Jail for Me, Millions for Her - Chapter 10: Chapter 10

Before?
Adam spoke as if it were nothing.
But I wasn't the same girl who would throw everything away for love anymore.
And he wasn't the man who made me promises, either.
I had seen the way he doted on Lily—over and over, it hammered home where I stood in his heart.
Hearing him now, I let out a bitter laugh.
"Save it. I don't need you to be happy."
I turned to leave.
But Adam grabbed me, his grip iron-tight.
"I was wrong, Rachel—I was just… lost for a second."
I fought against him. "Let go!"
Then, suddenly, I was yanked into another pair of arms.
I looked up, startled—Eric.
The moment Adam saw him, his face twisted with fury, his whole body tense with rage.
"This is between me and my wife. Stay out of it."
Eric smirked, unfazed.
"Rachel works for me. Of course I'm involved."
"Besides," he added, voice dripping with disdain, "she's divorcing you. Stop calling her your wife. Take your little sidepiece and get lost."
Adam snapped.
He shoved me aside and lunged, grabbing Eric by the collar, jaw clenched.
"Say that again. I dare you."
Eric tilted his head, meeting Adam's glare with a cold grin—and repeated every word.
Adam's fist swung before he even finished.
The punch sent Eric sprawling.
I rushed to help him up, shielding him. "Adam, have you lost your mind?!"
Adam's knuckles were white, his eyes bloodshot.
"I'm the man you love. And you're yelling at me—for him?"
This time, my laugh was real.
"Let me make this crystal clear," I said, locking onto his stunned expression. "I don't love you. Not anymore."
I turned to leave with Eric, but Adam's ragged shout stopped me.
"Rachel!"
His voice cracked. "If I cut Lily off—if I stop treating Eric like the enemy—can you forgive me?"
I didn't look back. The dim hallway swallowed my answer.
"Adam, it's not about them. I just don't love you."
That was all there was to say. I pulled Eric away, leaving Adam behind.
After that, Adam… vanished.
He turned himself in. Posted a public confession online, admitting I'd taken the fall for him years ago.
Even recorded a video—ten straight minutes of "I'm sorry," his voice hollow.
The man on screen was a ghost of who he'd been. Dark circles, unshaven, broken.
But watching it, I felt nothing.
My lawyer sent the divorce papers. We met at the courthouse, signed without a word.
As we stepped outside, Adam called after me.
"Take everything. The assets—I'll make sure you get it all."
He lifted a hand like he might reach for me, then let it drop.
"I hope you're happy. Take care of yourself."
I smiled. "Funny. I always have."
He flinched, then nodded, bitter.
I walked away without another glance. Behind me, Adam stood frozen, watching until I disappeared down the tree-lined street.
Then the sky opened up. Rain poured down as I slid into a cab, catching one last glimpse of him in the rearview—drenched, shoulders slumped, staring after me like a man already in prison.
And as the raindrops streaked the window, I smiled.
For me, the storm was over.
Sunshine waited on the other side.