Chapter 10
Smooth-so smooth that others envied us, some with jealousy, some with resentment.
Everyone thought we would grow old together, yet no one expected we would end up divorced.
My face grew damp, and for a moment I thought it was raining. But when I looked up, the sky
was clear.
I dove straight into the pool and swam a few laps.
Every time I wanted to cry, I went swimming.
Tears dissolved into the water, invisible, even to myself.
How clever I was.
Women like me-even when wounded-retreat into the shadows, hiding to lick our wounds where
no one can see.
Because nowadays, most people are nothing but hypocrites.
On the surface they appear sympathetic, but deep down, they are gleeful, mocking in secret.
I reminded myself:
This is the last time, Claire, the last time you cry for Ethan.
When the tears were done, everything would be over for good.
I officially handed in my resignation and left Hughes Group.
News spread quickly: the workaholic had finally quit. Companies scrambled to lure me into their
ranks.
But I declined them all.
Working for someone else would never compare to being my own boss.
My company was small, built bit by bit, but I knew one day it would grow, rolling like a snowball. And then came Adrian-my company’s biggest client.
Calling him a client was hardly accurate; he was more like a benefactor.
Orders worth tens of millions flowed to me with nothing more than a flick of his fingers, leftovers he barely noticed.
In just two years, I had become a well-known female entrepreneur.
Even my best friend was stunned when she saw me.
She sighed, shaking her head in amazement.
“Back when you were slaving under Ethan, you were like an ox-burning the midnight oil every night. But now…”
She looked me up and down and clicked her tongue.
“You’ve got that queen aura about you.”
I laughed and punched her lightly.
“Keep talking and you’re paying for dinner next time.”
She immediately begged for mercy.
Every time Ethan’s name came up, a ripple crossed my heart, then vanished.
Since the divorce, I had avoided him deliberately.
As long as I didn’t see his face, I wouldn’t be reminded of those unforgettable scars of memory. Then I could keep being the iron-willed woman I had become.
But three months later, I saw him again.
At a gala. He was sitting alone, silent, nursing drink after drink.
He looked disheveled, almost unrecognizable.
I couldn’t resist asking someone nearby:
“Didn’t Ethan divorce two years ago? Hasn’t he remarried? What about that young girlfriend o his?”
The person looked at me in surprise.
‘Claire, you sound like a newbie. Ethan’s infamous for being a playboy. Which girlfriend are yo alking about?”
‘In just the past six months, he’s gone through at least ten girlfriends. Each one a stunner.” A bitter smile tugged at my lips.
I’ve been buried in work these two years. Hardly followed any gossip. Might as well be nev around here.”
The person turned out to be quite chatty and rattled on.
They told me Ethan never remarried, nor did he marry Isabella.
nstead, he cycled through woman after woman.
Each one younger, each one with a better figure.
But they all had one thing in common-
hey were all workaholics.
Even those around him couldn’t help but shake their heads.
Ethan’s cursed. Since divorcing his ex-wife, every woman he dates is her stand-in.”
Almost as if he’s developed some kind of… self-destructive obsession.”
But the strangest thing? He used to hate workaholics. He was clingy to a fault, the last person who’d tolerate them.”
