The Husband Who Stole My Designs

Chapter 9 Would All Be Over

Noelle, together with Zara, made her way back to Pearson Villa. Once inside her room, she pulled out her phone and scheduled a final letter to Oscar.

Zara's eyes welled up as she watched Noelle. Noelle's face was deathly pale. "Mrs. Pearson... please, you have to hold on."

"Hold on?" Noelle managed a weak smile, though her eyes held a strange glint. "I'm about to start a new life, aren't I?"

She reached for Zara's hand and gave it a light squeeze. "Can you bring me that white dress? I want to go out for a bit."

Zara hesitated. "But you just gave blood. The doctor said you need rest..."

But Noelle already put it on and stood in front of the mirror.

The white dress made her look fragile. In that moment, she knew one thing for certain: she didn't want to be Mrs. Pearson anymore. She wanted to find the woman she used to be.

She smiled at Zara and said goodbye. As soon as Zara left, Noelle pulled out the items she'd hidden—things that would help her disappear.

Just then, the wedding photo on the wall fell over. In it, Oscar smiled softly, holding her hand, the diamond on her finger catching the light.

Her chest tightened.

A flood of memories hit her—how he'd once run through a storm just to buy her medicine, how he'd wait up on nights she worked late, how he'd stood in front of the City Hall with red-rimmed eyes and promised she'd be the only one.

But promises like that? They didn't last.

She then left Pearson Villa and didn't look back. She hailed a cab and gave the driver one destination: Kallara Hotel.

Up on the rooftop, the wind was fierce. It pulled at her dress, made it dance.

She stood alone, forty-eight floors above the city. Below her, the banquet hall glowed with light.

Through the windows, she could hear Oscar's voice—warm, reverent. "Seren, this award is just the beginning. I'm going to make you the most celebrated designer out there."

Seren's voice then sounded. "And what about Noelle's other awards?"

Oscar laughed. It sliced through Noelle like a blade. "Those? They're all yours. She's an orphan with nothing. Vicious, bitter. What's she good for except being a stepping stone for you?"

Noelle closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, she stepped over the railing. Her white dress caught the wind like a flower—one that had finally chosen to let go.

She looked down at the cars below, tiny specks moving through the night. She smiled slightly.

If she slipped, it would all be over.

But she wasn't scared.

Dead or alive, at least she wouldn't be trapped next to Oscar anymore.

Oscar's celebration for Seren would become Noelle's funeral.

From this moment on, no matter what, they would never meet again.