Chapter 2

The decision, once made, settled in Chloe' s mind with a terrifying clarity. It wasn't a flare of anger, but a cold, hard certainty. The Mind-Link system, her trusted guide for seven years, was a liar.

[Mind-Link Notification: Kerr' s disappointment is a reflection of his deep investment in you. He expects more from the woman he loves. He will wait for you to realize your mistake and come back to him, penitent and loving.]

Chloe let out a dry, humorless laugh that scraped her throat. Penitent. The system and Kerr seemed to share the same vocabulary. Did he think she was a dog to be trained? To be punished with neglect and rewarded with the presence of another woman?

For years, every cruel act had been reframed as a "test." A test of her patience, her devotion, her love. She had passed every single one, sacrificing her dignity, her art, her very self on the altar of his supposed affection. And what was her reward? To be left alone in a hospital bed while he paraded her rival around.

The love she had cherished, the deep, unspoken passion she believed in, had died. It hadn't been a sudden death. It was a slow, agonizing decay, a death by a thousand cuts. This was just the final, fatal blow.

The day she was discharged, a lawyer she' d found online met her at a quiet café. The papers were drawn up quickly. Divorce. Division of assets. She was entitled to half of everything acquired during their marriage, a staggering sum.

The lawyer, a sharp woman named Ms. Albright, raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you don't want to contest for more? Given the circumstances-"

"No," Chloe said firmly. "I just want what's mine by law. And I want it done quietly."

Ms. Albright nodded, her expression professional but with a hint of sympathy. "He'll need to sign these. It will be difficult if he's unwilling."

"He'll sign," Chloe said, a plan already forming in her mind.

She returned to the sprawling, empty mansion that had been her gilded cage. Kerr wasn't there. He hadn't come to the hospital once after that first day. His social media, however, was unusually active. Photos of him and Gina at charity galas, at exclusive restaurants, on a weekend trip to Napa. Gina would post a corresponding photo moments later, a glass of champagne in her hand, her smile triumphant.

[Mind-Link Notification: An excellent strategy. Kerr is making you jealous to remind you of what you stand to lose. He is waiting for you to break and call him.]

Chloe looked at the photos on her phone, at Kerr's cold, handsome face, and felt nothing. Not jealousy. Not even pain. Just a profound, hollow emptiness.

She walked through the house, a stranger in her own home. She began to pack, not her clothes, but the things that tied her to him. The first painting he'd ever bought from her, a small, abstract piece she' d poured her heart into. She found it in a storage closet, covered in a dust sheet, tucked behind a set of golf clubs. He' d never even hung it up.

She found the delicate porcelain music box he' d given her for their first anniversary. It was supposed to play her favorite classical piece. She opened it. It was broken. It had probably been broken for years.

Every object was a testament to his neglect. She gathered them all-the photos, the gifts, the dried bouquet from their wedding-and carried them out to the large trash bins at the side of the house.

One by one, she dropped them in. The sound of a photo frame cracking, of porcelain shattering, was strangely satisfying. It was the sound of her illusions breaking.

[Mind--Link Notification: Warning! Destruction of sentimental items will be interpreted by Kerr as a direct rejection. His love is tied to these symbols. He will be deeply, irreparably hurt.]

"Good," Chloe whispered to the empty air. "I hope he is."

As she turned to go back inside, a sleek black sports car pulled into the driveway. Kerr.

He got out of the car, his eyes immediately landing on her, then on the overflowing trash bin. A thunderous look crossed his face.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

"Cleaning," Chloe replied, her tone even.

He strode towards her, his tall frame radiating a palpable anger. "These are... our things."

"They're just things, Kerr," she said calmly, meeting his gaze without flinching.

He looked like he wanted to say more, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists. But just then, another car pulled up. Gina.

She got out, carrying a small, expensive-looking box. "Kerr, darling, you left your cufflinks at my place this morning."

Her eyes flickered between Kerr and Chloe, a small, triumphant smile playing on her lips. She could feel the tension, and she relished it.

Kerr' s rage seemed to deflate, replaced by a weary annoyance. He didn't want this scene. Not now.

"Thank you, Gina," he said, his voice clipped. He took the box from her without looking at her. He turned to Chloe, his expression a mask of cold indifference once more. "We'll talk about this later."

He then turned to Gina, his voice softening just enough to be a slap in Chloe's face. "Let me walk you to your car."

He escorted Gina back to her vehicle, his hand on the small of her back, a gesture of casual intimacy he had never once offered his own wife.

Chloe watched them, a memory surfacing with painful clarity. One night, years ago, she had a high fever. She' d asked him to get her a glass of water. He' d looked at her from his desk, annoyed at the interruption, and told her to get it herself.

The love he couldn't be bothered to show her, he gave so freely to a woman he was using as a pawn.

[Mind-Link Notification: A masterful deflection. He is removing Gina from the situation to deal with you privately. This confrontation is for your eyes only.]

She didn't need the notification to tell her what he was doing. She didn't care anymore. Love that had to be explained, that had to be "tested" and "proven" through pain and humiliation, wasn't love at all. It was just an excuse for cruelty.

She turned her back on them, walked into the silent house, and closed the door. The sound of his anger, of Gina's presence, of the chirping notifications, all faded away. There was only silence, and in it, the quiet, steady beat of her own resolve.