The Ex-Wife's Escape: From Betrayal to Revenge

Chapter 13

The New York morning carried a slight chill as Sophia Williams tightened her cashmere shawl, standing before the floor-to-ceiling window. Sunlight spilled through the glass, warming the smooth skin of her bare feet. Seven months had been enough to transform her completely.

The sudden ring of her phone shattered the quiet. The screen flashed with the name of her best friend back home.

"Hello?" she answered, her voice still laced with morning drowsiness.

"Sophia!" Her friend's excited voice crackled through the line. "Guess what? That scumbag Ethan Johnson finally got what he deserved!"

Sophia stirred her coffee absently, watching the dark liquid swirl into tiny whirlpools. The three-story townhouse she rented on Fifth Avenue housed a flower shop on the first floor, an art gallery on the second, and her private living space above.

"Oh?" She took a sip, the bitterness making her frown slightly.

Her friend's words spilled out rapid-fire. "The Johnson family is in complete chaos! Ethan was stripped of his position by the old patriarch, and his shares were revoked. The best part? The shares under his name had already been transferred to you—and you sold them to the Johnson Group's biggest rival!"

Sophia's fingers tapped lightly against the rim of her cup. It had been a carefully calculated move before she left, but the results were even better than she'd anticipated.

"Isabella Taylor got it worse," her friend continued. "Fired from the magazine, disowned by her family. The other day, she made a scene on a rooftop, threatening to jump—only to be hauled off by Ethan and thrown into jail."

Outside the window, pigeons fluttered past, their wings beating against the crisp air. Sophia's gaze followed them. The pain that had once cut so deep now felt like someone else's story.

"Oh, and get this," her friend suddenly lowered her voice, "Ethan's been drinking nonstop, clutching your photo like a madman—"

"Enough," Sophia cut her off. "That's all in the past now."

After hanging up, she stood before her walk-in closet, selecting an evening gown for the opera. The woman in the mirror was radiant, her features flawless—no trace of the haggardness from before.

At the theater, Romeo and Juliet played out on stage. When the male lead gave his life for love, the audience around her dabbed at their tears. Sophia simply watched, her fingers absently tracing the faint mark on her left ring finger—where a wedding band had once sat.

"So tragic, isn't it?" a blonde girl beside her sniffled as they exited.

Sophia smiled faintly. "It's just a story."

At dinner, a young artist at the next table was captivated by her elegance. He knelt with a rose in hand, the restaurant erupting in cheers. Sophia merely shook her head politely.

"Why?" he pressed, unwilling to accept defeat. "Is there something wrong with me?"

Sophia gazed out at the neon-lit cityscape, her voice soft. "It's not you. It's just... I don't believe in love anymore."

On the ride home, her friends lamented the handsome suitor she'd turned down. Sophia leaned against the car window, the lights of New York flickering in her eyes. She thought of Ethan—how, according to her friend's call, he was now clutching her photo in drunken despair.

A mocking smile curved her lips.

If only he'd known then what he knows now.