Grace's POV
I clenched my jaw, fighting back the rage building inside me.
The urge to rip these two bastards to shreds for their betrayal burned through my veins, but I could see exactly what they were doing. They were trying to make me feel like the unreasonable one, like this whole 'Open Relationship' bullshit was perfectly normal and I was some kind of lunatic for rejecting it. Too bad for them—I wasn't buying their manipulation.
I fixed my glare on Charles and jabbed my finger toward him. "This isn't finished, you worthless piece of shit! I'm filing for divorce, so get ready for those papers!"
My gaze shifted to my younger sister, and the sight of her half-dressed state sent a sharp pain through my chest.
Amara meant everything to me.
I knew she'd been the one who took the hardest hit when our family fell apart. She was just eight years old back then, while I was already eighteen.
She sobbed day and night after discovering our family was destroyed—our father's affair, the messy divorce that followed. I felt utterly powerless and consumed with guilt that I couldn't do more for my baby sister. Even though I was technically an adult, I was still too inexperienced to know how to comfort a child dealing with such trauma. So when I started making decent money, I swore I'd give Amara everything she needed to never cry like that again.
I brought her with me to Los Angeles and told her to pick any college she wanted.
I covered her entire tuition in advance, saving her from drowning in student debt after graduation.
I sent her monthly payments to ensure she lived comfortably in LA. Even after she finished school, I let her stay in the unit right next to mine and Charles's, so she could pop over to help with household chores and meals while I was at the office.
What a fucking mistake that turned out to be.
'I probably spoiled her rotten,' I realized. 'Everything I did to make her happy just ended up destroying her.'
Doubt crept into my thoughts as I stared at Amara without speaking. She just rolled her eyes and sneered, "What? Planning to lecture me now? Jesus, sis, quit acting like some psycho bitch, okay? It's really not that serious!"
My throat tightened when those words hit me. I hardened my resolve and screamed at Amara, "You're going to be sorry, you selfish little bitch!"
I spun around and marched toward the front door with all the confidence I could muster. I could sense those assholes watching my back, probably hoping I'd collapse and break down sobbing.
But I summoned every ounce of strength I had and kept moving forward. I snatched my purse from the floor and yanked the door open.
Charles remained quiet until he watched me heading out. "Where are you going?"
I didn't even pause to answer him. "Anywhere that isn't here. Just looking at you two makes me sick."
SLAM!
I stormed out, letting the door crash shut behind me. I continued my confident stride down the hallway. But as I approached the elevator at the corridor's end, my legs suddenly buckled, and I stumbled over my own feet.
"Ah!" I crashed face-first onto the cold floor. I winced from the impact and scrambled to get back up before anyone could witness my humiliation.
While pushing myself up with my hands, I noticed a teardrop had fallen to the ground beneath me.
"W—Why am I crying?" I whispered to myself. "Why am I wasting tears on that worthless bastard and my equally worthless sister? They don't deserve it!"
I kept trying to wipe the tears away, but they wouldn't stop coming. So I gave up on that and focused on pulling myself together and standing up.
I couldn't keep up that fearless, confident act anymore. My heart was too shattered to maintain that facade.
So I shuffled toward the elevator, pressing against the wall multiple times to steady myself and prevent another fall. I kicked off my heels to make walking easier until I finally made it to the elevator.
I stepped into the elevator as it carried me down to the lobby. I had no destination in mind but desperately wanted to get as far away from Charles and Amara as possible.
Just the thought of sharing a home with those two worthless fuckers made my stomach churn.
Fortunately, the lobby was deserted when I passed through, probably because it was Friday night and everyone had already headed out somewhere—parties, dates, whatever people did for entertainment.
It was just me who never got to have any fun, not before I married Charles, and certainly not after.
I left the building and wandered aimlessly through LA's streets. I caught sight of my reflection in a shop window and nearly burst out laughing at myself.
My eyes were bloodshot and swollen from non-stop crying, and my dark circles were worse than ever from all those late nights at the office. My hair was a mess, my blazer looked like garbage, and my shoes were nowhere to be found. I was a pathetic sight.
I let out a bitter laugh. "Ha, I guess their mind games actually worked. Look at me now. I really do look like a crazy bitch."
As I continued walking, I spotted a taxi coming toward me. I squinted and recognized the familiar license plate—as the cab got closer, I realized it was the same one that had driven me home to my apartment earlier.
The taxi pulled up in front of me, and the driver leaned out his window. "Miss, are you alright?" he asked with genuine concern. "I saw you walking by yourself. This area isn't safe after dark."
I blinked several times, processing what the worried taxi driver had just said, then opened the back door and climbed in.
I settled into the backseat and sat there in silence.
——
The taxi driver grew anxious, but he kept quiet, allowing her to just sit there for a moment. He worried he might have picked up some unhinged woman having a breakdown in the middle of the night. After all, this lady had looked so polished and put-together thirty minutes ago, and now suddenly she appeared completely unraveled—the kind of person you'd want to avoid encountering after dark.
"M—Miss, where would you like me to take you?"
——
"Just drive and get me as far from this place as you can," I said in a cold voice. "This whole area stinks like garbage."