Chapter 89
As Brandon's car wound its way up the hill toward Serenity Villa, Millie's thumb flicked through a barrage of phone notifications.
An uneasy note crept into Charles' voice, "Could this stir up any trouble for you?"
Personal risk hardly fazed him. Years at the helm of an entertainment company had thickened his skin against gossip, and bachelorhood gave him little to lose.
Still, the court of public opinion reserved its harshest judgments for women. Millie's name could be dragged through the mud on nothing more than whispers, even though they both knew they had nothing to hide.
Still, Charles couldn't honestly say his feelings for her were strictly business. Yet he carried himself with restraint. He recognized the lines that should not be crossed and always kept his distance.
From the hospital to Evans Entertainment and even at social functions, they never let their relationship drift beyond the space shared by colleagues and friends.
Millie gave a little shake of her head, unconcerned.
"No big deal. I'll handle it with a statement," she murmured, already typing away.
A calmness settled over her. In contrast to her straightforward partnership with Charles, the messy entanglement between Brandon and Vivian was something else entirely.
No point in delving into that now. Instead, she set her phone aside and said, "It won't matter soon anyway.Brandon and I will have our divorce finalized in a few days."
Call after call from Brandon had lit up her screen, along with a flood of unanswered texts.
None of it surprised her; it was exactly why she'd silenced his every call.
Full disconnection wasn't an option, not with legal loose ends and Bennett family business still unresolved. For now, he stayed in her contacts,if only for convenience.
There was no sense in sparking a confrontation before the divorce became official.
She made up her mind to stay quiet and out of sight until the papers were finally signed.
With that, Millie focused her attention on polishing her statement.
A sidelong glance from Charles lingered on her profile before he spoke again, hesitance in every word.
"What happens if he backs out?" he asked quietly. "Before the divorce is finalized, either of you could still stop it from happening."
Her eyes flicked over the post one final time before she pressed"publish."
"He won't." A steady confidence colored her voice as she turned to watch the world blur by outside."Vivian's running out of time. If Brandon wants to fulfill her last wish, divorce is the only way forward."
Beyond the glass, the street glimmered with the leftover confetti, a silent echo of some other couple's new beginning.
The truth struck her; she and Brandon had barely made it through a single year as husband and wife.
Memories of that whirlwind wedding still lingered, bright and fresh.
Back then,Crobert had been transformed, every inch draped in white roses and gleaming with luxury.
The dress she wore was worth a fortune.
Brandon had orchestrated the whole affair, pouring his energy into every rushed detail, determined to make it flawless for her.
She could still picture the way he lifted her into his arms, promising her a lifetime of love.
She still remember that look in his eyes, sincere, almost reverent.
Yet less than twelve months had passed before he shattered that trust.
What did it matter now? Millie forced herself to look away.
Seven years of love couldn't be reclaimed, but once she accepted the truth, she resolved never to dwell in regret.
With a small, determined smile, Millie glanced at Charles. "Anyway, I have proof of his affair. Even if he tries to call it off, I can still make the divorce happen."
A sigh slipped from Charles as he met her steady gaze, quietly admiring her resilience.
Strength like hers was both admirable and heartbreaking to witness.
...
Elsewhere, an Aston Martin cruised toward Serenity Villa.
Mid-drive, Brandon's phone buzzed with a sharp notification.
A quick glance during a stoplight told him it was from Millie's social feed, a special alert he never ignored.
One tap opened her post.
Millie's statement was direct and unflinching. "There is no truth to the recent rumors about Charles and me.Our friendship goes back years, and I was once an artist at Evans Entertainment. Our relationship has always remained professional and cordial. Other friends attended that dinner tonight as well; it was never just the two of us and a child. I kindly ask the media to stop circulating misinformation."
The traffic signal flickered to green.
With a sigh, Brandon locked his screen and guided the car forward.
No part of that public statement settled his nerves. The explanation rang hollow, and if he couldn't believe it, neither would anyone else.
Annoyance simmered beneath the surface.
Lately, Millie had grown distant, and he couldn't shake the sense that she was hiding something.
The urge to confront her grew with every mile.
Memories from their last argument at Moonlit Estate resurfaced: her tears, the way she had pushed him away.
Doubt gnawed at him. Had she turned cold because there was someone new in her life?
He recalled the years she had clung to him, always yielding to his wishes, even when she was worn out,his soft words could always change her mind.
She had never rejected him, not until that night.
Was Charles the reason for her change? Or maybe it was Giffard, or someone else he hadn't even considered?
Brandon's fingers curled tighteraround the steering wheel, knuckles going stiff with pressure.
The sleek Aston Martin eased up the driveway and stopped at Serenity Villa.
Pulling up to the driveway, Brandon stepped out and made his way to the front door.
Complete darkness greeted him as he entered. Not a single lamp had been left burning.
A frown creased his forehead, echoing a sense of deja vu. This wasn't the first time he'd come home to a house like this.
He flipped every light switch in reach, chasing away the shadows, but silence echoed through every room.
A chill crept in. Something felt fundamentally different.
He remembered his last visit, a quick trip to grab something before visiting his grandfather, when the darkness hadn't troubled him. Tonight, though, the emptiness was impossible to ignore.
Jaw set, Brandon moved toward the master bedroom.
There was no sign of Millie. Not even the faintest trace.
Nothing about the place suggested anyone had been living there recently.
A deeper scowl etched itself across Brandon's face.
Maybe she'd simply switched rooms, maybe she hadn't gone far.
With a surge of hope, he began opening doors throughout the house.
Room after room revealed the same story-bare surfaces, untouched sheets, not a trace of daily life.
Refusing to give in, Brandon made his way to the bathroom, searching for any sign she'd been there.Only his toiletries remained.
Two toothbrushes once stood side by side; now, his was the only one left, upright and lonely in its holder.
She was gone.
No matter how he tried to deny it, reality was staring him down.
His steps led him back to the master bedroom, eyes falling on the closet, now half-empty and forlorn.
There was a time when the space had held clothes belonging to them both.
Part of it held his things, the rest held hers.
Now, only his neatly pressed suits hung in rigid rows, untouched by anything warm or familiar.
Every detail pointed to one thing-Millie hadn't lived here for quite some time.
A year ago, unless Millie was on a trip, staying at Moonlit Estate, or with him in his other houses, she always returned to this place.
She had confided once that, after losing her father, she never really belonged anywhere.
Years spent being pulled from place to place by her mother, and then watching her remarry, left her more lost than before. Even after her stepfather's departure, the tension at home never eased.
She used to call this place her sanctuary, a real home, something she'd promised to hold onto, even when he was away.
No matter the hour, she would always leave a light on for him, always ready to welcome him back.
Each new piece of furniture, every little detail she'd added, had filled the house with warmth and comfort. But now, those things remained but traces of her had vanished, casting a cold, sterile chill over the rooms.
Brandon's hands curled into trembling fists.
A silent ache settled in his chest, heavy and inescapable.
Had she really moved on for good? Or was this some new test, another twist in her pattern of leaving and returning?