left behind.
Back when we first got married, I’d already brought the company back from the brink. But the grind never stopped—I was working around the clock.
And Chantelle was my secretary back then. She was just as buried in deadlines as I was.
We were so busy we barely had time to eat. Most nights, we stumbled through the door after some business dinner, starving.
Eventually, she bought that little yellow lamp and stuck it in the kitchen. It became our quiet signal—we were home, and it was time to breathe.
We’d take turns cooking something simple. Nothing fancy. Just whatever we could whip up in twenty minutes.
No matter how bad I messed up the food, she’d always say it tasted great.
But the truth was her cooking was way better than mine.
We’d eat together, laugh about stupid things, and half the time we’d end up tangled up before the dishes were even washed.
There were so many nights like that. Nights where we dreamed about the future, about what kind of life we’d build. We even imagined our future kids, down to what they’d be when they grew up.
But somewhere along the way, we lost it.
We went from sharing everything to yelling about everything. From holding hands to pointing fingers. We couldn’t even sit at the same table without snapping at each other.
There was a time when we were so close that people envied us, calling us the perfect couple or soulmates.
‘So what the hell happened?’ I asked myself mentally. ‘How did it all fall apart like this?’
That night, as I stood alone in the kitchen staring at that glowing yellow light, I felt it—regret, deep and sharp, eating me alive from the inside out.
The moment I heard those words, my mind just went blank.
Of all the hundred different scenarios that ran in my head, the one I dreaded most was the one that actually happened.
Just like that, it felt like things between Chantelle and me had hit a wall.
‘There’s nothing left I can say or do to make her stay…’
And the thought of losing her for good—it was like someone dropped my heart into boiling oil. It burned.
‘Why now? Why did her mom have to pass away at a time like this?!’
Kirsten’s POV
As I overheard the news, a flicker of triumph flashed across my tear-streaked face—so quick no one would notice unless they were really looking.
I sniffled and pretended to struggle to my feet, reaching toward Lachlan like I was trying to steady him.
“Locke, it’s okay,” I comforted him. “Even if Chantelle leaves you, the kids and I—we’ll stay by your side.”
I leaned in, trying to slip into his arms like I’d done a hundred times before.
But before I could even touch him, he slapped me hard across the face.
I stumbled back, clutching my cheek, stunned.
He glared at me like I was something disgusting stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Lachlan snapped, voice cold and sharp. “When we went bankrupt, you ran off to Berlin with another man! Don’t think for a second I’ve forgotten.”
“You really thought I was serious? That I wanted to marry you?” He scoffed. “I was only toying with you—because it amused me. And you actually thought you could take the place of my wife?”
His voice dropped lower, colder.
“I only have one wife, and that’s Chantelle. Even if she’s gone, that title will never be yours!”
He didn’t even give me a second glance. He just raised his hand and gestured sharply.
“Watch this woman,” he ordered, his tone unfamiliar. Two bodyguards immediately stepped forward. “By tomorrow, I want her completely gone from the estate—her and those two kids. Wipe out every trace of them here!”
My eyes widened. I shook my head, panic rushing in like a wave.
“No—no, Lachlan, please,” I begged, stepping toward him. “Don’t do this. Don’t throw us out.”
She never imagined this man could be so utterly ruthless.
I couldn’t believe it. Just days ago, this bastard had loved me like crazy. He’d even made the twins the only heirs to the Gurfinchels!
Now that Chantelle dumped him, he wanted us wiped out like he never knew of us!
My eyes locked on his face—drawn tight with pain.
And suddenly, the urge hit me. I wanted to tell him everything. Wanted to spit it all out and watch his world fall apart.
I wanted to let him know there was no fixing things with Chantelle. That it wasn’t just her mother standing between them anymore.
It was our kids too.
I almost said them. But I bit them back.
Right now, we were just being kicked out.
But as long as those kids shared his blood, I still had a way in.
If I pushed too hard now—especially with how crazy he was acting about Chantelle—he might cut us off for good.
Realizing that, I swallowed everything I wanted to say down my throat.
And when the guards grabbed me by the arms, I just let them drag me out without complaint.
Lachlan’s POV
I stood there frozen for what felt like half an hour. Then, finally, my fingers twitched to life, and I grabbed my phone with a shaky hand. I hit redial.
“Find Chantelle,” I said, my voice rough. “I don’t care what it takes—just find her.”
“I don’t care what happened,” I added quickly, my throat tightening. “I’m not letting her leave me.”
On the other end, Jules’s voice trembled. “Y-Yes, sir.” He didn’t dare say anything more.
I hung up, but my hand kept shaking.
For a long moment, I just stood there in the middle of the empty study, not even trying to keep it together anymore. The exhaustion—the gut-deep ache—finally caught up with me and settled in my chest like dead weight.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I just lay there staring at the ceiling, eyes wide open, mind spinning.
Eventually, I got up and wandered the estate like a ghost.
Room after room, hallway after hallway—no trace left that Chantelle had ever lived with me.
Her room had been completely emptied. Not even a single handkerchief was left forgotten in the closet.
All our photos were gone. Even the wedding portrait that used to hang in the living room had disappeared without a trace.
I stood there for a while, staring at the blank spot on the wall, trying to remember when this home started feeling… foreign.
At some point, without me even noticing, everything had changed. Once Kirsten moved in, her style quietly took over. The furniture, the decorations, even the smell in the air—it had all shifted into something I barely recognized.
Except for one thing. In the kitchen, a small yellow light still glowed softly from under the cabinet.
That was the only thing Chantelle had left behind.
Back when we first got married, I’d already brought the company back from the brink. But the grind never stopped—I was working around the clock.
And Chantelle was my secretary back then. She was just as buried in deadlines as I was.
We were so busy we barely had time to eat. Most nights, we stumbled through the door after some business dinner, starving.
Eventually, she bought that little yellow lamp and stuck it in the kitchen. It became our quiet signal—we were home, and it was time to breathe.
We’d take turns cooking something simple. Nothing fancy. Just whatever we could whip up in twenty minutes.
No matter how bad I messed up the food, she’d always say it tasted great.
But the truth was her cooking was way better than mine.
We’d eat together, laugh about stupid things, and half the time we’d end up tangled up before the dishes were even washed.
There were so many nights like that. Nights where we dreamed about the future, about what kind of life we’d build. We even imagined our future kids, down to what they’d be when they grew up.
But somewhere along the way, we lost it.
We went from sharing everything to yelling about everything. From holding hands to pointing fingers. We couldn’t even sit at the same table without snapping at each other.
There was a time when we were so close that people envied us, calling us the perfect couple or soulmates.
‘So what the hell happened?’ I asked myself mentally. ‘How did it all fall apart like this?’
That night, as I stood alone in the kitchen staring at that glowing yellow light, I felt it—regret, deep and sharp, eating me alive from the inside out.
End of After Eight Years, He Walked Away Like I Was Nothing Chapter 32. Continue reading Chapter 33 or return to After Eight Years, He Walked Away Like I Was Nothing book page.