My gaze swept over the silent, pristine room.
This was supposed to be a home.
Now, it felt like a tomb.
My eyes landed on a framed photo on the wall—Natalie and me. In the picture, her expression was stiff, forced. Compared to the radiant smile I had just seen on the lobby screen, the contrast was a cruel joke.
I grabbed a cardboard box. Walked over to the wall. Ripped the photo down. Tossed it into the box face down.
After packing the few personal items I had left, I called a real estate agent.
"Mr. Simmons? You just finished the renovation," the agent said, confused. "If you sell now, you're going to take a massive loss."
"Sell it." My voice was flat. "The faster, the better."
I hung up and continued packing.
My phone buzzed. A message from Natalie.
*【9:30 PM. Come to the Winston Hotel. Pick up Dominic and me.】*
I stared at the message, the screen blurring slightly.
Finally, I typed a reply.
*【No time.】*
I thought my refusal would trigger a reaction—anger, confusion, something.
But the phone remained dark. Silence.
It wasn't until 9:30 PM that another message arrived.
*【We're having a dinner party. You should come too.】*