Ever since Nina left, locking himself in the study and smoking in silence had basically become Ethan’s daily routine.
A document about next quarter’s fiscal budget lay open on the desk, packed tight with black printed numbers.
But in his eyes, those numbers had long since blurred into the look Nina had given him when she walked away—calm, hollow, still as dead water that would never ripple again.
He’d thought she would make a scene.
Based on everything before, she should’ve come back to him obediently, gone on being that gentle, considerate Nina who was always there the second he called.
But this time, she didn’t.
She signed her name, left the ring behind, dragged that old suitcase with the peeling leather, and walked straight into the rain without turning back once.
No crying, no arguing, no trying to make him stay.
She didn’t even bother throwing out one extra harsh word.
That kind of calm was way more unsettling to Ethan than any hysterical screaming ever could be.
It felt like she wasn’t leaving the husband she’d been married to for three years.
It felt like she was tossing out a piece of trash that had been worn out ages ago and meant absolutely nothing.
And he, Ethan, was that trash.
“Mr.
President,” the chief of staff said as he knocked and stepped in, voice lowered carefully, “we’ve confirmed it.
Ms.
Harlow is currently staying in the consular district on the west side of the city.
That villa falls under F Country’s jurisdiction.
Our people…
can’t get in.”
The fingers holding Ethan’s cigarette paused for a beat.
A nameless fire shot up from his chest, burning all the way into his throat.
His jaw tightened.
He crushed the cigarette into the ashtray, grabbed the suit jacket off the back of the chair, and strode out.
“Sir, it’s already late.
Where are you going?
The security team hasn’t finished preparing—”
The black bulletproof sedan tore through the empty elevated highway under the midnight sky.
Ethan didn’t even know why he’d suddenly acted so impulsively.
He only knew one thing—whenever the thought hit him that Nina might really never come back, some corner of his heart would start aching with a strange, heavy pain, dull and suffocating, irritating enough to drive him crazy.
By the time the car stopped outside Fragrance Garden, it was deep into the night.
Ethan got out and looked up.
One of the second-floor windows in the villa was still lit with a soft warm glow.
The curtains were only half drawn, and a slender figure was reflected against the glass.
Just that familiar side profile was enough to make his chest clench hard.
“Stop right there.”
Two men built like iron towers stepped out from the shadows and blocked him cleanly.
“Private property.
No entry.”
Ethan stopped short, and his face darkened instantly.
“Do you people even know who I am?” he demanded coldly, each word squeezed out through clenched teeth.
The bodyguard’s face didn’t change.
“Whoever you are, without Ms.
Harlow’s permission, no one is allowed in.”
“Miss?” Ethan let out a short, icy laugh.
“She’s my wife.
She is the First Lady of Uppergate.
You’re stopping me now—are you trying to cause a diplomatic incident?”
The other bodyguard gave a slight bow.
His tone stayed respectful, but his stance didn’t budge an inch.
“Sorry, sir.
We only follow Ms.
Harlow’s orders.
If you have an appointment, please contact us tomorrow through the proper channels.
For now, please leave.”
Ethan was so angry the veins at his temples started throbbing.
“Nina!” he raised his voice and shouted toward the lit window on the second floor.
“I know you can hear me!
Open the door!”
The figure by the window seemed to move a little, but didn’t turn around.
At that point, Ethan couldn’t care less about presidential poise or dignity anymore.
Both hands grabbed the freezing wrought-iron gate, and when he spoke, his voice sounded rough and cracked in the dead-quiet night.
“I already withdrew the divorce agreement!
Legally, you are still my wife!
Still the First Lady of Uppergate!
Did you hear me or not?”
The figure by the second-floor window finally turned around, slowly.
Ethan’s heart skipped hard.
He thought she would open the window, look at him, maybe even curse him out in anger.
Anything.
But Nina only stood behind the glass and looked at him from afar.
“Don’t keep fighting me like this.
Come back to Platinum Palace with me.
Whatever’s weighing on you, whatever grievances you have, you can say it all to my face.
Everything you lost, I’ll repay little by little.”
As he spoke, he took out two things from inside his suit.
One was a plain wedding band, simple and unremarkable—the only token from the year he and Nina had secretly married.
Ever since Nina had left it behind in the study at Platinum Palace, he had kept it on him at all times.
The other was a black card with an absurdly high limit.
He had specially arranged for it again, and a huge sum had already been deposited into it.
He had planned to place it in Nina’s hand himself, as compensation for the three years of hurt and humiliation she had endured.
Ethan handed the ring and the bank card to the guard inside the gate.
“Everything you left behind, I brought back to you.
Your place at Platinum Palace will always be there.”
Nina stood quietly by the window, listening to Ethan shouting outside the gate, and not a single ripple stirred in her heart.
First Lady.
What a bright, glamorous title.
But for three whole years, that identity had never once been made public to the world.
At Platinum Palace, she was only a regular secretary in public.
She had to put up with servants making things difficult for her, endure Tiffany’s repeated provocation and humiliation, and watch her own husband, for the sake of his childhood sweetheart and the overall financial situation, force her to accept that ridiculous fake divorce.
And now, only after being blocked outside the door, did he suddenly remember that title existed—using it like some last-ditch bargaining chip to make her stay.
Even now, Ethan still didn’t truly get it.
What Nina had wanted was never money, never status.
Back then, she had followed him with nothing but raw courage in her chest, and all she’d ever asked for was one thing: a heart that was honest, loyal, and only hers.
But that kind of sincerity was exactly what Ethan couldn’t give her.
And maybe, deep down, never wanted to.
Nina looked at the familiar figure standing outside the iron gate.
A faint, chilly trace of mockery flashed across her eyes.
She didn’t want to hear another word of his excuses.
Didn’t want to watch this belated show of remorse anymore either.
The dark velvet curtains slowly drew shut.
Ethan kept staring at the second-floor window, now sealed behind those heavy curtains, for a long, long time.
For the first time, something painfully clear rose in his chest.
Maybe this time, Nina really was done.
Really wasn’t going to turn back again.
His hand hanging at his side slowly clenched into a fist, the knuckles turning pale.
After a while, he finally let out a low, heavy breath.