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The next morning at eight sharp, Yolanda arrived to pick Ian up. With fingerprint access to his place, she let herself in without a second thought.
She set the breakfast she’d brought on the kitchen counter. Their call time was ten, and with no signs of him downstairs, she knocked on the master bedroom door. “Ian? You up?” she asked.
To her surprise, the door wasn’t latched, and her gentle push made it swing open. Ahead, the ensuite bathroom’s sliding door stood slightly open, the sound of running water drifting out, along with low, muffled groans.
Yolanda froze. Through the steam, she caught a glimpse of Ian–his toned frame, his head tilted back, and water sluicing down his body. She stumbled backward, her hip smacking into the dresser hard enough to make her wince.
Ian’s eyes flew open at the noise. Through the haze of the shower, he turned and spotted Yolanda hovering in the doorway.
Her face burned. She ducked her head and bolted.
The water kept running. Ian’s muscles tensed under the spray. He looked down and dragged a hand through his wet hair, droplets flying as he reached for a towel.
After drying off, he caught his reflection in the fogged mirror: jaw clenched, and something too sharp to name flickering in his eyes.
Downstairs, Yolanda sat stiffly on the couch, her pulse still hammering. In all her life, she’d never walked in on a man like that. Her skin burned, and her thoughts tangled into knots.
She’d always treated Ian as just her friend, completely ignoring how charming he was. But the image of him, water–slicked and sinfully built, burned behind her eyelids. She groaned, thumping her forehead with her palm.
A movement in her periphery made Yolanda glance up. Ian was coming downstairs, unusually quiet–not that he was ever talkative, but today, the silence felt deliberate. Like he was avoiding her after the bathroom incident.
Heat prickled her neck. She scratched her cheek, staring at the floor. “Hey, uh, sorry about before. I thought you’d still be asleep. Didn’t mean to walk in on you showering. Well, I’ll drive you to the set. We’ll leave by ten.”
Ian just slid into a chair, shoulders rigid as he unpacked the breakfast she’d brought without a
word.
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Chapter 28
:
:>))
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Yolanda took a steadying breath. “Look, morning energy is totally normal. My bad for not calling first. Next time, I’ll make sure you know before I come.”
“It’s fine,” he cut in, voice low.
She exhaled, relief loosening her shoulders. Then, almost against her will, a wry thought flickered through her mind. ‘Twenty–three–year–olds and their endless stamina. Between his boxing routines, that unfairly perfect face, and–well–everything else, some lucky woman’s going to have her hands full someday.’
By now, Yolanda had pulled herself together–hair neatly tied back, that fleeting blush long faded, her usual sweet–but–sharp composure firmly in place.
She slid into the chair beside him, watching as he picked at his food with deliberate slowness. An amused smile tugged at her lips. “Alright, let’s get you to the set.”
Ian paused mid–bite, his eyes flickering to hers like he wanted to say something. But after a beat, he just pressed his lips together and nodded.
It wasn’t until they were in the car that Yolanda realized why he’d hesitated.
The film crew was shooting on location for a fantasy drama, which meant the first month of production would take place almost entirely in the mountains. And the drive there would take a solid four hours at least.
She pinched the bridge of her nose. Last night, when she’d asked him about the schedule, he’d been vague. And like an idiot, she’d agreed without thinking it through.
Ian buckled himself into the passenger seat, his voice carefully neutral. “If it’s too much
trouble-”
The way he said it made it impossible for her to back out now. “No trouble at all,” she cut in, forcing cheer into her tone. “Pack whatever you need. I’m your agent and assistant now, remember? This is literally my job.”
A faint smirk curled at the corner of his mouth. “Okay.”
Yolanda leaned against the car, arms crossed, as she watched him haul out his suitcase and backpack. With his casual clothes and slightly tousled hair, he really did look like some college kid heading out on a trip.
Ian tossed his bags into the backseat before sliding into the passenger side again.
They were about to spend over four hours in the car, so when Yolanda passed a convenience store, she pulled over to grab some snacks.
She hadn’t been out much these past two years, and as she drove, she couldn’t help but notice
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Chapter 28
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the changes along the roadside. Spring had painted the city in bursts of color, flowers blooming in patches she didn’t recognize.
“When did they plant all these? I don’t remember this section being so… floral,” she asked.
“Two years ago,” Ian said simply.
Yolanda pursed her lips, forcing a tight smile. Just then, her phone rang. She pulled over to answer it, catching a glimpse of Ian stepping out of the car in her periphery.
It was the maid from Moonbay Estate. “Mrs. Sinclair, your wedding anniversary is the day after tomorrow. Should we decorate like last time?”
Last year, Yolanda had gone all out–candlelit dinners, fresh flowers, and the whole estate transformed into something out of a dream.
But Charles never showed. He’d claimed it was for a last–minute business trip, though she later learned he’d been with Sophie. All she got was an emerald necklace sent in his absence.
This year, he hadn’t even mentioned the date. He must have forgotten, so she brushed it off. “No,” she said flatly.
“Should we still prepare the cake ingredients?” the maid asked.
A bitter taste rose in her throat. Last year, she’d spent weeks perfecting a homemade cake, even taking decorating classes just to get it right. But he didn’t come.
Like so many other things–massages, creams, and elaborate meals–she’d learned them all for him. And for what? He was never home.
She just answered, “Don’t bother. I’ll be busy. We’ll discuss it later.”
The maid hesitated. Last year, Yolanda had started planning a month in advance, while now, she wouldn’t even acknowledge it. The maid couldn’t imagine what mattered more to Yolanda than Charles.
Yolanda hung up, exhaling slowly as she leaned back in her seat. Funny how things changed. Fifteen years of loving him, and she’d once believed she’d never walk away.
But here she was, letting go, piece by piece. At least now, his absence didn’t keep her up at night. At least now, she no longer ached for his touch or hug.
She sighed, lost in thought, until a burst of color caught her eye. A bouquet appeared, bright and vivid, like spring itself held in the hands.
For a moment, she just stared. Then lan’s face emerged from behind the blooms. “An old lady was selling these down the road,” he said. “Said she grew them. Figured if I bought some, she
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Chapter 28
could pack up early.”
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The words snapped her back to the present. She took the flowers, lips quirking. “That’s the most I’ve ever heard you say at once.”
Ian slid into the passenger seat, buckling up without another word.
Yolanda bent to inhale the sweet, fresh scent. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the sharp line of his throat, the way his Adam’s apple moved as he settled back.
The awkward memory flickered, sudden and unbidden. Her breath hitched. Flustered, she tossed the bouquet aside and hit the gas.
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Chapter 29
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
Part 1: The Discovery of BetrayalYolanda Grant’s marriage was built on patience, sacrifice, and quiet endurance — but that illusion shattered in one night. It was late when she arrived at a dark, empty alley after receiving a mysterious message with an address. At first, she thought it was a misunderstanding. After all, her husband Charles Sinclair — a man of wealth, power, and refined taste — would never lower himself to something so vulgar. But when she saw him holding a young woman in his arms, kissing and touching her like a man possessed, every ounce of denial drained from her. Charles, the proud and disciplined businessman, was cheating — and in a filthy alleyway, no less.Part 2: The Scene of HumiliationFrom the safety of her car, Yolanda watched as the scene unfolded. The woman clinging to Charles was frail, trembling, and emotional, like a flower blooming in the mud. The surroundings — the stained floor, damp walls, and suffocating darkness — mocked everything Charles had always claimed to be. This wasn’t just infidelity; it was degradation. Yolanda’s mind swirled with disbelief. Her husband, who obsessed over class and perfection, had become a man of impulse and dirt. She didn’t confront him or make a scene; she didn’t even cry. Instead, she leaned back in her seat, numb, realizing that her marriage was already over in spirit.Part 3: Two Years of DevotionAs she sat there, flashes of the past flooded her mind. Two years of marriage — two years of her trying to please him in every way. She had known from the start that Charles didn’t love her. On their wedding day, he had made it painfully clear that his heart already belonged to another woman. Still, Yolanda married him out of hope, out of love, out of the foolish belief that devotion could melt even the coldest heart. She gave up her career, her ambitions, and her independence, just to prove she was worthy of him. She cared for him like a nurse for her patient — cooking his meals, planning his wardrobe, and tending to every detail of his life. And in return, she got nothing but distance and silence.Part 4: The Breaking PointNow, watching him entwined with another woman, everything she had built inside her — the patience, the sacrifice, the illusion — collapsed. The man she had once called her husband had become unrecognizable. He had torn off his noble mask and revealed himself as nothing more than a beast driven by desire. Yolanda felt like she’d been slapped, her dignity shattered into pieces. But instead of screaming or crying, she felt an eerie calm. Her pain was too deep to express. All she could think was: This marriage must end.Part 5: Charles’s UneaseWhile Yolanda drove home, Charles suddenly sensed that something was wrong. The headlights of a passing car illuminated his face, and a chill ran down his spine. He didn’t know whose car it was, but unease stirred in his chest. The girl in his arms whimpered for his attention, but his mind was already elsewhere. Straightening his clothes, he pulled away coldly. “That’s enough for tonight,” he said flatly. “The company’s got big projects. I can’t afford divorce rumors right now.” His words revealed not love, but calculation — every move guided by image and control. The girl, blinded by her feelings, agreed softly, claiming she would wait. But to Charles, it was just another temporary indulgence.Part 6: The Return HomeWhen Yolanda returned home, the villa felt colder than ever. She had just come out of the shower when Charles entered the bedroom, carrying his jacket. He looked as immaculate as always — tall, handsome, commanding — but tonight, his arrogance seemed cruel. On his pristine white shirt, Yolanda noticed a faint smear of pink lip gloss. She had never worn lip gloss; she hated its stickiness. That small, shiny mark told her everything she needed to know. As she dried her hair, she kept her expression neutral, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing her pain.Part 7: The Cold ConversationCharles glanced at her and asked casually, “When did you get back?”“This afternoon,” she replied.He loosened his tie, unbuttoning his shirt as if nothing had happened. “I was out playing golf tonight,” he added. The lie rolled off his tongue effortlessly. Through the reflection in the window, Yolanda saw the dirt on his back — proof that golf wasn’t the only game he’d been playing. With quiet fury, she shot back, “Then I guess you scored plenty of holes. Congrats.”Her sarcasm caught him off guard. For the first time, he frowned, slightly unsettled. He wasn’t used to this tone from her — the woman who once worshiped him now sounded indifferent, almost mocking.Part 8: His Cruel ArroganceInstead of apologizing, Charles smirked and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Are you mad? I told you when we got married that I didn’t love you. If you’re that unhappy, find someone else to cheat with.” His words cut through her like a blade. It wasn’t just betrayal anymore — it was humiliation. He treated her heartbreak as an inconvenience, as if her pain were irrelevant. Inside, Yolanda’s chest felt like it was being strangled with wire, every breath searing. Yet she stayed silent. Her quietness, once a sign of love, now turned into armor.Part 9: The Memory of InnocenceIn that moment, Yolanda’s mind drifted back to when she first met Charles. She was young, freshly adopted into the Grant family, and he was already the picture of perfection — disciplined, confident, untouchable. Back then, she looked at him with admiration and love. To her, he was everything she aspired to be. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that this same man would someday make her feel worthless. All those years of love, of marriage, of giving — they now felt like a cruel joke.Part 10: A New Beginning Hidden in the Word “Fine”Charles chuckled when she finally said, “Fine.” To him, it was just another empty threat, another outburst that would fade with time. He kissed her cheek, confident that her love would keep her shackled to him forever. What he didn’t realize was that this time, “Fine” wasn’t surrender — it was goodbye. Behind her calm eyes, Yolanda had already made her decision. The love that once bound her had turned to ash, and from that ash, something new was forming — strength.Chapter 1 ends with Yolanda’s quiet determination to take back her life. She won’t cry or beg anymore. This time, she’ll walk away — not as a broken wife, but as a woman reborn through betrayal.
