The CEO’s Hidden Bride: Leaving After 2555 Days - Chapter 8: Chapter 8

The hospital doors slid shut behind Evelyn as her phone buzzed. The embassy staff informed her that her visa had finally been approved. She clutched the documents tighter and headed home to pack.
Each morning, she ripped a page from her desk calendar, watching the days dwindle. The year was ending. Soon, she’d leave the city she had lived in for two decades.
For an entire week, Lucas didn’t return home. Instead, Isabella bombarded Evelyn’s phone with taunting messages.
Seven days before her departure, a video arrived. In it, Lucas knelt before Isabella, carefully massaging her ankle with exaggerated tenderness.
Evelyn watched, then tossed every gift she’d ever bought him into the trash.
Five days before she left, photos flooded in—Lucas presenting Isabella with a velvet jewelry box, sliding a diamond ring onto her finger.
Without hesitation, Evelyn shattered their wedding portrait and tossed the pieces into the fireplace.
Three days before her flight, an audio file arrived—Lucas murmuring Isabella’s name in his sleep, his voice thick with longing.
Evelyn gathered every gift he’d ever given her and donated them all. The villa, once filled with memories, now echoed with emptiness. Her suitcase sat by the door, nearly packed.
The housekeeper eyed the barren rooms with concern. “Is everything alright, Mrs. Sinclair?”
Evelyn smiled faintly. “Just preparing for a divorce.”
“Did Mr. Sinclair agree?”
Agree? She doubted he’d even noticed. Isabella consumed his every thought.
The day before her departure, another message arrived—not of Lucas this time, but his parents. They stood around Isabella’s hospital bed, laughing like she was already family.
Evelyn felt nothing. She deleted Lucas, Isabella, and every trace of them from her contacts.
On the morning of her flight, the first snow of winter fell. She carried a box of diaries and unsent love letters into the garden.
Flames licked the paper, casting an amber glow over her face as years of memories turned to ash. She tilted her head back, watching snowflakes dance in the air.
How much snow would it take to bury the ashes?
The creak of the front gate startled her. Lucas, absent for weeks, finally appeared. He strode past her without a word, disappearing into the house.
When he returned, he paused beside her, his gaze lingering on the stack of pale pink envelopes—remnants of a love long faded.
“I’ve been busy,” he said. “We’ll talk once things settle.”
Talk about what? The divorce? Evelyn smiled humorlessly.
“There’s nothing left to say. I already gave you what you wanted most.”
Lucas frowned, but his phone buzzed. His expression softened as he read the message.
Evelyn tossed the last letter into the fire and stood, her skirt swirling around her legs, obscuring the flames.
By the time Lucas finished replying, the letters were ash, and whatever he’d meant to ask was forgotten. She walked him to his car, even opening the door for him.
A cold wind whipped past. “You’ll freeze,” he said, urging her inside.
But Evelyn insisted on seeing him off.
Through the window, he saw her lips move, but the words were lost to the wind. Probably another mundane reminder—Drive safe—like she’d said a thousand times before.
The engine roared to life, and his car vanished down the road.
Evelyn stood in the snow until her hair turned white with flakes. A cab pulled up. Before stepping inside, she glanced back at the villa and whispered,
“Never again, Lucas Sinclair. Never again.”