Chapter 4A New Decade Begins with a Bottle of Perfume

Thinking I was just throwing a tantrum, Nathaniel booked out the city's largest luxury perfume boutique.

Isabelle posted another nine-photo carousel on Instagram. In the photos, she was smiling radiantly, a wall of perfume displays behind her. The caption read: [Some people are just born unworthy of the best. They only deserve secondhand things.]

Nathaniel had always been the one in control.

In our relationship, all he had to do was be himself. I would automatically fill in the gaps, make the excuses.

Just like ten years ago. Even though he knew I just wanted to commemorate my first role, even though he knew I bought that perfume with my own money.

He still had to crush my spirit.

At my moment of greatest happiness, he had to put me in my place, to remind me: “You are not worthy.”

He needed to call me vain, to watch me feel guilty, to wait for me to apologize.

In the beginning, our friends warned him to back off, not to push me too far.

But over time, he became known in our circle as a master at managing his wife. At dinners, men would ask him for his secret to keeping a woman so devoted.

He would take a sip of his wine and smile coolly. “Give her a taste of sweetness at her moment of deepest despair, and she will see you as her savior. After that, no matter what you do wrong, she will find a way to forgive you on her own.”

Nathaniel was no fool when it came to people.

He had spent his life reading others, and he knew exactly how to exploit a person’s vulnerabilities. He had practiced on me for a decade.

And it had worked.

So he watched Isabelle’s post go live, watched the likes and comments roll in, knowing he didn’t have to lift a finger. Mutual friends would soon be calling me, acting as his messengers.

All he had to do was wait for me to come to him, head bowed in apology.

And so he waited.

Nathaniel waited for two weeks. He didn't get my apology. Instead, he got a letter from my lawyer.

“Mr. Knight.”

My attorney sat across from him, pushing a folder across the table.

“This is the share transfer agreement Ms. Hayes has asked me to handle. She is requesting to purchase your 35% stake in the studio at market value. If we do not receive a response within one week, we will file a motion with the court to compel the sale.”

Nathaniel stared at the documents, his fingers tightening into a fist.

“Where is she?”

“Ms. Hayes has gone abroad to clear her head.”

The lawyer smiled politely. “As for her destination, I’m afraid I can’t disclose that.”

“Clear her head?” Nathaniel shot to his feet.

“She just had a termination two weeks ago, and she’s flying abroad to ‘clear her head’? Is she trying to kill herself?”