Monster Billionaire Husband, Let Me Go

Chapter 12: Out of Control

The sunlight was bright that day, but it couldn't reach Percy Sullivan's eyes.

We were walking in the park when a couple in the distance suddenly erupted into a violent argument.

The man bellowed, "Just wait till we get home—I'll beat you to death!"

The woman fired back, "Take one step toward me, and I'll stab you!"

Bystanders quickly scattered, but Percy froze in place.

I saw his fingers trembling.

The fight escalated.

When the man shoved the woman to the ground, Percy lunged forward like an arrow loosed from a bow.

He shielded her—only to collapse to his knees the next second, gasping for air as if suffocating.

Another episode.

I dropped beside him, rubbing his back in slow circles.

His skin was icy, his shirt soaked with sweat.

The setting sun stretched our shadows long across the grass until the last golden streak faded from the sky.

Only then did his breathing finally steady.

"Sorry," he murmured, curled up on the lawn, his voice feather-light. "For making you see me like this again."

I shook my head. "It's fine."

"You're lying." His smile was bitter. "I've seen your photos from Dali. Your eyes used to shine. But now..."

His voice cracked.

Following his gaze, I realized his phone screen displayed a picture of me on horseback.

In the photo, my lips were curved, but the joy didn't reach my eyes—nothing like the unguarded happiness I'd known in Dali.

"I wanted to make you happy," he whispered, fists clenched. "But I ruined that too."

Night fell as we walked back to the hotel in silence.

Percy stayed quiet, occasionally checking work emails.

Only at bedtime did he hesitantly speak: "Tomorrow... I have a new birthday gift for you."

The next morning, he stood at my door in a crisp suit.

"Let's go to the civil affairs office," he said. "We're getting divorced."

I froze.

The man who had once been terrifyingly obsessive now had eyes as still as stagnant water.

"Why?" I heard myself ask.

He smiled, though the corners of his eyes were red. "Because you're unhappy."

Sunlight streamed through the hallway windows, casting dappled shadows across his face.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he whispered, barely audible, "It took me too long to understand—love isn't about possession."

On the way to the office, his tears burned against my palm, searing like molten metal.

When we stepped out of the car, he scrubbed his face with his sleeve and forced a smile.

"Sophia," he said, voice shaking, "this is my birthday gift to you."

A ragged breath.

"You're free."