“You’re overreacting,” Jason said, his arms crossed as he stared me down. “Talking about a divorce over this? Come on, Paige.”

“Overreacting?” I shot back, my voice sharp.

“Yes,” Leslie added. “Please, don’t be mad. It’s clearly my fault. Don’t say divorce because surely Jason will get hurt. He loves you. He just cares for me and I don’t want to be the reason you’re getting a divorce.”

“Is that so? Then, tell me, why were you at the hotel together?”

His face froze, the deflection he had ready dying on his lips. Leslie shifted uneasily beside him, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her dress.

Jason’s silence spoke louder than words.

Leslie glanced between us, her lips parting as if to speak. “It’s because…” She hesitated, then blurted, “Jason was comforting me. My boyfriend broke up with me, and I didn’t know who else to call.”

“Comforting you?” My voice cracked with disbelief. “Why him, Leslie? Why not me? I’m supposed to be your sister.”

She avoided my gaze, her tone turning defensive. “You were busy,” she said quickly. “I didn’t want to bother you, and I was scared—”

“Scared of what?” I demanded.

Her mouth opened and closed, her face pale. “Scared of you. I thought you’d get mad if you found out…” She trailed off, her voice barely above a whisper. “That I’m pregnant.”

Her words hit like a slap, leaving me stunned. “Pregnant?” I repeated, my voice cold. “Why would I get mad? That doesn’t make sense! Unless, did Jason get you pregnant?”

Leslie let out a nervous laugh, the sound too forced to be genuine. “Of course not,” she said, glancing at Jason. “It’s my ex-boyfriend’s. Please, sister, don’t stay mad at me. I’m sorry.”

Her attempt at an apology rang hollow, her eyes darting to Jason for support. Something in her tone snapped the thin thread of restraint I had left.

My palm connected with her cheek, the sharp crack echoing in the small hospital room.

Leslie gasped, stumbling back as she clutched her face. “Jason!” she cried, her voice trembling with exaggerated pain. “She hit me!”

Jason lunged forward, his hand grabbing my arm. “What the hell is wrong with you, Paige?” His voice was furious. “What if something happens to her baby?”

I yanked my arm free, glaring at him. “I don’t care. I’m just done with your pathetic lies.” My words were ice, cutting through the air between us. “Do whatever you want. Stay with her, take care of her, hell, raise her baby together for all I care. This is the last time you’ll see me.”

I turned on my heel, my chest burning. Behind me, Jason’s voice rose, but I didn’t listen. Leslie’s sobs filled the air, but I didn’t look back.

They didn’t seem to hear me as I walked out, the door clicking shut behind me.

When I reached the clinic, the cold air was biting at my skin.

I pushed the door open and walked inside. It was time to let go.

There is no way I’ll let a child be born in this world with a father who cheated on her mother.

Two days later, I lay in the hospital bed, staring at the ceiling. The sterile white walls felt suffocating, but not as much as the silence. Not a single call or text from Jason. Not even a token message to ask if I was okay.

That was the final straw.

I reached for my phone, scrolling through my contacts until I found the number. “Hi,” I said when the attorney picked up. “I need to finalize my divorce papers.”

The words came out cold, detached, but inside, I felt the weight of years crumbling away.

“Of course,” the attorney replied. “I’ll prepare everything and send it to you for review.”

I hung up, staring at the blank screen. The emptiness was suffocating, but not for long. My phone buzzed, breaking the silence.

“Miss Hill?” a polite voice said on the other end. “Your request to rent a yacht has been approved. When would you like to set sail?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Tomorrow evening.”

“Very well. Everything will be ready.”

I pushed open the front door of our house. The silence inside felt suffocating, but it didn’t last long.

Jason’s voice drifted from the living room. “We can’t just get rid of her yet. Not until I figure out what to do with the company.”

“You’ve been saying that for months,” Leslie said.

“Paige isn’t stupid,” Jason muttered. “If she steps down, everything falls apart. The company’s in both our names, but you and I both know I’m only swimming in cash because of her hard work. Once she’s out of the picture, we’ll figure it out. Until then, I can’t risk a divorce.”

I froze, my blood turning cold. So this was their plan. Jason had been using me, milking my company for years—that I had worked blood and sweat just to prove I wasn’t just an adopted daughter—while playing the doting husband.

I was right to leave.

Gripping the banister, I stepped into the living room. Both Jason and Leslie turned toward me, their faces frozen in shock.

“Paige,” Jason said, recovering quickly. His expression softened. “Where have you been? I’ve been worried sick.”

Leslie sat stiffly on the couch, her eyes darting between us.

Jason walked toward me, his hand reaching out to brush my arm. “I’m sorry about what happened. I realized my mistake. Why don’t we go out tonight? Just the two of us. Dinner, maybe? We could use some time together.”

I forced a smile, the sweetness in his tone barely concealing the rot beneath. “Sure, Jason. Sounds great.”

Ignoring them both, I turned and headed upstairs.

Once in my room, I moved quickly, throwing clothes into a suitcase and grabbing my essentials. I zipped the bag shut, my mind set on what had to be done.

On my way down the hall, muffled moans stopped me in my tracks. They didn’t even try to hide it. The sound was coming from the guest room.

I paused, but I didn’t have the energy to care. I tightened my grip on the handle of my suitcase and continued down the stairs.

In the kitchen, I placed the signed divorce papers on the counter. No explanations. No notes. Just my signature sealing the end of this nightmare.

A cab was waiting outside when I walked out. I tossed my bag in the trunk and slid into the back seat.

“Port 54,” I told the driver.

As we sped through the city, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number.

“Mr. Liu,” I said when my company’s financial officer answered. “I need you to finalize the paperwork for the company's fake bankruptcy. Make sure to let Jason believe it. And transfer all the debts to Jason Hill’s name. Effective immediately.”

“Are you sure, Mrs. Hill?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything, and oh, it’s Miss Moore now.”

By the time the yacht set sail, I felt a lightness I hadn’t felt in years. The salt air stung my skin, the horizon stretching endlessly before me.

The first island with a signal came into view, and my phone buzzed. Jason’s name flashed on the screen, followed by a flood of frantic messages.

Paige, where are you?

What’s going on with the company?

The police just came. I’m being arrested. What did you do?

I smirked, snapping a photo of myself in a swimsuit with the clear blue ocean behind me.

I texted.

Oh, sorry. I forgot to tell you. The company debts? That’s your problem now. And since we’re divorced, I don’t care what happens to you. Enjoy jail time, baby!

I sent the photo, and blocked his number.