Chapter 681

She refused to follow in her parents' footsteps, and she certainly wasn't willing to blindly trust everything she saw or heard.

She wanted to give Hawthorne a chance to hear his side of the story. After all, he was her first and only man.

"Hawthorne, aren't you going to explain? Or is what that woman said actually true?"

Disappointment clouded Gwyneth's face. Even when her parents fought, they'd still defend themselves to the bitter end-so what was Hawthorne trying to say by staying silent?

"Gwyn, don't be unreasonable. You've had way too much to drink tonight; you're completely out of it. Promise me this won't happen again."

It was the first time Hawthorne had ever spoken to her in such a stern tone.

Gwyneth was stunned. People always said women were fickle, but apparently, men could be just as mercurial.

Just then, Hawthorne's phone buzzed-Hans was calling, but Gwyneth could distinctly hear a woman's voice in the background.

"Hawthorne, why aren't you here yet? My head is spinning... Why did you send Hans instead? Don't you want me anymore?"

The voice was all too familiar-one Gwyneth could never forget.

Patti Yale. The same woman who'd openly declared herself the other woman in Hawthorne's life.

"I'll be right there. Just stay put and wait for me, okay?"

Hawthorne glanced back at Gwyneth, his gaze lingering. "You're drunk, Gwyn. Try to get some sleep."

Gwyneth felt as if she'd been plunged into an icy lake. The words, the gestures, the whole scene-it was all so familiar. She'd witnessed it countless times before.

Back then, though, she'd merely been an observer. Now, she was the one living it. This was exactly how McNeil used to treat Victoria-same expression, same gestures, even the same lines. It was uncanny.

"Hawthorne, if you walk out that door tonight, there's no turning back for us."

Hawthorne, patience thinning, sat beside her and gently brushed his hand across her cheek, soft and smooth beneath his fingers.

"Gwyn, don't be stubborn. I'll be right back. I promise."

But Gwyneth knew there was nothing she could do to stop him from going to that

woman.

How ironic-she'd blurted out the same words Victoria once had, years ago.

Hawthorne left without looking back, just like her father used to. And she... she'd become Victoria's shadow. Maybe she deserved it.

The same story, now playing out in her own life. When Hawthorne finally disappeared from sight, a shadow settled over her face.

So, to Hawthorne... what did she really mean?

Dizzy and unsteady, Gwyneth pulled herself upright and went to look for a pen and some paper.

What should have been a ten-minute task-drafting the divorce papers-took her over half an hour.

She refused to become her mother, living that kind of life. She wouldn't spend another night waiting, tears,

face, while her

streaming down her fa

husband was with someone else.

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All the things she'd never understood, all the pain she'd never been able to feel—

it all became clear in a single night.

She realized that, when faced with the man she loved most, one could lose all reason.

No matter Hawthorne's

motives whether gratitude or

revenge the moment he fir

began

neglecting her feelings, their tragedy was already set in motion

belongs to s

Gwyneth filled an entire page, but when she tried to get up and pack her things,

she was too drunk and collapsed onto the bed instead.

The divorce agreement slipped from her grasp, drifting lazily beneath the bed.

Everything was spinning. Her head felt heavy, her limbs weak. If she couldn't leave tonight, she'd wait until morning.

In the early hours, Hawthorne returned, exhausted.

Patti Yale had been buzzing with manic energy, dragging him out for late-night snacks after drinking herself silly when he'd finally gotten her back to her apartment, she'd clung to him, begging him to stay the night. Thankfully, she'd passed out before he could answer. s

Hawthorne waited, making sure Patti wouldn't wake, before slipping away.

Upstairs, the bedside lamp was still on. He frowned, thinking Gwyneth must still be awake.

But she was fast asleep.

In the stillness, she looked so innocent-like a child untouched by the world.

Hawthorne leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He'd rushed home the moment he was free, worried she'd be stewing in her thoughts.

He noticed tears glimmering at the corners of her eyes and gently brushed them away, a wave of guilt washing over him.

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He whispered her name and watched her sleep until dawn.