<h1 ss="dib mb0 fw700 fs24 lh1.5">Chapter 2: A Quiet Farewell, A Resolute Dawn</h1>


    Damien Thorne pulled into the driveway of his estate, the sleek ck caring to a smooth stop. Beside him, Cora bounced in her seat, still bubbling with excitement from their day out.


    “That was the best day ever, Daddy!” she eximed, unbuckling her seatbelt with practiced ease.


    Damien smiled at his daughter. “I’m d you enjoyed it, princess.”


    As they entered the grand foyer, Mrs. Gable approached them, her expression unreadable. “Wee home, Mr. Thorne, Miss Cora.”


    “Mrs. Gable,” Damien nodded, handing her his coat. “Any calls?”


    “Mrs. Thorne was here earlier today,” she replied, her tone carefully neutral.


    Cora’s eyes widened. “Mommy was here? Did she leave already?”


    “Yes, Miss Cora. She left for the airport about two hours ago.”


    Damien frowned slightly. “I wasn’t aware she was nning to visit.”


    “She said it was a surprise,” Mrs. Gable exined. “She seemed quite upset when she left.”


    Cora shrugged, already losing interest. “Good. I didn’t want her to ruin our ns with Auntie Vivi tomorrow.”


    “Cora,” Damien admonished gently, though without much conviction. He turned back to Mrs. Gable. “Did she say why she was upset?”


    “No, sir.” Mrs. Gable hesitated before adding, “But she left this for you.” She handed him a cream-colored envelope with his name written in ra’s elegant handwriting.


    Damien took it, turning it over in his hands with mild curiosity. “Thank you, Mrs. Gable.”


    “Daddy, can I watch my movie now?” Cora asked, tugging at his sleeve.


    “Of course. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”


    Damien walked to his study, envelope in hand. He ced it on his desk, intending to read it after checking his emails. ra was probably just upset about him forgetting her birthday. It wouldn’t be the first time she had written him a letter expressing her disappointment.


    Before he could open it, his phone rang. Vivienne’s name shed on the screen.


    “Vivienne,” he answered, a smile warming his voice.


    “I was just calling to say how much I enjoyed today,” her sultry voice came through. “And to confirm our ns for tomorrow.”


    “Of course. Cora can’t stop talking about the zoo.”


    “I can’t wait. And what about tonight?” she asked suggestively.


    Damien nced at the envelope, then pushed it aside. “I can be there in an hour.”


    “Perfect. Don’t keep me waiting too long.”


    After the call, Damien gathered what he needed for the night. The envelopey forgotten on his desk as he left, his mind already upied with thoughts of Vivienne.


    —


    Morning sunlight filtered through the blinds of ra’s apartment in the city. She had purchased it years ago as an investment property, never thinking she would one day use it as her escape.


    The space was sparsely furnished but elegant, much like ra herself. She had spent the night methodically unpacking the essentials she had brought from New York – clothes, toiletries, a few cherished books.


    Sitting at her dining table with a cup of tea, she opened herptop and logged into her bank ount. With steady hands, she transferred just over three million dors from her personal ount to a new one she had created yesterday.


    It was money Damien had given her over the years – “spending money,” he had called it. Money she had barely touched, preferring to earn her own sry as head of his secretarial team.


    “It’s not about the money,” she whispered to herself, closing herptop with finality.


    Her phone vibrated with an iing call. For a heartbeat, she wondered if it might be Damien, finally noticing her absence. But the screen showed Chloe’s name instead.


    “Hey,” ra answered, her voice steadier than she expected.


    “You did it, didn’t you?” Chloe asked without preamble. “You finally left him.”


    “Yes.”


    “God, it’s about time!” Chloe’s relief was palpable through the phone. “Where are you now? Do you need anything?”


    “I’m at my apartment in the city. I’m fine, Chloe.” ra’s gaze drifted to the unpacked boxes. “Better than fine, actually.”


    “Have you heard from him yet?”


    “No. I doubt he’s even noticed I’m gone.” The truth of that statement didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would.


    “What about Cora?”


    ra’s heart tightened. “I usually call her every night when I’m away. I didn’t callst night.”


    “And?”


    “And nothing. No missed calls. No messages asking where I am.” ra took a steadying breath. “It’s clearer than ever that I’m not needed in that house.”


    “You’re doing the right thing, El. It’s time you put yourself first for once.”


    After ending the call, ra showered and dressed with care. She chose a simple navy blue dress that she hadn’t worn in years – something professional but distinctly not part of her “Mrs. Thorne” wardrobe.


    She had one more tie to sever.


    —


    Thorne Industries upied the top floors of a gleaming skyscraper in the heart of the financial district. ra had worked there for the past five years, rising to head of the secretarial team through genuine talent and dedication, despite the whispers about nepotism.


    She bypassed the executive elevators she usually took with Damien, instead joining other employees in the main lift. A few gave her curious nces – Mrs. Thorne rarely came in without her husband, and never dressed so… ordinarily.


    Marcus Cole, the Human Resources Director, looked up in surprise when she knocked on his door.


    “Mrs. Thorne! I wasn’t expecting you today.”


    “Please, call me ra,” she said, taking a seat across from him. “I won’t be Mrs. Thorne much longer.”


    Marcus blinked, clearly caught off guard. “I… see.”


    She ced a sealed envelope on his desk. “My resignation, effective immediately. I’ve already prepared detailed handover notes for my team.”


    “This is quite sudden,” Marcus said, picking up the envelope cautiously, as if it might burn him. “Does Mr. Thorne know about this?”


    “He will soon enough.” ra’s smile was small but resolute. “I’ve umted quite a bit of vacation time. I’d like to use that instead of working through a notice period, if that’s eptable.”


    Marcus nodded slowly, still processing. “Of course. That’s perfectly withinpany policy.”


    “Thank you. I’ve already cleared out my desk.” She stood, extending her hand. “It’s been a pleasure working with you, Marcus.”


    He took her hand, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. “Likewise, Mrs… ra. If you don’t mind my asking, what do you n to do now?”


    For the first time in years, ra smiled without restraint. “I’m going back to where I belong.”


    As she left his office, ra felt a weight lifting from her shoulders. Seven years of trying to be the perfect wife to a man who didn’t want her. Seven years of dimming her own light to amodate his indifference.


    No more.


    Her phone vibrated in her purse. She checked the screen – Julian Croft, her old college friend and business partner, the man she had abandoned her dreams for when she married Damien.


    “Perfect timing,” she murmured, answering the call as she stepped into the elevator. “Julian? Yes, it’s done. I’ming home.”


    The elevator doors closed on ra Vance – not Thorne – standing tall, her face set with quiet determination as she descended away from the empire her husband had built, toward the life she had once forsaken.