Chapter 3
Brielle’s POV
Fortunately, my boss isn’t busy when I arrive at the hospital. He looks up from his desk, warm and unflappable as ever, his easy charm undimmed by the stress of the job.
“What brings you in on your day off, Brielle?” he asks, the corners of his eyes creasing with genuine concern. I’ve always liked him-he’s a straight shooter, compassionate without ever being sentimental.
I steady my voice. “I’m going through… a rough patch, personally. I wanted to ask if the private hospital job you mentioned is still open?”
He leans back and sighs. “The one I offered you last month? That’s been filled, I’m afraid.” The floor seems to drop from under me for a split second-my last hope for a clean break, gone.
But then he offers a lifeline. “However, I do have something else, if you’re interested. The research division of the heart clinic needs a manager. We’re running multiple trials; I need someone who can take charge and run with it. You’d work alongside Dr. Myndale, who manages the surgical clinic.”
I blink, stunned by the offer. “Are you serious? I’d love that-thank you. Yes, I’ll take it.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Good. I’ve got the paperwork right here-take your time, read it over and sign. Would a month be enough for you to get your personal affairs in order before starting?”
“That’s perfect,” I say, almost breathless with relief. “It’s been a pleasure having you here, Brielle. Why don’t you take the next two weeks off to get settled in Preston and start fresh?”
I stand, shaking his hand with a gratitude that’s hard to put into words. He never once mentions the mess in my personal life, and I am grateful for that, too.
“Two weeks is plenty,” I assure him, scanning the contract. I sign, almost in disbelief-I’m about to earn more money than I did as a heart surgeon. The irony isn’t lost on me. I tuck the contract into my bag just as the receptionist appears.
“Mr. Halborough will see you now.” I’m ushered into my lawyer’s office. He’s older now, hair gone mostly gray, but still sharp-eyed and handsome in a dignified way. His son-more youthful, but with the same steady gaze-sits beside him, quietly absorbing everything.
“Talk to me, Brielle,” Mr. Halborough prompts. He’s been my lawyer since my grandfather’s day, always in my corner.
I draw a slow breath. “Let me show you something first. Then you can tell me if there’s any way I can get a quick divorce today.” I send the video across, watching as father and son view the damning evidence, my stomach twisting with every silent second.
“With this video and your prenup, we can have this in front of a judge within hours,” he assures me. “If all goes smoothly, you’ll be free by tonight. Any other issues?”
“Yes. I need to amend my will. Everything to charity, at least for now.”
“Noted. Give me twenty minutes and I’ll have the paperwork ready for you to sign.”
I hand over my bank statements, heart pounding. “He wasn’t even supposed to have access to this
much-Balen had a ten-thousand-dollar daily limit, but he’s been draining the account over that, and the bank must be helping him. I closed it, threatened a lawsuit if they didn’t comply. Some of those purchases-gifts for Cyrene-were made against my wishes. Can I get the expensive ones back?”
He’s already scowling. “That’s theft. The prenup is clear. We can threaten criminal charges if they don’t return them. Leave it to me.” He almost seems to relish the prospect; he never liked how Balen wormed his way into my life.
“Anything we can do to make Cyrene sweat?” I ask, my voice tight. “You saw the video.” “Nothing immediate, but I’ll speak to the judge tonight-see if there’s anything I’ve missed.”
“I’ll wait outside while you draft everything.” I step into the corridor and dial Calitha.
“Calitha Serevan speaking, how can I help you?”
“Calitha, I’ll be over in about half an hour. Get everyone together-we’re heading to Preston.”
She sounds relieved. “I’ve got the papers ready, and I’ve found a few places I think you’ll love. Merek says he can be at your place around six. He wants pizza.”
I laugh, picturing Merek-our auctioneer-always ready with a joke and an appetite. I could use some of his humor right now.
“How many are coming?”
“Ten. Is that enough?”
“More than enough. See you soon.” I sign the legal papers, thank Mr. Halborough, and head for
Calitha’s office.
As I enter, a sales rep I’ve always disliked approaches, all shark-smile and calculation. “Ms. Pendry, what can we do for you today?” To him, I’m just a commission check in designer heels.
Before I can reply, Calitha appears, stepping from behind a screen. “She’s my guest, Mr. Jorlan.” The man scowls, slinks away, and watches us through the glass. I follow Calitha to her desk, glad I never
had to work with him.
She slides the listing agreement across the table, along with a folder of property details. “Here’s the paperwork for your house at the price you wanted,” she says, “and here are the houses and penthouses you might want to tour.”
I sign the listing, then scroll through the virtual tours on her screen. The second penthouse catches my eye-semi-furnished, walking distance from the new hospital. “How many units are on that floor?” I
ask.
“Two. The other is owned by a young guy, quiet.”
“Good. I’ll take this one. It’s listed at three and a half, right? Offer three million, cash. I want to rent it
until settlement.”
Calitha dials the owner, her face lighting up as she speaks. “She accepts-no charge for immediate
move-in.”
“Thank you.” I pause, then hand Calitha a business card. “Once you get your commission, leave this place. They don’t appreciate you. Try this agency-I used them before, settling my grandfather’s
11:06
2.03%%%
estate. Use my name. You’ll fit in better there.”
The rest of the afternoon blurs into a flurry of boxes and decisions. I pack my clothes, a few treasured things, and toss Balen’s belongings into suitcases and cartons. When Merek arrives, I hand him the key to Cyrene’s garage and the address, asking him to drop off everything of Balen’s.
By nightfall, the house is gutted, my car loaded with essentials, everything else en route to my new place. I book a motel and spend the evening out with Calitha and a handful of girlfriends, letting the laughter and noise drown out the ache.
Saturday dawns with the chatter of strangers in the motel hallway. Today is family lunch-an old tradition, whenever I’m not working. This time, it’s just me, my brother and his wife, and my parents. Time to break the news.
“Hello, dear, you’re looking well,” Mother greets as I step into the kitchen. She’s fussing over the stove, Dad and my brother already seated at the table. Lunch is a blur of small talk-my brother and his wife are expecting their first, and everyone seems genuinely happy for them.
Then my mother turns to me, eyes sharp. “So, Brielle, when will you and Balen give me a grandchild?”
I set my coffee down, gaze level. “Never.”
She blinks, startled. “Never? Why not?”
“It’s more likely Cyrene will have his child first.”
Her lips curl with disdain. “She doesn’t even have a boyfriend,” she snaps, missing the emphasis.
“Oh, but she does. Didn’t you know?” I feign surprise.
“Who?” she demands.
“Let me show you.” I open my laptop, queue up the video, and turn it so everyone can see. Silence falls, thick and electric, as the footage plays. My mother’s face goes pale; my father’s eyes widen in
disbelief.
“When did this happen? It can’t be true,” she gasps.
“Yesterday. And it is true. As of last night, I’m divorced from that lying, cheating bastard.”
She clings to her fantasy. “I’m sure you could forgive him, Brielle. Cyrene must have her reasons…”
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I cut her off. “You heard their reasons, Mother. And where do you think they are now? They’re not at a seminar-they’re on a dirty weekend, one they started yesterday. Your precious daughter’s been sleeping with my husband for years, burning through my money. When they come back, you can comfort her all you want-I’m done.”
I rise and leave the house-the house I grew up in, the house that never truly felt like home. No more playing the dutiful, forgiving daughter. No more sacrificing myself for their comfort.
Hours later, as I’m driving toward Preston, my phone rings. It’s Dad.
“Brielle…I just want you to know, I’m proud of you. I always suspected something was off between those two. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. Your mother always took Cyrene’s side, told me to stay out of it. Maybe, when you’re ready, we can start over. I’d like that.”
I smile through sudden tears-these, at last, are for something real.
“I’d like that too, Dad.”
