One Fake Headshot, Our Final Farewell

Chapter 6 Can't Go on Anymore

The name "Mrs. Harding" stung my heart.

Robert didn't deny it. He just let the silence speak for itself.

I used to think that even if he didn't love me anymore, he'd at least give me a decent way out.

But I was wrong. He couldn't even be bothered to fake that last bit of dignity.

"Loretta's allergic to alcohol, so you'll have to do the drinking. Once we sign this deal, I'll settle down and be a good husband to you." He gave my shoulder a gentle squeeze and murmured those words.

Looking at that flashy man, Mario Farrell, in his designer clothes, I felt a knot of unease in my stomach.

Mario raised his glass to me. "Robert, that's not cool. Monica's so gorgeous—why didn't you bring her out to hang with us sooner? We drink hard tonight, and the investment's no problem. I'll talk to my dad as soon as I get back—full support."

I stared at Robert. My whole body went cold.

He knew I was still recovering. The doctor had strictly forbidden even a single drop of alcohol.

But for a little profit, he turned me into a bargaining chip—shoved me right in front of these fair-weather friends.

Mario was clearly not reliable. His eyes were all over me, leering.

Everyone in the circle knew that Mario from the Farrell family had a thing for women who'd already had two or three kids. He could go through several women in one night.

I stood up to leave, but Robert grabbed my wrist. "Be good. Haven't you always wanted a divorce? Just help me close this deal—I'd even give you my life if you asked for it."

So that's what it came down to. A simple "be good" was all the reason he needed to push me off the edge.

Before he left, afraid I'd be too nervous to talk, he made sure to pour a strong drink down my throat.

"Take good care of Mario," he said.

The alcohol hit me. My head spun, and everything went blurry.

Just as Mario was about to slip his hand inside my shirt, I grabbed it.

But I was too weak. He pinned me down, and I couldn't move.

As I struggled, bottles tumbled off the table. The sound of shattering glass exploded in my ears.

Liquor splashed across my chest—freezing cold.

At that moment, I felt like all my strength was gone.

Then my parents' faces suddenly flashed in my mind.

They said, "Stand behind us. Don't open your eyes... Promise me you'll live."

In that instant, I found my strength again.

I shoved Mario off me with all my might and stumbled toward the door.

But just as I reached the bathroom corner, I heard the sound of water—intimate, suggestive.

Loretta asked, "Robert, are you really okay leaving Monica alone over there to entertain?"

Robert said, "You're just too kind. I already worked it out with Mario. What could possibly happen to her?"

A chill ran through my heart. I was about to keep running when a hand yanked me back.

In desperation, I rushed up to the rooftop.

The wind was strong. It tangled my hair and cooled the hot tears in my eyes.

I stood at the edge, looked down, and took a deep breath. "Mom, Dad—you once told me, 'Live a good life.' But I'm sorry. I... I really can't go on anymore."

I closed my eyes and jumped.

The wind roared past my ears. And in that moment, all the pain seemed to fall silent.