[You’ve never seen this side of him before, have you? Oh, by the way, because of what happened, he’s decided we’ll get our marriage license in three days. I’ll be sure to send you the invitation. Don’t forget to come!]
Attached was a photo of Ridley cooking for her.
After reading the messages, my expression didn’t change.
I simply gathered the recipe collections and soup formulas I had spent the past ten years compiling for him. I burned them all to ash.
While Ridley took Lynzee out on a yacht.
I shattered the clay figurines we had once made together.
Ridley bought Lynzee an aerial garden.
I dug up the rose garden he had planted for me, roots and all, and burned it to the ground.
Ridley posed for a family portrait with Lynzee and their son.
I took the ten photo albums Ridley had once saved for us, cut them to pieces, burned them, and buried the ashes—along with our wedding portrait—beneath the garden soil.
In just a few short days, I had erased every trace of the past ten years.
Even the villa’s interior felt hollow and empty.
But with Ridley’s heart and attention fully devoted to Lynzee now, I doubted he would even notice when he returned.