Leaving Him Was Her New Beginning

Millicent, sensing that Odette might miss her post, intentionally tagged her.

Odette responded with a soft, indifferent smile, liking Millicent’s post without a second thought.

The day before, they’d exchanged WhatsApp contacts during the negotiation for the fender-bender compensation, but Odette had used her work account.

Benedict didn’t have her work account saved.

When they arrived at the French restaurant, Millicent sent Odette a message. [Do you believe I can make him come running to me with just one phone call?]

Odette casually remarked, “This car is surprisingly sturdy. I got into a small collision yesterday after work.”

Benedict’s gaze snapped up, concerned about flooding his eyes. “Are you okay? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

“It’s nothing. Just a scratch on the car,” Odette reassured him, shaking her head lightly.

"Who dared lay a hand on you? If anything had happened, I wouldn’t let them get away with it!" Benedict said coldly, his voice sharp.

Watching the man who still seemed to care for her as much as ever, Odette felt a cold shiver crawl down her spine.

How could he deceive her so effortlessly, all while tangled up with another woman?

While she spent her time in operating rooms, saving lives, was Benedict out there, indulging in pleasures and distractions elsewhere?

"It's nothing. Can we just go home? The crabapple flowers..."

But before she could finish, Benedict’s phone buzzed. His expression darkened as he took the call. "Alright, I’ll be there right away.”

"Odette, one of the shareholders, pulled out. I need to go back to the company immediately. If you're not hungry anymore, I'll have the driver take you home first, okay?"

His coaxing was filled with anxiety, and Odette gave a weak nod.

After he left, Odette opened the location-tracking app on her phone.

The map showed that Benedict hadn’t gone to the company at all.

He had gone to one of the hotels he often frequented.

“Madam, would you still like to dine at the French restaurant?” the driver asked.

“Yes,” Odette replied, her voice steady as she stepped out of the car and entered the restaurant.

The waiter presented the dishes Benedict had ordered in advance, but the first bite left a bitter taste in her mouth.

She placed her spoon down, the meal suddenly unappetizing, and picked up the phone.

“Hello, may I ask if VIP Suite 888 is occupied tonight?” she asked the hotel’s front desk.

“Of course! That’s Mr. Evander’s exclusive suite. He even sometimes brings his wife here,” the receptionist responded, her tone laced with excitement.

“What does his wife look like?” Odette asked, her voice deceptively calm.

Each question she asked felt like a knife twisting deeper into her heart.

It felt like a slow, relentless death, each word a sharp cut, each moment an agonizing reminder of her helplessness.

Odette had spent her life-saving others, performing surgeries with the precision of a seasoned surgeon. But now, for the first time, she felt like a helpless fish, laid bare and vulnerable, at the mercy of Benedict’s quiet, cutting gaze.

“She must be incredibly beautiful. I’ve heard she’s a doctor, and everyone knows she’s his favorite. But we've never had the pleasure of seeing her face up close,” the receptionist sighed, almost wistfully.

Odette’s mind involuntarily drifted to Millicent, radiant, youthful, and undeniably stunning.

She had always known the whispers. The envy and admiration from others who saw her as the woman who had won Benedict’s heart.

But the darker whispers followed, too, cruel words behind her back, branding her as an old hag, a woman who had used their child as a means to trap Benedict in her web.

It wasn’t just the hotel, the roses, or the jewelry; it was everything. All of it belonged to Millicent.

Odette could barely stomach the words the receptionist spoke. The mention of “big brother” and how Benedict had showered Millicent with gifts was the final straw.

“I often hear Mr. Evander’s wife calling him ‘big brother.’ Honestly, it’s quite a skill; imagine being six years older and still managing to call him that,” the receptionist mused.

“Mr. Evander never forgets her, always red roses, sparkling jewelry, and other gifts. It’s truly enviable...”

Odette’s heart twisted with the weight of the words. She couldn’t listen anymore. With one sharp motion, she hung up.

She had never set foot in that hotel. Not once.

And everything she had believed, every gesture of love she had been part of, now felt like a cruel mirage. The hotel, the flowers, the jewels, they were all Millicent’s.

The receptionist, still confused, muttered to a nearby colleague, “Some random person called, asking about Mr. Evander’s visits. Then, I just hung up. What a jealous type.”