Chapter 4 A Clean Break

Myra stumbled backward, her designer heels scraping harshly against the pavement. She staggered under the imposing aura radiating from the woman before her. She stared in disbelief, her mind racing to comprehend the shift. What on earth had happened to the meek, obedient daughter-in-law who used to swallow every insult without a single peep?

Recovering her senses, Myra gritted her teeth. The humiliation of being talked down to in public burned her cheeks. "You think you can speak to me like that?" she hissed, desperate to regain the upper hand. "I am going to call Kingston right now! I will force him to divorce you. I will have you kicked out of the illustrious Thorne family, and I will make sure you starve on the streets!"

Rowena merely sneered. Her eyes held profound contempt, stripping away any lingering respect she once held for the older woman. "You're a bit late," Rowena said, her voice dripping with ice. "Just ten minutes ago, I legally finalized my divorce from Kingston. From this moment onward, I will never again take a single step into the Thorne residence, even if you were to drop to your knees and beg me."

Myra's jaw dropped. Dubious of this confident claim, she pulled her phone from her designer handbag. Her manicured fingers frantically dialed her son's number to verify the outrageous news. She tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for him to pick up.

"Kingston!" Myra barked the second the line connected, not caring who heard her. "Did you actually divorce that woman?"

Over the line, Kingston's deep voice sounded tired, carrying a rough edge. "Yes. It was finalized a moment ago. How did you know?"

Myra let out a loud crow of delight. "Oh, this is wonderful! Thrilling!" She glared at Rowena, though her son couldn't see the venom in her expression. "That lowly woman of unknown origins is finally eradicated from our elite family tree! She should have crawled back to whatever gutter she came from years ago!"

On the other end of the line, Kingston pressed his lips into a tight line. He didn't share his mother's joy. Instead of relief, his chest swamped with a sudden surge of irritation and unsettling guilt. He had expected Rowena to fight the divorce proceedings tooth and nail. He had even prepared a hefty financial settlement—a lavish mansion in the suburbs and three million in cash—to buy her compliance. Yet, she was the one who proposed the split. She walked away, demanding nothing from the Thorne estate.

Why would she leave with nothing? Kingston rationalized his swirling emotions, pushing the guilt down. *She is just playing a game,* he figured, gripping his phone tighter. *She will come crawling back. She has no money and no family support to lean on. The second she hits a wall in the real world, she will seek me out.*

Meanwhile, unbothered by Myra's gloating and toxic energy, Rowena hailed a taxi and returned straight to the sprawling Thorne mansion. She wasted no time. She headed straight to the master bedroom to pack her personal luggage. She was eager to vacate the suffocating premises that housed her bitter suffering for the past three years. She folded her few meager belongings, ignoring the expensive jewelry Kingston had bought her, zipping up her suitcase with a sharp sense of finality.

Lugging her packed bags, Rowena headed downstairs. Her mind focused on the future ahead of her, but a flash of snow-white fabric caught her eye. She startled to find Bianca Loxley waiting in the grand living room. Kingston's esteemed first love was seated on the plush sofa, legs crossed, looking right at home amidst the luxurious decor.

The sharp realization hit Rowena like a physical blow to the chest. Kingston had already handed Bianca the spare key. They had just signed the divorce papers moments ago, and he had practically moved his former flame in. Repulsion flooded Rowena's being, making her stomach churn. The air in the mansion felt thicker, more toxic than before. However, she masked her disgust, maintaining an elegant, unbothered smile as her shoes clicked against the bottom step.

Bianca stood up, beaming with innocent sweetness. Her dress fluttered as she stepped forward, delivering a malicious barb disguised as a greeting. "It has been a while, Rowena," she chirped. "You know, your aura is resembling the mistress of the Thorne family more every day." Bianca paused, letting out a soft, rehearsed gasp as she pretended to catch herself in a mistake. "Oh, my apologies! I forgot. You are already divorced from King. You no longer hold the title of Mrs. Thorne."

Refusing to allow the other woman to assert false dominance over the situation, Rowena's smile remained airy and detached. She didn't flinch at the jab. "Kingston Thorne is a man I am sick of," Rowena retorted, her voice smooth and unyielding. "Since you love to scavenge other people's rejects so much, you are more than welcome to have him."

Bianca's sweet expression faltered, her eye twitching, but Rowena didn't give her a chance to speak. Rowena capped off her insult, her tone dripping with mock concern. "Though, I would advise you not to act too hastily. You wouldn't want to publicly embarrass yourself by looking like a desperate third-party intervening in someone else's marriage before the ink is even dry."

That precise remark shattered Bianca's crafted innocent facade. The sweet smile vanished, replaced by a mask of pure hatred. Snarling with venom, Bianca took a threatening step forward, dropping the polite act.

"King and I love each other deeply!" Bianca claimed, her voice turning shrill and defensive. "If it weren't for you three years ago, we would have been married ages ago. You are the true third party who deserves universal disdain!"

Rowena cast Bianca a mocking, pitying look. The delusion was almost laughable. "Very soon, you will discover who exactly the real third party is," Rowena coldly promised, refusing to elaborate further.

Having delivered her final piece of mind, Rowena circled around the seething woman. She gripped the handle of her suitcase tighter, ready to make her exit from the Thorne family's life once and for all. But before she could take another step toward the door, Bianca lunged forward.

Bianca's fingers grabbed Rowena's wrist, her manicured nails digging into the skin. In the blink of an eye, the venomous snarl on Bianca's face vanished without a trace. Her eyes grew red-rimmed and pitiful, mimicking a wounded, helpless animal.

"I am so sorry, Rowena!" Bianca launched into a loud, theatrical, tearful apology. Her voice echoed off the high ceilings of the living room, designed to carry. "I only meant well! I just came to visit you because I have always considered you my best friend! I didn't mean to upset you! Please don't be mad at me!"

Amused by how fast the woman could change her tune, Rowena snorts in sheer disgust. The performance was nauseating. Without a second thought, Rowena moved her arm to shake off the clinging, unwanted grip.

The very moment Rowena moved, Bianca let out a piercing shriek of pain. She collapsed weakly to the hard marble floor in concert with Rowena's movement. Bianca staged the angle of her fall perfectly. From behind, it looked exactly as though Rowena had shoved her with unbridled force.

Rowena stood frozen for a fraction of a second, watching this pathetic, self-directed show with cold eyes. She didn't reach out to help the weeping woman on the floor. Instead, she deduced the true reason for the dramatic act. She sensed a presence behind her. Kingston had returned home. He was standing directly at the grand entrance, taking in the manufactured scene before him.

Sure enough, a split second later, the man's enraged bellow rang out from behind her.

"What are you doing?"