His Ninety Ninth Broken Promise

He handed me a commission contract. "It's an exclusive commission from an artist I greatly admire," he said, his tone softening. "Let's have dinner tonight to celebrate." It was a clear olive branch.

I hesitated, then took the contract. He owed me this much, at least.

Seeing my continued silence, Rex opened his mouth to say more, but a piercing ringtone cut him off.

I watched him hurry out of the room. It was obviously Victoria. Only she could make him drop everything without a second thought.

Before leaving for the day, I printed the gallery’s closure notice and handed it to my mentor, Marcus Thorne.

He was stunned. "You're closing the gallery? Is this because of Mr. Blackwood?"

I pressed my lips together, a flicker of dark amusement rising in me. Everyone assumed I was giving up my career because I couldn’t handle Rex's neglect.

They didn't know I was leaving because there was nothing left of my heart to break.

When I simply nodded, he let out a long, weary sigh and signed the notice.

As I was leaving the gallery, I nearly collided with Rex and Victoria. It wasn't just my assistants—the entire New York financial world saw her as the woman who rightfully stood by his side.

Rex’s gaze darkened when he saw me. "We'll talk later, Chloe."

He shot me a warning look, then steered Victoria past me toward an urgent meeting.

I didn't say a word.

That afternoon, I finished the final tasks at the gallery alone. The whole space felt cavernous and empty, but one thing hadn't changed: Rex's absence.

In the past, whenever he promised to visit, I’d wait for him before starting my work. I wasn't waiting anymore. I was determined to see this through on my own.

By the time I locked the doors that evening, Rex still hadn't shown up.

I felt no anger. I had already wasted five years. Why would I cling to this last, faint glimmer of hope?

As for the commission, his assistant had already emailed. Canceled. Whether Rex had approved the cancellation or was even aware of it was irrelevant. The outcome was the same. I was leaving.