She turned to me, panic flickering in her eyes—and then suddenly dashed toward the elevator.
The receptionist immediately shouted, "Security! Security!"
It didn't take long before security guards rushed over, pinning Amelia to the floor and trying to drag her out of the building.
Her hands clung desperately to the pillar, fingernails scraping against the surface and leaving long white scratches.
I hovered anxiously nearby, pacing in circles—but there was nothing I could do.
No one could see me, no one could hear me. No one except Amelia.
Just then, the elevator chimed.
Janine walked out with a man beside her, chatting and laughing intimately.
Amelia froze for a second, then suddenly shouted, "Denver!"
The moment Denver saw her, disgust flickered across his face.
"What are you doing here?"
Amelia broke free from the guard, yanked a folder from her bag, and held it out to him.
"You've always wanted a divorce, haven't you? Fine. I agree."
The receptionist and the guards exchanged glances—then looked at Denver, then at Amelia, and finally at Janine. The look on their faces was... priceless.