Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"Thank you for looking after me all these years."

Mr. Whitmore was stunned and quickly asked why I had suddenly made this decision.

I gave him a brief account of what had happened.

Then I heard him grinding his teeth.

"Son, the Whitmore family has wronged you! Don't worry. I've seen everything you've done. Without your help, that little brat would never have gotten where she is today."

"Do whatever you need to do. Whatever the consequences, I'll make her bear them herself."

"Thank you, Grandpa. Then please keep this from her for now."

His promise put my mind at ease. After hanging up, I got up, left the bar, and checked into a nearby hotel.

I tossed and turned, unable to sleep. At three-thirty in the morning, Serena sent me a voice message.

"Chase is really down. Apologize to him tomorrow."

Her tone was flat, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The shameless demand made me want to throw up.

I deleted it without a second thought. The screen lit up again, and a private post popped up, one Serena had forgotten to hide from me.

It came with two pictures:

One showed the Whitmore family’s heirloom sapphire cufflinks. In the other, she lay on a king-size bed in lingerie, giving the camera a sultry look.

"Wedding gift. Pick one."

She had tagged Chase.

Chase replied almost at once: "Babe, why choose? I want both."

My heart felt like it was being pounded over and over with a blunt object, aching until it bled.

Serena had once sworn that she would give me the heirloom at our wedding, as proof of our seven years together.

Lies. All of it. I was the only one who had given my whole heart, believing it would last forever.

I forwarded the screenshots and the earlier video to my lawyer, then texted my personal assistant.

"Go to the office first thing tomorrow. Compile every resource I've put into the Whitmore Group and into Serena without compensation, and schedule all the original files to be wiped in six days."

I really wanted to know how far Serena could get on her own once I was no longer working myself to the bone for her.

When all that was done, I managed a little sleep, numbed by the alcohol.

Early the next morning I hurried home and changed into clean clothes, ready to head out.

"Ethan, have some coffee to wake yourself up." Serena appeared in the living room. "Aren't you playing today? Chase says this match is really important. Look out for him today, and we'll call that your apology."

I stared blankly at the espresso she held out to me and didn't take it.

After a few seconds, she ran out of patience and frowned.

"Why aren't you drinking it? This is Yirgacheffe that Chase brought back from Ethiopia especially."

I slowly raised my head.

"Serena, I can't drink coffee. My old injury will flare up."

For a moment, she seemed torn.

Back then, the stab wound had gone too deep and left me with lingering nerve pain. Even a little caffeine could make the wound burn like fire.

The first time, I had rolled on the floor in pain. She had loudly ordered the butler to throw out every coffee product in the house, not even leaving a single mug.

Now she had forgotten that too.

Maybe she hadn't forgotten. Maybe she had simply stopped caring long ago.

"Chase meant well," she said, coughing awkwardly. Seeing my eyes redden, she sighed. "Forget it. If you don't want it, you don't have to force yourself. I'll drive you there."

I was already running late, so I didn't turn down her offer.

But when I walked to the car and reached for the passenger door the way I always had, Serena stopped me.

"Wait! You sit in the back."

"I'm picking up Chase. He's about to go play in a professional league, so he has to protect his legs. The passenger seat is more comfortable. Let him have it."