Chapter 26

After destroying the photos, she picked up her phone and opened an album titled “My Love.” No matter how many phones she’d gone through, she could never bring herself to delete these pictures. They chronicled their entire history, from the day they met until now.

This time, she long-pressed on a photo, selected “All,” and, without a shred of hesitation, hit delete.

The next day at the office, Anna, the resident sleuth, had more news to share.

“So, that car crash with his supposed wife? Turns out her own brother tampered with the car. He was trying to kill himself, but she miraculously survived,” Anna said, leaning back in her chair. “He’s rich and powerful, so why would he be so desperate? Was it over a woman p>

“I’ll never understand the rich,” another colleague chimed in. “Love is so trivial. Money is what matters. With enough money, you can have any man or woman you want p>

“That’s because you don’t get it. When you have everything material, you start chasing other things. They get everything so easily that the slightest romantic trouble sends them over the edge. Losing one love and they’re ready to throw their life away. It’s bizarre p>

Hannah felt a hot flush creep up her neck. For the past three years, she had been trapped in the prison of her love for Lionel, consumed with how to make him notice her, love her again. She had lost her dignity, her sense of self. There were times she had even considered… ending it all. A single phone call from Sandra was enough to send her into a spiral of jealousy and despair. But now, having let go, it all seemed so distant.

Before Lionel, she had been vibrant and full of life.

The casual chatter of her colleagues was like a revelation, and the knot in her chest began to loosen, bit by bit.

She spent the rest of the day immersed in her work, her mind filled with cases and legal briefs. There was no room for anything else. It felt like coming home to herself.

When her colleagues invited her out for dinner after work, she readily agreed She sent a quick text to Mrs. Rosenberg Sr. saying she wouldn’t be home but didn’t even think to message Lionel.

At her old firm, she had always turned down invitations, rushing home after work. Even knowing

Lionel probably wouldn’t be there et

she always held out hope. What if tonight is the night? So she waited, every single day, sometimes even cooking his favorite meals taking pictures, and asking if he would’ come. Her messages would vanish into a void, yet she persisted, living on that single, fragile “what if p>

After dinner, she went shopping with her colleagues, not getting home until after

ten.

As she walked into the living room,

she saw Lionel sitting on the sofa, a cigarette between his fingers. He was leaning back wearily, head tilted up exhaling smoke toward th ceiling.

He heard her enter and turned his head. “Why are you back so late?” Hannah pretended not to hear him and walked past, typing a reply on her phone.

She’d only taken a few steps when a large shadow fell over her. He snatched the phone from her hand, his expression dark as he scanned the screen.

“Are you done?” Hannah asked, her brow furrowed. She wasn’t worried about what he’d see. “Don’t worry. Cheating is a skill only you seem to have mastered p>

She took back her phone, deliberately opened her chat with Yves, and held it out to him. “Want to see more p>

Lionel’s eyes, cold as ice, narrowed. His face was a thundercloud. “I asked you a question. Didn’t you hear me? Why are you home so late p>

A smirk played on Hannah’s lips. “You’re allowed to stay out all night with other women, but I can’t go out with my colleagues p>