Chapter 5
Leaving the towering corporate skyscraper behind, Mary drove her sedan out of the downtown core and headed toward the coast, away from the city's frantic hum. The wedding dress felt increasingly surreal, a theatrical costume from a play she had walked out on before the second act. She drove for nearly an hour until the highway narrowed into a winding coastal road bordered by rugged cliffs and the endless, churning gray of the Atlantic Ocean.
She pulled into the gravel driveway of her private beach house—a secluded glass-and-stone retreat she had purchased years before meeting Ethan, using her own inheritance. The house sat perched on a rocky outcropping, completely isolated from neighbors and tourist paths. It was the one place on earth where she had never allowed Ethan to leave a permanent footprint.
Stepping out of the car, the salty breeze caught the loose strands of her blonde hair, whipping them across her face. She walked up the wooden steps, unlocked the heavy oak front door, and stepped inside. The interior smelled of cedar, old paper, and sea salt. It was quiet, save for the rhythmic crashing of the waves against the rocks far below.
Mary finally allowed herself to exhale—a long, shuddering breath that released hours of accumulated tension. She walked into the master bedroom, stood before the full-length mirror, and began pulling the hairpins from her updo one by one. The intricate structure collapsed, letting her golden hair cascade down her shoulders. Next came the dress. With careful, deliberate movements, she unzipped the heavy satin and tulle gown, letting it pool around her ankles like fallen snow. She stepped out of the pristine white garment, folding it neatly and placing it on a chair by the window. She had no intention of ever wearing it again, but she wouldn't destroy it either. It stood as a monument to a closed chapter.
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Dressed simply in a pair of dark jeans and a cashmere sweater she found in the closet, she walked out onto the wooden deck, holding a mug of black coffee she had brewed. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in bruises of purple, orange, and deep charcoal.
Her phone buzzed violently on the outdoor table. She picked it up. The screen displayed a video call request from an unknown international number. Without hesitation, she declined the call, blocked the number, and tossed the device onto the lounge chair. Out here, against the raw backdrop of the ocean, the corporate wars and boardroom betrayals felt distant, like noise from another planet. But she knew the peace was temporary. Ethan was not the type to accept defeat quietly, and Monday morning was approaching fast.
