A Symphony for Ruined Hands.

Julian returned with the speed of a CEO who’d been defied; when he cared, the distance across Manhattan was nothing.

He didn't rush back out of concern. For a man with his pathological need for control, a wife intentionally severing all contact was an intolerable act of defiance.

He didn't even glance at the pitifully small suitcase at my feet.

He strode over, carrying the faint scent of Ava's perfume.

"Thea, darling," his thumb brushed against my chin. "Why did you suddenly stop answering my calls? I couldn't reach you, and it made me very agitated."

I turned my head away, avoiding his touch. "I wanted to be alone."

Julian's hand was left hanging. He froze for a second, then smoothly wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

"Still angry about that photo?"

"Thea, you know Ava is just my chief of staff, an important team member who has worked hard for the group. As the CEO, I have the freedom to unwind with my subordinates."

"Those old geezers on the board are already biased against you because of your background," he sighed, his warm breath grazing my neck. "Don't get jealous over something so small. It makes you seem very insecure, hmm?"

Hearing this, my stomach churned, and a bitter laugh escaped my lips.

For all these years, this was how Julian controlled me: with a blade dipped in honey.

He would watch me swallow it and expect me to be grateful.

"Insecure?" I took a step back, breaking free from his embrace. "Our CEO must be a very busy man indeed. So busy he hasn't noticed his chief of staff playing the lady of the house all over New York."

The smile on Julian's face froze. "Thea, when did you become so sensitive?"

"It's not easy for an ambitious young woman like Ava to make it on Wall Street. You're my wife; you should be more understanding of her instead of listening to rumors. The last time you threw a fit at the board meeting over the approval authority, Ava cried all night and was still defending you."

He looked at me with reproach, as if I were the ungrateful sinner.

"I provide you with the best of everything, isn't it so you can be carefree? If you keep targeting Ava like this, I'll be very disappointed in you."

"Besides, your hand is so fragile. Intense emotional swings aren't good for your recovery."

"Thea, listen to me. You don't need to overthink things. Just follow Ava's arrangements and focus on your recovery."

I finally laughed out loud.

But there was no mirth in it, only ice.

Right in front of him, I yanked open the zipper of the suitcase at my feet.

"Carefree? The best of everything?"

"Julian, is this the love you give me?"

The suitcase gaped open, utterly empty.

There were only a few faded, shapeless old clothes inside.

The same clothes I had brought with me three years ago, when I first agreed to be his wife.

"I'm leaving, and I can't even find five decent outfits to wear out the door."

"In this so-called golden cage, I have to fill out an application just to get a haircut. Buying a new shade of lipstick depends on the mood of your precious chief of staff. Even the maids in this house have more cash on hand each month than this Mrs. Sterling of yours!"

Julian frowned. "Thea, don't exaggerate…"

I ignored him, grabbing the sleeve of his expensive custom suit and dragging him to the closed door of the vault.

I pointed to the flashing red light on the electronic lock.

"Go on, my devoted husband. You tell me how to open this."

"You need a password, a fingerprint, and then a remote authorization from our hardworking Ava!"

"What cherished wife has to live like a beggar, kneeling at the feet of her husband's subordinate to plead for every little thing!"

Julian stared at the electronic lock, his face a mask of confusion.

He turned his head, looking at me in disbelief. "Because of this?"

"Darling, you're making this huge scene, even threatening to leave, just because it's inconvenient to get money? Or… are you just jealous that Ava has so much power?"

Hearing those words, my heart turned to ice.

All my anger, all my grievances, were nothing more to him than a petty, materialistic wife throwing an unreasonable tantrum.

I let go of his sleeve and took a step back, the last flicker of hope dying in my eyes. "Forget it, Julian. What you think no longer matters."

"Let's get a divorce."