Chapter 130: Chapter-130. (I’ll Protect Myself).
I said quietly, "I am not asking for your approval. Just your cooperation. You had your chance to protect me once. You didn’t. Now I’ll protect myself."
For a moment, I thought Dave would argue, but surprisingly, he didn’t. He just stared down, shoulders tight, eyes glassy with things he wasn’t ready to say. Now now. Not in front of them, especially.
Nicole’s nod was the only acknowledgment that mattered. Grace’s glare, the only proof that she still had not learned her lesson yet.
I leaned forward, clinking my hands together looking at them straight into their eyes, "This isn’t about revenge, but correction." I said it out in my calm and composing voice making them feel the seriousness of the matter.
The moment Nicole and Grace stood up, the mood in the room changed.
The sound of the chairs scraping against the floor broke the tense silence. Everyone knew the conversation was over, but the air still felt heavy.
Nicole straightened his blazer and looked at me. His face was calm as always, but there was something different in his eyes.
Maybe a mix of thought and curiosity. He didn’t say anything, just gave a small nod before turning toward the door.
That was his quiet way of saying he understood the assignment and maybe even agreed to my terms which felt like a first win.
But, on the other hand, Grace felt like another speed breaker in my way. She did not move so smoothly like her brother.
She stood up fast, the chair screeching across the floor. Her jaw was tight, her eyes full of fire. She grabbed her purse from the table, still glaring at me as if she could burn holes through my skin.
"Well, "looks like the queen has spoken." She said loudly, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Nicole gave her a sharp look, but this time she ignored it completely. She stepped closer to the table, still facing me.
"You think you can walk back in here and start giving orders again?" she said, her tone rising.
"You think just because you talk like that now, we will all fall in line?" I didn’t answer.
I just kept observing her moves.
My silence seemed to make her angrier. She smirked, trying to look confident. "You really have not learned your lesson, have you?" she said.
That’s when I stood up. Slowly.
The movement was calm but deliberate. The legs of the chair made a deep scraping sound as I pushed it back. Grace stopped talking.
I did not raise my voice. I just looked at her and said quietly, "If you want to finish that sentence, do it. Otherwise, leave."
Her eyes widened for a second. She tried to look brave, but her voice shook when she spoke. "You think you can scare me?"
"No, I think you scare yourself." I said softly.
Her lips trembled slightly, and her fingers tightened around her purse strap. I could see her breathing faster, but she didn’t reply.
Nicole’s voice broke the silence. "Grace," he said firmly.
"Enough." His voice echoed through the room thick with tension.
She turned toward him, still fuming," But Nicole, she does not get to talk to me like that..."
"Grace," he repeated, his tone sharper this time.
That made her finally shut up.
She looked back at me one last time, her eyes full of anger and something that looked a lot like hurt.
Then she spun around and stormed toward the door. The click of her heels echoed through the room before the door slammed shut behind her.
Nicole stayed for a moment. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "You did know how to get under her skin now, do you?" He said quietly.
I gave a small smile. "She makes it easy."
He gave another small nod, then walked out too, closing the door softly behind him.
Now it was just me, and him.
It was heavier.
Quieter.
Uncomfortably still.
The door clicked shut behind them, and I could almost hear my heartbeat in the silence that followed.
Dave hadn’t moved. He was still sitting there, hands clasped tightly on the table, his jaw clenched so hard I could see the muscle twitch near his ear.
His eyes...those deep, familiar eyes were now burning red, not from anger, but from something else.
Confusion.
Shock.
Maybe even hurt, but I didn’t let that get to me. Not anymore.
I stayed seated, posture straight, expression composed.
My hands rested lightly on the table, fingers still, not fidgeting. There was no need to rise or react to their exit.
My stillness was enough.
He broke the silence first. His voice came low, rough. "Why?"
Just one word, but it carried so much weight that it almost echoed off the walls.
I blinked slowly, keeping my tone neutral. "It doesn’t matter."
I started to get up, wanting to end this before it turned into another emotional mess. It was something I could not afford to fall into again, but his next words stopped me cold.
"No," he said sharply, his tone firm and steady in a way that made me freeze mid-step.
"You can’t just walk away without giving me answers." The moment those words came out of his mouth something inside me snapped at that.
Answers? He wanted freaking answers.
My mind flashed back to all those nights I had spent waiting for answers from him.
Waiting for him to talk, to explain, to care.
When I had asked why he was so distant.
When I had asked what I had done wrong.
When I had asked how can I make him love me.
And every single time, he had turned his back.
Stayed silent.
Left me hanging in a fog of confusion and pain.
Now he had the audacity to demand answers from me?
I looked at him and something bitter rose in my chest.
My expression hardened, but my voice stayed calm, almost too calm. "It’s nothing personal."
For a second, I thought he had let it go, but then, his palm slammed down on the table so hard the cutlery rattled and clinked against each other.
The sound cut through the silence like a whip.
"It’s damn personal!" he shouted, his voice raw and trembling with frustration.
I didn’t even flinch.
Instead, I scoffed.
A sharp, humorless sound that came out before I could stop it, "Now you’re speaking of honesty and transparency?" I leaned forward slightly, my tone laced with mockery.
"Then fine. Let’s be honest." I said fisting my hands not wanting lose my control completely.
His eyes flickered in confusion as I straightened my posture, taking a steady breath.
"Before all of this mess, before Josh, before the lies, before everything, I already told you I wanted a divorce."
The color drained from his face. His brows furrowed, like he was trying to process what I had just said.
I continued, voice cold but calm, "And second, how long were you planning to hide it? How long were you going to pretend that you didn’t remember anything? That you had amnesia or mental trauma from the accident? How long were you going to make everyone, including me believe you were broken?"
The words hung in the air like a blade between us.
Dave’s mouth parted slightly, but no words came out. His breath hitched, and for the first time, I saw genuine shock.
A real, unfiltered, painful shock, spread across his face.
He had not expected me to know, let alone say it out loud, and that made it all the more satisfying.
A small, cold smile crept to my lips as I looked at him, completely still, completely wordless.
"That’s what I thought," I said softly, almost a whisper.
He just stared at me, eyes wide, lips slightly parted, struggling to even breathe.
Good. Let him sit with that silence. Let him feel it for once.
For once, let him be the one left without answers.
I pushed my chair back, the legs scraping lightly against the floor. The sound filled the tense space like a statement...final and deliberate.
Slowly, I stood up, adjusting the lapel of my coat.
My heels clicked once against the marble floor as I took a step back.
He still didn’t move. His eyes followed me, the look on his face unreadable. A mix of disbelief, guilt, and something else I could not place.
I stopped by the door and turned slightly, enough to catch his expression one last time.
"That’s what I expected," I said quietly.
For a moment, I almost pitied him. Almost.
But pity had no place left inside me. I had spent too long drowning in his silence, his avoidance, his half-truths.
Not anymore.
Without another word, I turned and reached for the door handle. My hand didn’t shake, not even once. I opened the door and stepped out, holding my head high.
The corridor outside was empty and quiet, but I could still feel his gaze on my back. That heavy, burning stare that followed me until the door closed completely between us.
And when it did, I finally exhaled. A slow, long breath that I didn’t even know I had been holding.
The air outside felt different. Lighter.
For the first time in a long while, I wasn’t walking away broken. I wasn’t escaping to cry in silence or to question myself.
I was leaving because I chose to.
Because the girl who once waited for his answers was gone.
The woman walking out now didn’t need them anymore.
I stepped into the main lobby, my heels clicking rhythmically across the marble floor.
The faint sound of chatter and clinking glasses filled the air, but it all felt distant, like background noise to a moment that meant more than anything else.
As I reached the door, the cold night air brushed against my skin. The city lights reflected faintly on the restaurant’s glass windows, glowing gold and blue.
Calm yet sharp, just like me now.
I looked up for a second, drawing in a deep breath, feeling the strange calm settle over me.
The bomb had been dropped. The truth was out.
And now, finally, I had control.