He Comforts His Secretary and Denies Cheating

I didn’t take my eyes off Endrick.

“You gave your secretary the code to our front door—while I was taking my meds and getting ready for bed! You let her barge into our bedroom to grab your things! And after I called the police, you didn’t even ask if I was okay—you just wanted me to sign that Withdrawal of Complaint!”

“We’re over, Endrick! Completely over!”

I was furious.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep my expression under control. All the calm I’d tried to maintain crumbled in an instant.

I watched as his face shifted, the guilt flashing in his eyes. And then, just as quickly, he recovered and began justifying himself.

“I didn’t know you’d be home from your business trip! Chairman Bechtel set that whole thing up, how could I say no? I had to ask Brenna to grab the stuff for me—it wasn’t personal! Why are you making this such a big deal?!”

“Damn it, Olivine!” Disappointment filled his face as he looked at me. “When did you become this jealous, this petty? You latch onto baseless things and refuse to let go!”

“To be honest,” he said with a scoff, “no man would like someone like you!”

I truly thought I had no more tears left to cry.

From the moment I signed the written statement at the police station to sitting in the car with him afterward, I’d stayed composed—graceful, even. I upheld the manners and poise I was raised with. I’d even quietly revisited every memory we shared during that car ride.

And in the end?

I came to a conclusion.

I wanted to end things with dignity.

But Endrick’s cold accusations shattered me. His blame, his disappointment—it tore straight through me. And before I knew it, the tears came pouring down, uncontrollable, like a string of pearls breaking loose and scattering everywhere.

“Right,” I choked, “no man would like someone like me.”

But I held my chin up. “And that’s fine. I don’t need you to like me either.”

I wiped away my tears and turned to leave. But then, Brenna Compton grabbed my wrist.

She was crying too—crying even harder than me—while apologizing over and over.

“Olivine… I swear I didn’t mean it! Please don’t be mad at Endrick anymore. I-I’ll resign tomorrow. I’ll disappear really soon! He really loves you. Please, don’t make him suffer like this…”

I couldn’t stand women like Brenna—two-faced and exaggeratedly sweet. Watching her sob until she could barely breathe was so hilarious I actually stopped crying.

I yanked my hand free and snapped.

“Get lost!”

She fell to the ground from the force, looking up at me in shock.

“Olivine!”

Endrick rushed over to help her up, his heart obviously aching for her. When he saw her scraped palm, he turned and yelled at me.

“Are you insane?! Apologize to Brenna!”

“Keep dreaming.”

I glanced at Endrick then at Brenna, who couldn’t even hide the smug little glint in her eyes.

“If you won’t agree to a divorce,” I said coldly, “then we’ll settle this in court.”

With that, I turned on my heel and walked out. I didn’t look back, didn’t stop to listen to Brenna’s sobs or Endrick calling me crazy as he tried to comfort her.

I continued on my tracks and called a cab straight to my best friend’s place.

Nikki Acuff didn’t ask questions.

She just let me inside, walked to the fridge, and pulled out dozens of bottles of beer she’d been saving. After lining them all up on the table, she looked at me and asked just one thing.

“Is this enough?”

My throat tightened as I looked at her, my eyes suddenly brimming with tears.

Seeing me like that, she opened her arms to me.

“Hug?” she asked softly.

That broke me. I collapsed into her arms, sobbing like a toddler. I cried until my voice cracked, until my body shook, until I was curled up on the bathroom floor throwing up, until the entire world felt like it was spinning.

In the end, I told her what I wanted.

“I want a divorce!” I cried desperately. “I want a divorce!”

And then, I balled my hands into fists, cursing, “I want Endrick to rot in hell!”

So what is the end of love, really?

It’s when two people who once swore to fight the world together turn their knives on each other instead—desperate to see who can cut deeper.

It’s when you once longed to step into the grave of marriage and still dreamed that grave would bloom with flowers—until you finally realize that even roses, in the end, will wither.