The Billionaire’s Silent Goodbye,No Turning Back

Three years into our marriage, Julian Vance suddenly brought home a young college girl.

Before I could even process it, he pushed a handsome male student toward my chest. "I need some excitement in my life, and you need company," Julian said, his voice dripping with casual indifference. "We both get what we need.

Don't resent me for this." But the last time he played this game, he pushed it too far.

This time, he actually sat down and tried to negotiate with me in a gentle, pleading tone. "Chloe, I wasn't careful this time.

I tried to prevent it, but Vivian still got pregnant with my child." "The baby needs a legitimate family. We need to get a temporary divorce." "I'll marry Vivian for now.

During this time, you can stay with this college kid.

Just treat it like you're dating him!" Everyone in the living room held their breath, expecting me to do what I always did—throw a check at the boy and kick him out.

Instead, I looked up, a faint smile playing on my lips. "Sure. I'll do what you want. I'll date him." Julian froze. The living room fell dead silent.

Mia was the first to snap out of it. "Chloe, what did you just say?" I set my phone down.

My gaze drifted from Julian's stunned face and landed on the young college boy standing nearby. "I said, sure." Someone in the room gasped loudly. "Chloe actually agreed?!" "No way.

She's not kicking him out this time?" "Julian, did you hear that?" Julian's expression barely changed. The faint, arrogant smirk remained on his face.

However, Vivian looked visibly nervous, her fingers tightening around Julian's hand. "Julian... Chloe has finally come around. You should be happy." Julian didn't reply.

He walked over to the young boy, patted his shoulder, and said, "Take good care of Chloe." With that, he turned and led Vivian upstairs. I withdrew my gaze and looked at the boy.

He was still standing in the same spot, the tips of his ears flushing a bright red. "Do you live on campus, or are you staying here?" I asked.

His throat bobbed as he swallowed nervously. "Either... either is fine." "Then stay here." I turned toward the hallway.

Behind me, the whispers of Julian's friends immediately broke out: "Wait, is Chloe serious this time?" "Usually when this happens, she throws a fit and kicks us all out!" "Oh, come on, trust Julian.

She always ends up throwing a check. It's like she thinks touching another guy will give her some kind of disease." "Remember that media arts major last time?

She didn't even give him money.

She just had security throw him out onto the street." "She's probably just putting on a show to make Julian jealous because Vivian is pregnant." I kept walking.

Their words stabbed at my back like tiny needles. But they were right. I used to be so stupidly proud. Too proud, too elegant.

I foolishly believed that keeping myself "clean" would protect my marriage. Every time Julian brought a boy in front of me, I would coldly hand them a check and kick them out.

I thought that was winning. I thought at least I was keeping my hands clean. And what did I get for it? Vivian's baby was on the way.

My high moral standards had only won me a divorce agreement, an empty bed, and a room full of people laughing at me behind my back.

At the end of the secondfloor hallway, I pushed open a bedroom door. "This is your room," I said. I leaned against the doorframe, studying the boy. His name was Ethan Mercer.

Sixfoottall. Best speaker in the international moot court. Top of his class, with a guaranteed spot for his master's degree and a full scholarship every year.

Julian had really spent some money this time. Ethan wasn't just some random boy picked up from a club. "Selling yourself for money?" I asked bluntly. He nodded. I was surprised.

No hesitation, no excuses. The old me would have sneered, thrown a check, and told him to get lost. How powerful I must have felt back then.

Standing on my moral high ground, acting like anyone who touched me was degrading my sacred love. And what happened? The "trash" left, but Julian never came back either.

Honestly, was any of them actually dirtier than Julian? "If you need anything, just tell the housekeeper," I said, stepping into the room.

He followed me inside. "Chloe, my name is Ethan." "I know," I replied without turning around. "Julian told me." I walked out onto the balcony.

Downstairs, the guests were finally leaving. I watched their cars drive away in the dark. I had lost count of how many times they had gathered to watch me become a joke.

Returning to the master bedroom, my eyes fell on the divorce papers sitting on the nightstand. For three years, I had closed my eyes to his wild behavior.

All because of what had happened back then—something that had completely broken my heart and alienated us. But he had his reasons, and I had mine. A debt must always be paid.

In the beginning, I told him as long as he didn't bring them home, I didn't care.

Later, I said as long as he didn't cross the red line of getting someone pregnant, I would look the other way. I took step after step backward. He pushed step after step forward.

Now, since we were both sick of this marriage... there was no point in hesitating. I picked up the pen and signed my name.

Ethan had just walked out of the bathroom, his hair still damp. The moment he saw me, the tips of his ears turned red again. "Chloe...

I just finished showering." I stood up, staring at him. Julian had really chosen a boy who blushed easily this time.

The boys before him always had resentment in their eyes when I paid them to leave. One had even screamed at me, "Are you two psycho? One pushes us in, the other kicks us out!

What do you think we are? Toys?" At the time, I only looked at him coldly. "Take the money and shut up." Thinking back, he was right. We were the ones who were sick.

Julian was addicted to pushing my boundaries, and I was obsessed with a fake sense of emotional purity. My phone lit up.

A message from Julian: [Go to sleep early.] I stared at those words, finding them hilarious. He never used to send me messages like this. But today, he did.

Was it because I let Ethan stay? Was it because he finally realized that the "pure" Chloe, who would never touch another man, might actually do it this time? I didn't reply.

The lights outside went off, and the entire estate fell into a deep silence. Vivian had moved in, and Ethan had moved in.

This house had finally turned into a garbage dump, taking in everyone and anyone. Including myself.

I turned off the lights, a mocking smile on my face that even the darkness couldn't hide. Julian thought I was still the same Chloe. He thought I didn't dare. He thought I wouldn't.

He thought I would always keep my hands clean. But he was wrong. The next morning, my neck still felt stiff.

When I walked downstairs, Ethan was in the kitchen helping the housekeeper. Seeing me, he almost dropped the spatula in his hand. I smiled.

Where did all that shyness from last night go?

Just as I sat down at the dining table, Julian came down. "Up so early?" He sat opposite me, a mysterious smirk on his lips. "How was last night?" Before I could answer, the front door was pushed open.

Zach rushed in first. "Julian! Who won the bet?" "I bet twenty grand she wouldn't last until noon!" "I bet she kicked him out last night!

Threetoone odds, Julian is the dealer—" The voices cut off instantly.

Seeing me sitting there, their excited faces froze into pure embarrassment. "Chloe... morning!" Julian picked up his coffee cup and took a sip.

He acted as if his friends weren't treating our marriage like a joke, but rather some proud achievement of his. "Sit down," I said calmly. "Breakfast is ready." I stood up and walked toward the kitchen. "Ethan, you should get to class." Ethan blinked, startled, then quickly untied his apron and left.

As the front door closed, the living room fell silent for a few seconds. Zach lowered his voice, "See? I told you, she sent him away anyway!" Marcus laughed. "What did you expect?

Julian knows Chloe like the back of his hand." "Julian really knows how to train a wife," Zach said, his voice full of admiration. "If you want a wife, get one like Chloe.

She keeps her head down and guards the house." Julian sat at the table, having finished his eggs. Listening to their praise, his smirk widened.

He looked incredibly pleased with himself. I took a deep breath and walked out of the kitchen.

Julian and I spoke at the exact same time. "Come back to my parents' estate for dinner tonight..." "Meet me at the lawyer's office at 2:00 PM..." The room went dead silent.

I placed the signed divorce papers on the table. "Let's get this done first."

Julian froze. His eyes locked onto the signature line, but he didn't move. I knew what he was thinking. If this were the past, I would have torn the papers with tears in my eyes.

I would have choked out, “Julian, how can you just throw me away?” Without a massive fight, this never would have happened so easily.

Julian looked up at me, his tone still lazy and arrogant. "What's the rush? Even I'm not in a hurry." "I can't wait," I said. "Two o'clock.

Are you coming or not?" His eyelid twitched. "Chloe," he pushed the agreement back to the center of the table. "Are you still dreaming?" "You don't want me to wake up," I said, changing my approach, "and tear these papers up in regret, do you?" The tension grew thick.

Suddenly, Vivian came downstairs. "Chloe, please don't be angry.

I just don't want my baby with Julian to be called a bastard when they're born." "The divorce can wait until my baby is born and registered!" As she spoke, her eyes turned red, looking as though she was more reluctant to end this toxic marriage than I was.

Julian glanced at Vivian. Her words "don't be angry" felt like a slap to his fragile ego.

Since when did Julian Vance need to be rushed into a divorce? "Chloe, do you really think I don't dare to sign?" He laughed suddenly, grabbing the pen from the table. "Julian—" Zach tried to stop him. "Shut up," Julian snapped without looking up.

Once he signed, he threw the pen heavily onto the table. With his signature smirk back on his face, he said, "I keep my word.

Everyone here is a witness." "Once Vivian has the baby, we'll get remarried." He stood up, leaning close to my ear. "You're the woman I dragged back from the gates of death, Chloe.

None of those cheap girls out there can compare to you." "We'll let you raise this child. You're the only one worthy of raising my heir, understand?" I let out a soft laugh.

So this was his twisted way of "loving" me. I said nothing. I grabbed my prepacked suitcase and walked out the door.

Vivian's voice floated from behind me: "Julian... do you think Chloe is really not coming back this time?" Julian didn't answer.

In his original plan, we were supposed to divorce but still live together. I was supposed to keep my right to live in this villa.

My sudden departure was indeed out of his expectations.

But it wouldn't change the final outcome. "You little troublemaker," he muttered, pinching Vivian's cheek. "Now that she's gone, you must be secretly celebrating, aren't you?" "No, I'm not!" Vivian pouted. "My family raised me better than to ruin someone else's marriage...

I'm doing this all for the baby." She looked so fragile and innocent, like a delicate flower trembling in the wind.

It instantly melted Julian's irritation. "Alright, don't look so sad. I was just teasing." Vivian was much smarter than the other girls. She never provoked me.

She never called me to declare her ownership, saying things like “He's with me now.” She simply acted as if she was just trying to "join" our family.

If I said one harsh word to her, Julian would think I was bullying her. I had met girls who were younger, prettier, and had more personality. But they were always too impatient.

They rushed him to choose, rushed me to leave. Only Vivian remained patient. She moved in quietly with her pregnancy.

She called me "Chloe" with a sweet smile, acting sweeter than a real sister. She had achieved what none of Julian's exlovers could.

At 1:50 PM, I sat on the bench at the attorney's office. I dialed Julian's number for the ninth time. Finally, he picked up. "Where are you?" I asked.

Julian's voice sounded casual. "I'm with Vivian at her prenatal checkup. I can't leave.

Just wait for me, I'll head over when we're done." "I told you, we have an appointment at two." "The divorce papers aren't going to run away," he said, sounding like he was coaxing a throwingatantrum child. "Wait until Vivian is finished.

I'm hanging up."

Wait. Always waiting. I watched the couples walking in and out of the building. Some of them had red eyes from crying; some had completely blank faces.

I used to cry like that, feeling like my heart was being ripped apart. And then, his heart would soften, and my "reward" would be not getting divorced.

But today, that wasn't the reward I wanted. The receptionist called the next number. I found my lawyer's contact on Snapchat and sent a message: [Mr.

Davis, let's file for a contested divorce.

I'll send you the paperwork this afternoon.] That night, after several urgent calls from Julian's father, I went back to the Vance family estate.

On the way, I kept wondering: how should I explain this to Arthur Vance? Should I tell him his son got another girl pregnant? That he forced me into a divorce?

Or that I was already preparing to sue him? Family obligations are sometimes far more exhausting than lawsuits. When I arrived, I was alone.

Arthur frowned. "Where is Julian?" "He's busy," I said quietly. "Busy?" Arthur slammed his fork onto the table. "What could possibly be more important than his own wife?" I kept quiet.

Arthur and my father had been brothersinarms, risking their lives together when they were young. He had always wanted our families to be united by marriage.

But Eleanor, Julian's mother, had been completely against it. It was Julian who had refused to let go back then. He had even threatened to cut ties with his family to marry me.

When I found out, I had cried my eyes out. Between us, he was always the brave one running ahead, while I watched his back, feeling insecure and unworthy.

But after that, I made up my mind. I took his hand and said, "I won't hide anymore.

If you dare to marry me, I dare to be your wife." Later, my anxiety and depression actually got better.

The day I willingly went to his family estate with him, Arthur was so happy that he transferred onethird of his company shares to my name.

He said it was to show the rest of the family that I had the backing of the patriarch. At the time, I thought the biggest obstacle was Julian's mother.

Now I realized that outsiders are never the ones who ruin a marriage. Just as I was thinking about how to bring up the divorce, the front door pushed open.

Julian walked in with his arm around Vivian. He froze when he saw me. Arthur's face turned pitch black. "You disgrace!

What kind of trash are you bringing into my house?" Julian guided Vivian to sit down, his tone relaxed. "Dad, it's just a dinner.

Is that necessary?" Then he glanced at me. "Chloe, you should leave first." Feeling the need to explain, he leaned in and whispered, "I didn't think you'd show up.

Today is Vivian's night to meet the family, okay?" I let out a quiet laugh. Her night.

He was supporting another woman so proudly that he brought her to meet his parents before we were even legally divorced.

Eleanor came downstairs. Her cold gaze swept past my face and landed on Vivian. "Is this the girl from outside?

Our family really attracts nothing but lowclass trash." With one sentence, she insulted both of us.

In the past, Julian would have stood in front of me and said, “Chloe is the woman I chose.” But today, he frowned and pulled Vivian closer. "Mom, she's my woman.

You have no right to disrespect her." Vivian's eyes brimmed with tears. She always looked like the victim of the entire world.

I stood up, feeling completely detached. "I'll take my leave." Arthur couldn't make me stay. Julian didn't even bother to look at my way. The divorce went smoother than I expected.

Julian probably believed that once the baby was born and we remarried, nothing would change. Everything would go back to normal.

On the day we went to court to sign the final settlement papers, he was forty minutes late. Then, he picked up the pen and signed effortlessly.

He leaned in close, his voice rare and gentle, almost coaxing. "Didn't you always want a real wedding?" "Once we remarry, I'll plan it myself." "The private island you liked, the wedding dress you wanted, everything you love—I'll give it to you." I looked up at him. "Julian, there's no need." He blinked, then smiled. "I get it.

We're an old married couple now, you think we don't need those flashy things. But this is a wedding I owe you.

I have to make it up to you." I shook my head. "In a week, you'll..." Before I could finish, his phone exploded with ringtones. Julian answered it, and his face changed.

He jumped up. "What do you mean her stomach hurts?

I'm on my way!" He took two steps, then stopped and turned back to look at me. "I know we'll receive the final court decree in a week, but that's just a piece of paper.

The court can say whatever it wants, but you are still mine. Those are two different things." He patted my shoulder and rushed out.

I stood at the court exit and finished my sentence in the empty hallway: "...In a week, you won't just be receiving a divorce decree." The day the divorce decree was delivered to the Vance estate, Julian was summoned back by an angry phone call from his father. "I don't care how you do it, call Chloe back right now.

I have something to say." "Once I'm done speaking, if you still want this divorce, I won't stop you!" Julian frowned.

Although he didn't know what his father wanted to say, he knew better than anyone how ridiculous this divorce actually was. Over the past week, his phone had been dead silent.

No messages from her, no Snapchat notifications. He kept saying he didn't care, but his chest felt completely hollow.

He had never gone a whole week without communicating with his wife. He needed an excuse, a legitimate reason to go to her.

And his father had just handed him one. "Fine, fine," he muttered, pulling out his phone and scrolling to her name. "So annoying.

I'll just call her." Despite his complaints, his fingers moved faster than ever. He pressed the call button.

He cleared his throat, trying to figure out what his first line should be. Should he say, “Chloe, my dad wants you to come to the estate”? Or, “Stop acting like a child.

We aren't really divorced. Is it necessary to stay away for a whole week?” Then, the call connected. But the voice on the other end wasn't Chloe's. "Hello?

The bride is currently adjusting her veil. Are you a guest of the bride's family?"