Final Approach to Freedom

Chapter 2

Evelyn Montgomery had just finished packing the last piece of clothing into her suitcase when her fingertips brushed against something hard. She pushed aside the fabric and found a long-forgotten photo album.

A thin layer of dust coated the cover. After a moment’s hesitation, she flipped it open to the first page.

In the photograph, she wore a pristine white wedding dress, her smile as bright as spring sunshine. Beside her, Alexander Hartley stood stiffly in his tailored suit, his expression blank, his distant gaze making it seem like he was attending a business meeting rather than his own wedding.

The click of a lighter echoed in the quiet room. A flame flickered to life as Evelyn held the corner of the photo over the fire, watching as the edges curled and blackened, the image of the two of them slowly consumed.

"What are you doing?!"

Alexander’s voice exploded behind her. Before she could turn, a forceful shove sent her stumbling back. The brazier toppled over, scattering burning embers across her bare calves.

She hissed in pain, clutching her leg.

Alexander ignored her, snatching the half-burned photographs from the ashes with his bare hands. Only when he confirmed the images were still recognizable did the tension in his shoulders ease.

"Don’t mix your things with mine again," he said coldly, tossing the charred remnants onto the floor.

Evelyn stared at the fragments—their wedding portrait, now crushed beneath the heel of his polished shoe.

A phone rang abruptly. The moment Alexander answered, his voice softened into something unrecognizable. "Sophia?"

Whatever was said on the other end made his expression tighten. "I’ll be right there."

He strode toward the door, not even glancing at the open suitcase as he passed her.

The slam of the door reverberated through the empty room. Slowly, Evelyn knelt and picked up the scorched remains of the photo. The heat seared her fingertips, but the ache in her chest was far worse.

She opened the first-aid kit, dabbing antiseptic onto the burns with a cotton swab. Her phone screen lit up—a new post from Sophia’s social media.

In the photo, Alexander cradled Sophia’s hand with tender care, his gaze so warm it could melt ice. The caption read: "Nothing compares to being cherished."

Evelyn stared at the image until the screen went dark.

The next day, the burns had swollen, forcing her to seek medical attention.

Freshly bandaged, she turned a corner in the hospital hallway and froze at the sound of familiar voices.

"Seriously? You reserved the entire floor for a minor injury?" Lucas Bennett’s tone was teasing. "Since when does the great Alexander Hartley overreact like this?"

"It hurts her," Alexander replied quietly, each word deliberate. "And that hurts me."

Evelyn’s steps faltered.

"If you love Sophia that much, what about Evelyn?" Lucas hesitated. "You can’t keep stringing her along."

Silence stretched between them. Finally, Alexander spoke. "It’s not the right time."

"What does that mean?" Lucas sounded incredulous. "Don’t tell me you actually have feelings for—"

"Don’t be ridiculous," Alexander cut him off. "A divorce now would destabilize the company’s stocks."

Evelyn leaned against the wall, a bitter laugh caught in her throat. So, in his eyes, she wasn’t even worth a legitimate reason to end things.

"How long do you expect Sophia to wait?" Lucas pressed. "She’s already waited three years."

Alexander didn’t answer. Footsteps faded down the hall, and only when they were gone did Evelyn step out of the shadows.

She stared in the direction they’d left, gripping her medical file so tightly the paper crumpled in her fist—just like her shattered heart.