The hardest year of Oliver's career had come.
In my desperation, I sold the bracelet my mother, Miranda Bullock, had left me.
Oliver Pettyfer had sworn to me that once he got back on his feet, he would buy it back.
But after seven years of marriage, that bracelet had ended up on the wrist of his mistress, Lillian Miller.
I still remembered the day I overheard Lillian's innocent voice asking, "Aren't you going to give this back to Scarlett?"
Oliver's gaze softened as he replied, "It's just a worthless bracelet. She won't mind."
*****
I had grown accustomed to cooking for myself; it was a habit formed from years of neglect. After finishing the last spoonful of soup, I opened WhatsApp and found Oliver's chat.
The last message I sent him asked if he was coming home.
He never replied.
Just as I was about to distract myself with some short videos, something in the local recommendations caught my eye.
There it was—my bracelet, being toyed with by Lillian, Oliver's assistant.
That bracelet was a piece of my mother's legacy.
I had sold it in agony to help Oliver rise again, but for seven long years, he had insisted he hadn't found it.
The caption accompanying the photo read: [A little gift from the boss.]
The location tagged Oliver's company.
My heart sank, a heavy weight settling in my chest.
That was my bracelet.
I called Oliver, desperate for an explanation, but he rejected my call.
By eight that evening, I found myself standing outside his office building.
I made my way straight to the CEO's office, but before I could even knock, I heard Lillian's cheerful voice ringing out.
"Thank you, Mr. Pettyfer! You're so kind!" she chirped, her tone grating on my nerves.
"But didn't you say this was Scarlett's? Isn't it a bad idea for me to take her things?" she continued, feigning innocence.
Oliver's voice, calm and collected, pierced through the air.
"It's just a worthless bracelet. She won't care."
That was it. I could no longer hold back. I pushed the door open, my heart racing.
I forced myself to keep my voice steady. "Oliver, say that again?
"Why didn't you tell me you found the bracelet?"
Inside the office, Lillian was snuggled up against him, carelessly playing with the bracelet on her wrist.
When our eyes met, a smug smile danced across her face, a challenge in her gaze.
Oliver replied nonchalantly, "Why? Because Lillian likes it. Just let her have it."
He knew exactly what that bracelet meant to me, yet he dismissed it as if it were nothing.
He slowly nudged Lillian to stand up, then glanced at his phone. "Did you call me?
"I don't respond to your texts, which means I don't come home for dinner. After all these years, you still don't get it?"
I ignored his question and extended my hand.
"Give it back."
He frowned, irritation flashing across his face. "Scarlett, can you stop being so petty?
"If you want something more expensive, I'll buy it for you. Why make a scene?"
I maintained a calm exterior, but inside, I was falling apart.
"Oliver, is this really how you want to play it?
"Just because I warned you to be careful around her, you're going to retaliate like this?"
I couldn't comprehend how the man I had loved for seven years had turned into someone so callous.
Sensing the tension, Lillian put on a faux-innocent expression.
"I'm sorry, Scarlett. I'll return it right away.
"It's my fault! I'll give the bracelet back. Please don't fight with Mr. Pettyfer!"
I caught a flicker of malice in her eyes, and by the time I realized it, it was too late.
"Oops!" Lillian exclaimed, her grip slipping, and the bracelet fell to the floor, shattering into pieces.
"Oh no! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to, Scarlett..."
Before I could respond, Lillian was already in tears.
I remained silent, crouching down to gather the broken shards, my gaze instinctively shifting to Oliver.
His expression was a mix of shock and disbelief, as if he hadn't seen this coming.
Tears fell onto the cold floor as I desperately searched for the remnants of what had once been a cherished keepsake.
My vision blurred through the veil of my tears. The last memento Miranda had left me was now gone.
I felt as if I had become nothing more than her final relic.
The pain in my chest was suffocating, and I looked at Oliver with an empty heart, void of any lingering affection.
"Oliver, we need to get a divorce."
Chapter 2He raised an eyebrow and said, "You're really going to divorce me over a bracelet?
"Is being Mrs. Pettyfer just too comfortable for you?"
Lillian's face turned pale as she stammered, "I'm so sorry, Scarlett! I didn't mean to drop it! How much is the bracelet? I'll pay you back!"
I shot her a cold glance. "This is a keepsake from my mother. You think you can afford it?"
Her expression paled further. "I... I didn't know...
"Mr. Pettyfer said it was just a worthless bracelet. I thought..."
Oliver interrupted our exchange, his tone dismissive.
"Enough! I was just trying to lighten the mood. I never said you couldn't have it.
"Why are you being so petty? Just because of a bracelet, you're going to throw a divorce in my face?
"Scarlett, you're really getting bold!"
Oliver seemed to think that after all these years, he was the one keeping me afloat, allowing me to enjoy my life as a wealthy wife.
But Oliver had conveniently forgotten that it was during his company's bankruptcy that I had made the hard choice to sell that bracelet to help him get back on his feet.
Now, his words felt like a denial of my worth.
I said, forcing a bitter laugh, "You know what that bracelet means to me.
"I'm not making a scene."
I cradled the broken pieces of the bracelet in my hands, my expression betraying no emotion.
"See you in court on Monday."
With that, I turned on my heel, leaving Oliver staring after me, his face gloomy.
The autumn rain fell in heavy sheets, thick and relentless. It was just like the autumn when Oliver lost everything.
I remembered how he held me close, weeping, promising he would find a way to buy it back.
"You have to wait for me. I'll give you the life you want," Oliver had said.
And I believed him.
Now, I was left with shattered pieces of the bracelet and the sting of his disdain.
I couldn't help but laugh at my own naivety.
I didn't know what Lillian had whispered in his ear, but I could guess it was something that hit too close to home.
For me, that bracelet was a symbol of Miranda's love. For Oliver, it was a constant reminder that he had risen from nothing thanks to my sacrifice.
His pride wouldn't allow him to accept that.
It was ironic, really.
Oliver thought relying on a woman's money was shameful, yet here we were.
But I was beyond caring now.
I touched the bag that held the remnants of the bracelet and quickly reached out to a skilled craftsman, asking if there was any chance of repair.
After examining it for a while, he confirmed it could be fixed but warned that it might never look the same again.
"If it holds special meaning for you, I'd recommend leaving it as is," he said gently, clearly concerned about my feelings.
I remembered the day my mother passed, how she had held my hand and Oliver's, urging us to take care of each other.
Now, with the bracelet broken and trust shattered, everything felt meaningless.
Oliver had betrayed me, and in doing so, he had betrayed Miranda, too.
After seven years of marriage, the house felt emptier than ever. Standing in the hallway, I was at a loss for where to even begin picking up the pieces.
I sat in silence until midnight when Oliver sent me a WhatsApp message.
[What do you want to eat? I'll grab something for you.]
I stared at my phone, unsure how to respond.
Moments later, the phone rang. Oliver was calling.
The background noise was loud, suggesting he was at a night market.
I hadn't expected him to go there; he had always turned his nose up at street food.
"What do you want? I'm at the night market. Don't you like... Cioppino?"
I paused for a moment before replying, "I don't like it."
I was allergic to seafood.
"So what exactly do you want to eat?" Oliver snapped impatiently.
"Mr. Pettyfer, look! This looks so delicious!"
A familiar voice rang out, and just as my wavering heart was about to give in, it shattered once more.
It dawned on me that he was there with Lillian.
Lillian said, her tone light and playful, "Oh? Scarlett, don't you have anything you want to eat?
"Mr. Pettyfer and I brought you a milkshake, you want one?"
Lillian teased, stretching out her words, "There's a buy-two-get-one-free deal at the shop!"
"I don't really feel like eating anything. You guys go ahead. And don't bother getting anything for me."
I hung up the phone without another word.
My eyes felt dry and hollow, but no tears would come.
At that moment, a long-forgotten WhatsApp profile picture popped up on my screen: [Scarlett, how have you been lately?]
Chapter 3I was taken aback. "Uncle Vincent?"
Vincent's messages came pouring in on WhatsApp.
[Scarlett, I heard from Leo that the bracelet my sister left you is broken.]
[What happened?]
Vincent and Leo, the craftsman who fixed the bracelet, were old acquaintances.
My throat tightened. [I'm so sorry, Uncle Vincent. I didn't take care of Mom's keepsake...]
I shared my decision to divorce Oliver with Vincent.
[If that's how it is, there's no reason for you to stay with him.]
[Scarlett, why don't you come live with me in France? Your aunt and I miss you a lot.]
France?
The idea had never crossed my mind.
But after hearing Oliver's words earlier, a light bulb went off in my head.
I typed: [Okay.]
I thought to myself, "He said I had grown bolder.
Maybe I could have a good life without him."
Just as I was wrapping up the conversation with Vincent, I heard footsteps in the hallway. I quickly deleted our chat history.
Oliver was back.
The air was thick with the lingering smell of Cioppino, a fishy scent that assaulted my senses.
Oliver said, handing me a takeout bag, "Here you go. I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I just grabbed something.
"Lillian said this Cioppino was really good, and there's milkshake too..."
I shot up from my seat.
"Didn't I tell you not to bring me anything?"
Oliver ran a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated. "What do you want me to get if you won't say? You're being difficult for no reason.
"If I came back empty-handed, you'd be upset anyway!"
He thought he understood me so well.
I couldn't help but laugh in disbelief. "Oliver, do you seriously not know I'm allergic to seafood?
"I already told you I don't like it! Why did you buy it anyway?"
He was clearly taken aback. "You should've said something sooner..."
"Which of my words do you actually listen to?!" All the pent-up frustration exploded out of me, and my shout only escalated his anger.
He shouted, "I was just trying to do something nice for you! If you don't want it, fine! Don't eat it, but why throw a fit?
"It's just forgetting my allergy! You act like it's no big deal! Why are you yelling at me?"
He angrily grabbed the takeout and tossed it into the trash.
"Fine! If you don't want it, then don't eat it!"
With that, Oliver stormed out, slamming the door behind him with such force that it made my heart race.
I collapsed onto the couch, shaking as tears streamed down my face.
I had never been the one truly loved; I was just an afterthought in his life.
Oliver didn't come home that night, and I was used to it by now.
I woke up groggily, only to find his jacket still draped over the chair.
The scent of his cologne made me feel nauseous. I absentmindedly rifled through the pockets and found a sachet tucked inside.
It smelled just like the sweet, cloying fragrance Lillian wore.
The stitching on the sachet was crooked, and the scent had faded, suggesting it had been in the pocket for a while.
I remembered when these sachets were all the rage—hand-sewing one for one's loved one was the trend back then.
I had poured my heart into making one for him, filling it with my favorite lemongrass scent.
But when I had given it to Oliver, he had wrinkled his nose and tossed it aside.
"It's ugly and smells bad. Don't give me this stuff again," Oliver had said.
That day, I had cried for a long time, nursing my pricked fingers from the countless times the needle had jabbed me.
But now, it didn't matter anymore.
Suddenly, the doorbell rang.
I opened the door to find Lillian's bright, cheerful face smiling back at me.
Lillian beamed at me, saying, "Scarlett, I'm here to help Mr. Pettyfer with his jacket.
"So, how was the cioppino and milkshake last night? Did you like them?"
The satisfaction in Lillian's smile was blatant. I turned to hand her the jacket, my expression blank, but my gaze caught the dark hickey on her neck.
Paired with her overly shy grin, it was both beautiful and tempting.
Clearly, things had heated up between them last night.
"Not great," I replied, putting on a disinterested facade.
"Really? I thought it was quite tasty!" Lillian chimed, twirling on her heels to leave.
Then, as if something had clicked, she turned back to remind me, "Mr. Pettyfer wants you to cook for him later. He said he's craving beef stew; make sure the beef is tender."
"Got it."
With a satisfied nod, she left.
I shut the door and returned to my room, starting to pack up my things.
Agreeing to cook was one thing; whether I would actually pull it off was another story altogether.
Chapter 4When Oliver walked in, I was busy packing my bags.
"The court doesn't open until tomorrow. You can put on your show then," Oliver teased, glancing at my phone on the table, reaching for it as if to unlock it.
"Did you change your passcode?"
I had switched it from his birthday to mine, and now he couldn't get in.
"Yep."
He chuckled dismissively, thinking I was just being petty, and turned to head to the kitchen.
Then, his voice came from the kitchen. "Scarlett, didn't I ask Lillian to tell you to make beef stew?
"I'm starving. If you're not cooking, what do you expect me to do?"
I didn't even look up. "Order takeout!"
His frustration was palpable. "Scarlett! You know I can't eat that junk from outside! I was trying to have a decent conversation, but you keep this up! Who are you trying to annoy?"
I zipped up my backpack and fixed him with a steady gaze. "Why should I do what you say? Besides, you seemed to enjoy that street food last night."
His expression froze. "I was just accompanying her..."
"Whatever. I don't want to know," I said, turning to leave.
He blocked my path, pulling a gift box from his coat.
"This is something Lillian insisted on giving you. I hope you'll accept it."
"Why didn't she come to apologize in person?"
Oliver snapped, "She's already making amends, and you're still nitpicking?"
I pressed my lips together and opened the box.
Inside was a cheap plastic bracelet.
Without a second thought, I tossed it into the trash.
His eyes blazed with anger.
"That's Lillian's heartfelt gesture! Do you really have to treat it like this? Scarlett, can you stop being so unforgiving?"
I smiled, "If you like it so much, feel free to dig it out of the trash. After all, it's her 'heartfelt gesture.'"
To my surprise, Oliver actually retrieved the plastic bracelet from the garbage, his expression a mix of hurt and disbelief.
My breath caught in my throat.
He had never cared about anything I gave him.
"No matter how many bracelets you want, I can get you that. I can get you one that's a hundred times more expensive than the one your mother gave you," Oliver said defiantly.
I shook my head. "I don't want anything.
"I just want the original bracelet.
"The one my mom gave me."
He said in frustration, shutting his eyes, "Can you let it go already? It's broken.
"No amount of crying and complaining will bring it back."
His words struck hard.
I retorted, "Is it just the bracelet I care about?"
I had wanted to say more, but my throat felt stuffed, and nothing came out.
I lowered my head and quickly finished packing.
"See you at the court tomorrow," I said quietly.
Oliver scoffed, saying, "If you want to make a scene, go ahead. Do what you want!"
I moved out of the home I had shared with him for seven years.
I found a hotel nearby and started working on my visa.
Vincent was thrilled to hear about my decision to come.
He had asked before, but I couldn't bear the thought of Oliver struggling alone in Chicago, so I had put it off.
The man I had loved for seven years was slowly unraveling before my eyes.
As I looked back on everything Oliver had done, it was clear he was just testing my obedience to him.
Countless instances of emotional coldness had drained my passion, and I had learned to lower my expectations of life with him.
As I traced the broken edge of the bracelet, I thought this might be the last time Miranda was protecting me.
The next day, Oliver and I walked out of the courthouse in silence, the divorce certificate feeling cold and weightless in my hands.
He squeezed the document, glancing at me lazily.
"Now you've got no room to backtrack. Don't expect me to back down."
I nodded. "I don't need it."
As he saw my unwavering composure, Oliver's eyes revealed a flicker of pity.
"Don't be too hard on yourself. If you genuinely want to get back together, just apologize to Lillian."
I replied indifferently, "Not necessary."
He sighed, "Scarlett, why can't you just swallow your pride?
"You've already caved in so many times—what's one more?
"Remember that Europe trip you always wanted to take? Just say a few nice words, and we can get back together in no time.
"If you insist on dragging this out, I'll just go to Europe with Lillian instead."
I suddenly laughed. "Sure, go ahead and take her. I couldn't care less."