She Secretly Left Before He Came Home With His Ex

In Wall Street, Dike Fitzsimmons stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, slowly turning the prayer beads on his wrist. The beads were old, the cord nearly worn through. But he couldn’t bring himself to throw them away. They were a gift from Savina.

His voice came out low with a sneer.

“Back then, you were willing to sell off every share you owned just to help him start from scratch. And after that, you stayed by his side, content to be a nameless little secretary.”

A faint chill crept into his tone. “I told you from the beginning, Myron isn’t someone who brings peace. Follow him, and you’ll regret it one day.”

The man’s voice grew colder, edged with disapproval.

A gust of cold wind slipped down the collar of Savina’s coat, cutting through to her bones. She pulled her coat tighter and let out a soft, self-mocking laugh.

“Yeah, you’re right. I was blind back then. But now… now, I finally see clearly.”

She hesitated, then asked quietly, “You once told me that no matter what happens in the future, if I ever need your help, I can come to you. Does that still count?”

Silence stretched on the other end of the line.

With every passing second, her heart grew colder. But she didn’t blame Dike. She had brought this upon herself.

Taking a deep breath, she murmured, “I’m sorry. I was being presumptuous.”

She was about to hang up when Dike’s cold voice cut through.

“Savina, I let you go once before. But since you’ve come knocking again, I won’t let you walk away so easily this time.”

“Divorce Myron. I’ll come for you at the end of the month.” His tone dropped lower and colder. “Remember this—if you marry me, I could only be widowed in the future. Not divorced.”

Before she could respond, the line went dead.

The cold wind whipped across Savina’s face before she let out a bitter laugh.

Years ago, Dike had been the youngest financial prodigy in Wall Street—the man who’d chased after her for three whole years.

Her heart had almost wavered. But then Myron came into the picture.

Back then, she had stood at the top of her game, and when she saw his broken and struggling figure, she couldn’t help but reach out a hand. One act of kindness led to another, and slowly, affection grew between them. Eventually, she cut ties with Dike completely.

By the end of this month, she told herself, she would settle everything once and for all.

When she returned home, the first thing she did was call a few friends in Maryland, asking them to help her locate her son’s whereabouts. Then, she went upstairs to pack her things.

She gathered every item Myron had ever given her—every reminder of their years together—and packed them into boxes. One by one, she listed them online for sale.

It didn’t take long for buyers to reach out. Just as she was about to move the boxes out of the room, Myron came home.

His gaze immediately fell on the luggage in her hands. His brows furrowed in displeasure.

“Running away again? Savina, you’re thirty now, not eighteen. I don’t have the time or patience to keep coaxing you every day.”

He crossed his arms, his tone laced with arrogance.

“If you can stand this life, then stay. If you can’t, then leave. But the child stays with me. Don’t even think about taking him.”

He spoke from a place of certainty, as though he knew she wouldn’t dare defy him. After all, she was no longer the powerful woman who once ruled Wall Street. Staying by his side as a housewife—he believed—was her best and only choice.

Hearing those words, Savina felt both pain and absurdity twist in her chest.

This was the man she had loved for seven years.

If love could rot like this, what about family? Could affection curdle, too, so completely that a father could abandon his own child without a shred of guilt?

Her fingers clenched into fists. She lifted her gaze to him and asked, each word measured and trembling, “Myron, I’ll ask you one last time. Are you really not going to care about our son? Are you really going to leave him in that lab to fend for himself?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. His voice dropped, calm but cutting.

“Can you stop being so paranoid, Savina? Helene told me herself that sending him to the lab is for better treatment. Nothing will happen to him.”

He frowned, his tone now laced with irritation. “Are you worried about our son—or are you just jealous of Helene, so you’re picking another fight?”

The light in Savina’s eyes dimmed. Just like that, her heart went cold.

Even now, he still thought this was about jealousy.

He truly had no idea that Helene had lied to him.

Savina had done her own investigation—none of the children who entered that research facility ever came out alive.

Her lips parted as she tried to tell him the truth.

“Myron, Helene lied to—”

But before she could finish, a noise erupted from the living room.

Myron’s expression changed instantly. Panic flickered across his face as he rushed out.

When she followed, she saw a side of him she’d never seen before—gentle, frantic, and utterly devoted.

Helene had simply bitten her lip while eating fruit, yet Myron immediately called the family doctor to treat the tiny wound.

He didn’t even notice that Savina’s palm was bleeding, blood dripping quietly between her fingers.

Her chest tightened with stabbing pain.

And then his voice struck like ice.

“Helene just got back from abroad. She hasn’t found a place to stay yet, so she’ll be living here for now.”

Before Savina could respond, Helene pouted delicately.

“Myron, that’s not really appropriate, is it? Savina already doesn’t like me. If I stay here, won’t it make her unhappy?”

Before Savina could speak, Myron cut in coldly.

“This is my house. If she’s not happy with it, she can leave.”

That made Savina freeze, her breath catching in her throat.

This was her house; the deed bore her name. He had once told her this was their home—built for both of them.

Helene’s lips curved into a coy smile. Her eyes gleamed with provocation as she pointed at the diamond pendant around Savina’s neck.

“Savina, I really like that peace pendant you’re wearing. I want that.”

Before Savina could say a word, Myron ordered coldly, “Savina, take it off. Give it to Helene.”