The car was soon filled with the sounds of feverish kisses, their mouths colliding as they greedily exchanged breath and warmth.
Hands fumbled, clothes slipped away, and when the sharp sound of a zipper being undone echoed in the silence, it was quickly followed by Colette’s breathy moan.
“Raphael… gentle, please,” she pleaded.
Raphael let out a low, guttural groan. “It’s too late for that, Colette. You’re the one who made me lose control.”
Shaking, I pulled out the car footage’s SIM card and took it with me before leaving his phone abandoned on the seat and stepped out of the car, walked to the street to hail a taxi.
As I entered the taxi, I cursed Raphael in my heart. ‘I know it. Since then, the woman you truly wanted was never me, it was Colette. So, enjoy my revenge, you shameless man!’
I took out my phone and sent him a message.
[I'll head back to the banquet first. I want to surprise you with my dress choice at your heir announcement.]
Then I blocked his number.
I tossed my old, cracked phone into a trash bin as I walked through the dimly lit airport.
It had survived too many falls, too many painful memories, and that time, I was leaving it behind—just like I was leaving him.
I pulled my coat tighter around me as I reached the private plane Victor had arranged.
Paris awaited. And this time, I was not running away.
I was starting over...
