I didn't go back into the lodge. That night, for two grueling hours, I dragged my frozen, numb body down the mountain until I stumbled into the nearest airport hotel.

Not another call from Rex. Not a single text.

The next day, I arrived at the gallery early, preparing the liquidation and handover documents.

Rex was the gallery's primary benefactor; I was merely the artist who managed it. I’d been with him since before he was a tech titan, yet my existence was still a footnote.

If I left, he probably wouldn't even notice.

Just as I was about to type the final sentence, Rex appeared behind me. I met his gaze without flinching, nonchalantly clicking away to a different document on my screen.

He stared at me, his voice icy. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing important. Just drafting a few exhibition proposals," I answered breezily.

Rex frowned but didn't seem to sense anything was amiss. "Chloe, come with me." He turned and strode toward my office.

The moment my name left his lips, my assistants started whispering. "Oh no, looks like Chloe's in for it with Mr. Blackwood again," one murmured.

Everyone here assumed Victoria was Rex’s public-facing partner. Very few knew I was the real fiancée.

Inside my office, Rex glared at me. "What's the big deal? So I didn't make it to the lodge," he scoffed. "Are you really going to throw a tantrum and not even come home over something so insignificant?"

I shook my head. "The weather in Aspen was bad. I couldn't get back."

It was partially true, but mostly an excuse. I had no intention of going back. I had already decided to leave for good.

The profound shift inside me went completely unnoticed. After a tense silence, he spoke again. "That portrait commission... I've arranged it for you."

He handed me a commission contract. "It's an exclusive commission from an artist I greatly admire," he said, his tone softening. "Let's have dinner tonight to celebrate." It was a clear olive branch.

I hesitated, then took the contract. He owed me this much, at least.

Seeing my continued silence, Rex opened his mouth to say more, but a piercing ringtone cut him off.

I watched him hurry out of the room. It was obviously Victoria. Only she could make him drop everything without a second thought.

Before leaving for the day, I printed the gallery’s closure notice and handed it to my mentor, Marcus Thorne.

He was stunned. "You're closing the gallery? Is this because of Mr. Blackwood?"

I pressed my lips together, a flicker of dark amusement rising in me. Everyone assumed I was giving up my career because I couldn’t handle Rex's neglect.

They didn't know I was leaving because there was nothing left of my heart to break.

When I simply nodded, he let out a long, weary sigh and signed the notice.

As I was leaving the gallery, I nearly collided with Rex and Victoria. It wasn't just my assistants—the entire New York financial world saw her as the woman who rightfully stood by his side.

Rex’s gaze darkened when he saw me. "We'll talk later, Chloe."

He shot me a warning look, then steered Victoria past me toward an urgent meeting.

I didn't say a word.

That afternoon, I finished the final tasks at the gallery alone. The whole space felt cavernous and empty, but one thing hadn't changed: Rex's absence.

In the past, whenever he promised to visit, I’d wait for him before starting my work. I wasn't waiting anymore. I was determined to see this through on my own.

By the time I locked the doors that evening, Rex still hadn't shown up.

I felt no anger. I had already wasted five years. Why would I cling to this last, faint glimmer of hope?

As for the commission, his assistant had already emailed. Canceled. Whether Rex had approved the cancellation or was even aware of it was irrelevant. The outcome was the same. I was leaving.