The CEO's Ex-Wife

Freedom

Chapter 3

Jason's Point of View

My fingers were clumsy and thick, fumbling against the car door until it finally gave way. I slumped inside and just sat, my forehead pressed onto the steering wheel's cool leather. The engine stayed off. The only sound was my own-ragged breathing and that single, pounding word in my skull: Why?

Why would she hurt him? My grandfather adored her. He kept a bowl of those hard butter candies just for her visits, calling her his “favorite girl.” He was no threat to anyone. So what was the reason? What did she possibly gain?

I couldn't stay in that house another second with the ghost of what just happened. I started the car and left, tires screeching on the pavement, with no destination in mind. Anywhere was better than there, with the image of her standing so still and cold while my life shattered around me.

Who had she become? The Jennifer I remembered was gentle. A bit reserved. She’d leave a fresh pot of coffee on my desk if I was working late. She sent flowers to my mother’s grave every year. When did that person turn into someone capable of… this? I knew there was tension with Lucy, sure. But to go this far? To set her up for something so terrible? It was unthinkable.

We didn't marry for love, not at first. It was more of a merger, something to make both our families happy. But it was comfortable. We found a routine. I made sure she wanted for nothing…a black card, a luxury sedan, a mansion with a view. Wasn't that what she wanted? Apparently not. I guess “everything” to her was just a down payment.

A rough, broken laugh escaped me. I’d been a fool. She wasn't cherishing me. She was appraising me. Totaling up my net worth. Had the affection in her eyes ever been real, or just a trick of the light reflecting my portfolio?

Up ahead, a club's neon sign bled color into the dark. I turned sharply into the lot. Why not? Tonight was for celebrating. I was rid of a fraud. Free of a criminal. That deserved a drink. Several.

Inside, the bass was a physical vibration in my chest. Strobe lights cut through the haze, turning people into jerky silhouettes. A woman materialized beside me at the bar, her dress like a crimson s***h. Her mouth moved near my ear. “Can I get you something?”

I didn't answer. I just caught the bartender’s eye and tapped the bar next to the top-shelf whiskey. The glass appeared. I knocked it back, the fire in my throat a welcome distraction. I pointed to another.

This was victory. I was out from under a manipulator and a thief. I lifted the fresh glass toward the smoky air. “To freedom,” I mumbled. The words were ash on my tongue.

But in the fleeting silence between songs, the rage would falter. Underneath was a raw, confusing ache. If it was only about money, why involve my grandfather? The math didn't add up. None of it did. The only clear fact was this: the woman I'd lived with, slept beside, was a complete stranger. That realization was the most unsettling one of all.

---

The noise was an attack. A shrill, relentless drilling right into my temple. I moaned, burying my face in the pillow. “Jennifer,” I rasped. “Turn it off. C’mon.”

Quiet. Then the alarm screamed again.

I flung an arm out across the bed, searching for the familiar curve of her waist, her warmth. My palm met cool, smooth linen.

My eyes snapped open.

The other half of the bed was pristine, untouched. Sleep and alcohol drained away, replaced by a nauseating drop in my stomach.

Jennifer was gone. I’d ended it. I’d told her to leave.

A sudden, vivid memory: the cruel twist of my words. Nancy and Lucy circling her like sharks. A hot spike of something that felt dangerously like regret hit me square in the chest. I smothered it instantly.

“Stop it,” I barked at the empty room. The sound was swallowed by the stillness. “She’s a con artist. She’s gone. Be glad.”

I got up. On what used to be her dresser sat a simple manila envelope. On top of it, her wedding band. The morning sun hit the diamond, but it gave no sparkle. It looked inert. Finished.

I picked it up. The metal was warm. I remembered her finger, so slender. The day I put the ring on, she hadn’t smiled. She’d just looked at me with a deep, sober focus, as if she was accepting a solemn duty. I’d felt the weight of that look for days.

I let the ring fall. Enough.

A cold shower did nothing to clear the haze. Choosing clothes was a task I suddenly couldn’t manage. I faced my closet, a wall of fine fabric, and my mind went blank. Which shirt? This tie or that one?

Jennifer handled this. Every evening, like clockwork, my outfit for the next day would appear on the valet stand. Perfectly coordinated. My coffee would be steaming just as I finished dressing.

“Pull yourself together,” I hissed, grabbing the first tie my hand touched. I messed up the knot three times before it was passable.

Downstairs, the quiet was oppressive. It wasn't peaceful; it was dead. The kitchen was sterile. No rich smell of brewing coffee, no sizzle from the stove, no quiet clatter of dishes.

James was a silent statue by the sideboard. “Breakfast, sir? I have pancakes prepared.”

He placed a plate before me at the head of the table. I looked at the chair beside mine, the one she always used. Jennifer insisted I eat. “Fuel for the day, Jason,” she’d say, sliding the juice glass closer. It used to feel like nagging. Now, the absence of it was a void.

I took a single bite. The food was bland, turning to paste in my mouth. I set the fork down.

This was what I wanted. My liberation. So why did it feel like a loss? I wasn't free. I was adrift. A complete disaster.

I looked at James, who was studying a spot on the wall with intense interest.

“James.”

“Sir?”

“I need you to find her.” The command was out before I could think, stripped bare and desperate. “Whatever it costs. However you do it. Locate Jennifer. I have to know where she is.”

“Right away, sir.”

He disappeared, and the quiet rushed back in, louder than before. I shoved the plate aside and collapsed into an armchair, dragging my hands over my face.

The house was a gallery of missing things. The sunlight fell wrong without her vase on the side table. The air carried no trace of her subtle perfume. Just empty, echoing space.

I’d fought so hard to be free, only to lock myself in a prison of my own design. And now, the only thought in my head was to find the woman I’d forced out the door.