Chapter 6

I pulled the SIM card from my phone, my fingers steady despite the storm raging inside me.

Without hesitation, I tossed it into the airport trash can. Then, without looking back, I boarded the plane.

On the other side of the world, Atlas stood atop a secluded mountain estate, watching the sun dip below the horizon.

Beside him, Ivy smiled, her delicate fingers adjusting a loose strand of her hair.

Just as Atlas reached out to fix it for her, his phone rang. Annoyed, he pulled it out, his brows furrowing at the unfamiliar number. “Mr. Whitmore, your wife… she’s gone.”

His hand stilled midair. The warm glow of the sunset cast long shadows, but the sudden chill in his veins made him feel as if the temperature had dropped several degrees.

“Gone?” His voice was sharp, controlled. “What do you mean?”

The person on the other end hesitated, then spoke with clear apprehension.

“The nurses said she left in the middle of the night. And she left a document behind… You should see it for yourself.”

Atlas’s grip on his phone tightened. “What document?”

A pause—“a divorce agreement.”

The words landed like a physical blow. His chest constricted, his heartbeat a slow, forceful thud against his ribs.

He had to have misheard. Or maybe this was some kind of joke. Celeste wouldn’t do this.

Even if she was angry, even if she refused to apologize, she wouldn’t take things this far.

Beside him, Ivy’s expression flickered with something unreadable–something sharp and dangerous–but it disappeared in an instant.

reached for his sleeve, her voice

did something happen to her?” she asked, tilting her head just slightly, feigning innocence. “Let me come with you, Atlas. Maybe there’s something I can do to

barely acknowledged her, nodding once before turning on his heel and striding down the mountain path.

deep scowl had settled onto his face, his usual controlled composure

her delicate fingers brushing against his chest in

worry,” she murmured. “I’m sure Celeste is fine.”

22:33

of Love, Seven

69.3%

Chapter 6

moment her hands made contact, irritation flared in Atlas’s chest. His patience was already worn thin, and Ivy’s touch only

sharp frown, he brushed her

“Enough,” he muttered.

at him, unsettled. He had never rejected her

palm as she turned her attention to her phone, sending

“Don’t worry. It’s

suite, the tension was

rigidly in his chair, his

a patient–let alone the wife of

the door swung open, the atmosphere dropped several

a heavy

abruptly, wringing his

is she?” Atlas’s voice was dangerously quiet, a sharp contrast to the fury simmering beneath his skin.

him a thin stack

flickered down. The words stared back

*Divorce Agreement*

his fingers as he flipped to the last page, and there it was—-Celeste’s

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