And just like that, he left, never glancing back—not even noticing the blood still trailing down my legs from the miscarriage. I stared at the closed door, a wave of coldness washing over me. For the first time, I didn’t chase after him. I didn’t beg or cry like I used to. Instead, I stood still, wondering what I had been holding onto all these years.
Three minutes later, a notification pinged on my phone. Sanz had sent me a voice message:
"I’ll explain everything about Cassandra, but don’t think you can run. Wherever you go, I’ll drag you back."
Hearing his words, a surge of sadness washed over me.
Eight years of unrequited love. Five years of marriage. And in the end, all I got was a threat.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. I sent a message to a lawyer I knew.
"Hello, I want to file for divorce, as soon as possible."
After handling that, I dragged my weakened body to the traffic police department. Even though I was acting tough, I was in big pain. I was hit by a car earlier.
The police then told me that they had found the car that hit me earlier—it was an unlicensed pink Maserati. When they showed me the surveillance footage, I recognized the familiar figure behind the wheel. A bitter laugh escaped my lips as I called up an old friend.
"Get some people together and help me settle a score. I’ll pay you 100,000 once it’s done."
I wasn’t going to let either the cheating scumbag or the reckless driver get away with it.
I had heard Cassandra used Sanz's money to open a beauty salon for high-end clients. When I arrived, parked right outside among the luxury cars was the unmistakable pink Maserati—the very car Cassandra had bought with the million dollars Sanz had "compensated" her with. And the first thing she did after getting that car was come after me.
My lips curled into a cold sneer as I turned to the security team I brought along.
"Smash it."
Without hesitation, they followed my command. Even before I finished speaking, the first hammer had already come crashing down, leaving a deep dent. The car alarm blared, drawing the attention of everyone inside the salon.
Soon, the clients came rushing outside, but not one of them dared to intervene. It seemed they were all well aware that Cassandra was nothing more than a shameless mistress. They kept their distance, silently watching.