A proper ex is one who acts like they’re dead. After my divorce from Preston, we both adhered to that truth religiously. Until the anniversary of my father’s death. The front desk buzzed up to say a package had arrived for me. Inside was a bouquet of white roses. The card read, “Please give Mr. Ford my regards.” It was signed with a simple “P.” Many people sent flowers to commemorate my father on this day. But only one person would sign with just a “P.” I refused to even touch them. In front of my entire staff, I dropped the bouquet directly into the office trash can. There was a time when he was the most important person in my life, and in my father’s. But after my father passed away, his hollow sympathy was the last thing I needed. 1 My executive assistant, Sarah, must have seen the pause in my signature. “Was that from… Preston?” she asked, her voice low and tentative. I didn’t answer, my focus returning to the quarterly financial report on my desk. Sarah sighed. “I heard he’s coming back from the New York headquarters. His new project is doing a roadshow here. You’ll have to see him eventually. Are you just going to keep this up?” “And if the media asks about his connection to you…” “Issue a statement from my father’s estate,” I cut her off. “Make it clear that his business empire has no record of such a student.” “As for me and him,” I added, my voice flat, “we’re done. Completely.” Sarah didn’t seem surprised. She simply nodded. But as she gathered her things and reached the door, she paused. I looked up at her, a question in my eyes. The young graduate I’d hired years ago now had a quiet strength in her gaze. “Audrey,” she asked seriously, “are you going to leave him any opening at all? Even just for the press?” “No.” The word was sharp, absolute. My tone was devoid of emotion. I was merely stating a fact. A proper ex is a dead ex. A smile bloomed on Sarah’s face, her dimples showing. “Good,” she said. Her response made me pause for a second before I rose to head to the department merger meeting. In the elevator, I ran into Nathan, a lawyer who had been a senior of Preston’s in college. He’d been a witness to our relationship back then and was now a partner at the city’s top law firm. After a brief exchange of pleasantries, his tone grew somber. “I got word this morning. Preston’s coming home.” I gave a noncommittal, “Hm.” Nathan frowned, his expression complicated. “Your father valued loyalty above all else, Audrey. If he were still here, he would hate to see you two like this.” Like what? Bitter enemies? Complete strangers? I forced a tight smile. If he hadn’t sent those damn flowers this morning, I wouldn’t have even thought of him. I can move on from the past, but I don’t have the right to forgive on my father’s behalf. Someone has to remember the wrongs Preston committed. Someone has to get justice for my father. Back at my waterfront apartment, I washed my face and took out the offerings I’d prepared. One by one, I gently arranged them in front of the memorial portrait in the living room. In the black-and-white photo, my father stood in a sharp suit, his eyes filled with a warm, gentle smile. It was taken on the happiest day of his life. My wedding day. The moment I said “I do,” Preston had pulled me into a fierce embrace. In the front row, my father was smiling so wide that fine lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes. The wedding photographer captured it, freezing the moment in time. Seven years had passed since that day. And those seven years were the darkest, most agonizing of my life. 2 The next day at the corporate headquarters, everyone was looking at me strangely. My closest confidants seemed to be biting their tongues. I had a sinking feeling I knew why, but I didn’t ask. I proceeded with the acquisitions report as scheduled. During the mid-meeting break, a familiar yet foreign figure walked in. Preston. He wore a dark, impeccably tailored suit, a limited-edition Patek Philippe on his wrist, and held an investment proposal in his hand. Two years had transformed him. The warmth he once projected was gone, replaced by the sharp, confident edge of a top-tier executive. If Dad were still alive, he would have been so proud to see him now. A crowd of curious colleagues gathered as he handed me the proposal. Preston and I said nothing, a silent, mutual understanding hanging in the dead, awkward air between us. After signing the last page, I closed the folder and turned to leave. “You’ve grown a lot these past two years,” Preston’s voice came from behind me. I didn’t turn around. I didn’t respond. I simply pushed open the conference room door and walked out. But by the time I reached the end of the hallway, I couldn't stop the stinging in my eyes. If Dad were still alive, I wouldn’t have had to shoulder the weight of his unfinished business empire in just two short years, poring over financial statements late into the night, pushing projects to completion. I wouldn’t have had to force myself to grow up so fast, to take on the core operations he once managed, just to protect his legacy. This so-called growth was paid for with my father’s life. Two interns walked by, their hushed whispers drifting to my ears. “Is that him? Preston? The one who betrayed his mentor to get ahead and indirectly caused Audrey’s father’s death?” “Why else do you think everyone’s here? They’re all waiting for the drama to explode between him and Audrey.” “God, I heard from the older staff that they used to be the city’s perfect couple. How did it end up like this?” “You can never know what’s in a person’s heart. Who knows what kind of twisted game he was playing.” Their voices faded as the phone in my pocket buzzed urgently. “Audrey, the emergency board meeting has been moved up! We need you at the conference center now!” “On my way,” I said. As I rounded the corner, I ran straight into Preston. He held up his own phone. “Still not planning on taking me off your block list?” I acted as if he were invisible, not breaking my stride. Ignored again, a flicker of annoyance crossed his face. He stepped in front of me, his hand shooting out to grab my wrist. “Audrey, was it really such a big deal that you have to hold a grudge for years? Mr. Ford was always a forgiving man. It’s a shame you didn’t learn that from him.” “And whether you like it or not,” he continued, his grip tightening, “you will be at the celebration dinner with me tonight.” Hearing him say my father’s name was a desecration. I violently shook his hand off, my voice as cold as ice. “Preston, you don’t have the right to say his name.” Without another glance, I walked toward the conference center. Walter, one of the company directors, met me at the entrance. He was my father’s oldest and dearest friend, a man who had been with him since they were building their dreams in a college dorm room. Now, even in his old age, Walter’s eyes still held a sharp, fierce light. He stared at me intently. “That ungrateful snake is back?” 3 I nodded, a wave of sorrow washing over me. Walter’s face contorted with rage. “He has the nerve to show his face here?” he seethed. “If it weren’t for your father paying off his fifty-million-dollar debt and taking him under his wing, would he be where he is today? And how did he repay him? By stabbing him in the back when it mattered most!” “Your father was too kind! He should have let him rot back then!” Walter grew more agitated, pointing toward the lobby. “At your wedding, he stood before your father and swore he would protect you for the rest of his life, that he would work hard and honor him. It was all bullshit!” “The man has no soul!” He paused, then shot me a look of frustration. “And you’re just like him, too trusting. If you had seen him for what he really was sooner, none of this would have…” I remained silent. Walter was right. Preston was brilliant, and he was a masterful actor. Years ago, after his own father jumped to his death, creditors had shown up at his door. It was my father who settled all his debts. Afterwards, Preston had bowed to my father three times, formally asking to become his student. My father taught him everything he knew about business. He even orchestrated our marriage. That was why, when I first found out he was cheating, I couldn’t bring myself to tell Dad. Her name was Jessica. She was a financial journalist. Emboldened by Preston’s favor, she became a tyrant in our social circle. But Preston didn’t care. Against everyone’s advice, he kept her by his side, giving her special treatment at every turn. When the rumors reached me, I was worried about his reputation and confronted him directly. He looked me in the eye, his expression earnest. “Audrey, she comes from a difficult background. I see my former self in her.” “I’m just trying to give her a hand up. It’s nothing more than that.” I believed him. I thought he was acting out of pure kindness, so I let it go. He pulled me into his arms, patting my back gently, his voice impossibly soft. But after that, Jessica became his shadow. They traveled for business together, attended functions together, and were seen acting intimately at corporate galas. The rumors grew more vicious. Someone started calling Jessica “Mrs. Preston” behind my back. The moment I heard those words, I snapped. I stormed into his office and demanded to know what he was playing at. The usual tenderness was gone from his face. His voice was laced with impatience, and a hint of a threat. “Let people say what they want. Our consciences are clear.” “Don’t be irrational. You’re affecting my work.” I fought back tears, my voice trembling. “Dad hasn’t been well. If he hears any of this, the shock could be too much for him!” Preston was silent for a moment, then nodded. For a while after that, he and Jessica did maintain a deliberate distance in public. His office became off-limits to outsiders. But “outsiders” now included me. I was completely shut out. Even work-related matters had to be relayed through his own people. When Dad occasionally asked how Preston and I were doing, I swallowed my pain and forced a smile, telling him everything was fine. One Friday afternoon, I went to my father’s office to drop off his medication. The security guard who usually stood post was gone. I didn’t think much of it and pushed the door open. And there they were. Preston and Jessica, wrapped in each other’s arms, whispering intimately. I froze. So this was their “distance.” Their affair hadn’t ended; it had just moved from public view into the shadows. Tears streamed down my face. Preston didn’t even look at me. He shoved Jessica behind him protectively and snapped, “Audrey, who told you you could just walk in here? Have you no manners?” From behind his back, Jessica peeked out, her eyes a toxic mix of vulnerability and malice. “I’m so sorry, Audrey. Preston and I are in love. Please, just let us be happy.” From that day on, I became the laughingstock of our entire circle. Disgust, rage, and humiliation wrapped around me like thorns. I wanted to tell my father everything. I wanted to tell him I was divorcing Preston. But before I could, Sarah rushed in, her face pale with panic, to tell me my father had collapsed. 4 Dad’s condition was critical. He needed surgery immediately. And the only surgeon in the entire medical system with the expertise to perform it was a Dr. Evans, a man who owed Preston a significant favor. Preston pulled every string he had. He not only got Dr. Evans, but also assembled a team of the nation’s top cardiac specialists. He stayed up for two straight nights helping them develop the best possible treatment plan. During that time, he was a constant presence outside the hospital room, checking on Dad’s condition. A few days later, Dad’s condition finally stabilized. Every day, I cooked nutritious meals and brought them to the hospital. On the third day, I arrived to find that the nurse assigned to my father had been replaced by Jessica. She was standing by my father’s bed, chatting and laughing with him. When she saw me enter, a provocative smirk crossed her lips. “Oh, Audrey, you’re here! I was just telling your father all about the early days of your relationship with Preston. He was so enjoying the stories.” Her words were like needles, piercing my heart. I trembled with rage. She could torment me all she wanted, but parading her victory in my sick father’s hospital room was a line she could not cross. I lunged forward, grabbed her arm, and dragged her out of the room. In the middle of the hallway, in front of doctors, nurses, and visitors, I slapped her across the face. Hard. Jessica stumbled back, stunned, her hand flying to her cheek. The next second, a powerful force yanked me backward. Preston’s eyes were blazing with fury. “Audrey, are you insane?” We had a screaming match in his office later that day. I swept everything off his desk—cups, papers, files—my voice breaking with sobs. “That is my father in that hospital bed! He can’t handle any more stress! Jessica was doing it on purpose! If anything happens to him, I will end you both!” Crack. The sharp sound of a slap echoed in the office. A searing pain spread across my cheek. The blow cut off my words. And it shattered the very last shred of affection I had for him. “Audrey, if you pull a stunt like that again, I will have Dr. Evans on the next flight out of here.” After that, there was no turning back. We were done pretending. Preston moved into a hotel suite and never came home again. And Jessica remained my father’s primary caregiver. Not only that, she escalated her campaign of cruelty, leaving suggestive photos and notes in my office. My father quickly sensed the tension between us. One day, as I was helping him drink some water, he stared at me for a long time and said softly, “My girl, don’t try to be so strong. If you’re unhappy, you can tell me.” I tucked his blanket in, fighting back tears. “I’m fine, Dad. Don’t worry about me. The most important thing for you right now is to rest and get better.” I had only one thought: as soon as Dad had his surgery and recovered, I would tell him everything and end things with Preston for good. But two days after I made that silent promise, my father’s condition took a sudden, drastic turn for the worse. The heart monitor began to blare. The doctors urged me to contact Preston immediately; they had to operate now. I called Preston’s number over and over, but it went straight to voicemail. I asked my contacts to reach Dr. Evans, but he was also unreachable. With no other choice, I dialed Jessica’s number. “My father’s condition has worsened! Get Preston to bring Dr. Evans here now!” There was a moment of silence on the other end, then Preston’s voice, rough with annoyance, came through. “Audrey, can you stop being so dramatic? Your father’s condition isn’t that urgent. I’m busy taking Jessica to an investment summit overseas. I don’t have time for your family drama!” He hung up. I called back. This time, Jessica answered, her voice dripping with triumphant malice. “Don’t call again, Audrey. Preston is taking me on an international business trip.” She paused, then lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “By the way, about your father’s sudden decline… I wonder if it has anything to do with him overhearing Preston and me… outside his room last night?” My mind went blank. The world went silent. I don’t remember what happened next. I only remember the light above the operating room door going out, and the surgeon walking toward me, his face grim as he slowly shook his head. The board meeting was about to start. I pulled my thoughts back from the past. Just as Walter and I were about to enter the conference center, my phone rang. The caller ID showed it was my home landline. I answered. On the other end, for the first time I could remember, Preston’s voice was filled with genuine terror. “Audrey, why is there a memorial portrait of your father in the apartment?”
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "390956", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel