Helena didn’t answer David’s call. Instead, after the ringing stopped, she sent him a text.  

"My divorce lawyer will reach out to you. Pass whatever you have to say through him."  

After sending the message, she blocked his number. She had no intention of continuing to communicate with that moron. There were plans in place for him, but first, she needed to divorce him. That was the first step toward her now very selfish goals in life.  

The next day, she received a surprising call from her lawyer, who informed her that David was contesting the divorce and wanted to remain married.  

She was both livid and confused. Anger surged through her—he refused to give her the freedom she had longed for. Just a week from now, she had imagined herself single, finally free. But confusion gnawed at her as well. She had expected him to welcome the divorce, considering he already had someone else he loved and valued. Not to mention, he had left her to die at the hands of her kidnappers. So why was he holding on now?  

Regardless of his reasons, Helena was willing to fight for her freedom in court, even if it meant spending all her money.  

Unfortunately, the court battle wasn’t in her favor. A sinking feeling settled in her stomach as she suspected the judge had been bribed by David. With that realization, it felt like her life was slipping out of her grasp once again. Enduring the sight of David was one thing, but she also had to face the constant berating from her mother, Martha Davison, and her sister, Larissa.  

They accused her of trying to bring shame upon the family.  

Their words didn’t wound her anymore; instead, they fueled the fire raging inside her. When she had been trapped in a loveless marriage, belittled by both her husband and mother-in-law, she had turned to them for help. But they had done nothing, telling her to endure it for the sake of the family. Worse, they had accused her of exaggerating her suffering. She remembered those nights when she had cried herself to sleep.  

---  

Sunday arrived, and Helena lay lazily in bed at the hotel she had booked. The court hearings had been exhausting, both physically and emotionally. She couldn't stop wondering why David was going to such lengths—bribing a judge just to keep her tied to him.  

She knew it wasn’t love. It had to be something else. She would find out, but only after she was divorced.  

A sudden knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. She sighed and asked, “Who is it?”  

“Room service,” a feminine and unfamiliar voice replied.  

Helena frowned. “But I didn’t order anything.”  

Silence.  

Curious, she walked to the door and opened it, only to find no one there. Instead, a brown envelope lay on the floor. She picked it up, shut the door behind her, and sat on the bed before carefully opening it.  

Inside were photographs—pictures of David and Rose together, kissing and behaving intimately. Her hands trembled as she found a drive card enclosed within the envelope. Without hesitation, she inserted it into her laptop.  

A sex tape.  

David and Rose.  

It was disgusting to watch, but what should have crushed her before now filled her with hope. With this evidence in her hands, there was no way the judge could rule in David’s favor.  

At the next hearing, her lawyer presented the evidence, along with a police report detailing her kidnapping. It explicitly stated that David had paid the ransom only for Rose, his mistress, leaving Helena to die. The evidence highlighted his utter neglect of her.  

After a prolonged back-and-forth in court, Helena was finally granted a divorce.  

She was free.  

Helena didn’t care how David felt. She didn’t care about the expression on his face when the truth was revealed. Throughout the entire hearing, she had never once seen his eyes. Deep down, she hadn’t wanted him to see how much he had truly hurt her.  

As she exited the civil affairs bureau, David suddenly rushed after her.  

“Wait, Helen!” he called out.  

She froze. That name. He hadn’t called her that in years.  

For the first time that day, she turned to face him. Truthfully, she had expected that looking into his beautiful amber eyes would make her waver—just as it always had in the past. But surprisingly, it didn’t. His eyes no longer held the same beauty. They lacked their once mesmerizing shine.  

At that moment, she knew.  

She had moved on from her unrequited love.  

As he stepped closer, she raised her hand and slapped him across the cheek.  

“Mr. Hamilton, we are now strangers. Never call me by that name again,” she warned sternly. “Better yet, never call or speak to me at all.”  

With that, she turned and walked away.  

“Wait… was it really true? Were you kidnapped?” His voice was barely above a whisper, and if they hadn’t been standing close, she wouldn’t have heard him.  

Helena didn’t answer. She kept walking.  

She knew he wouldn’t try anything foolish in public, and as she expected, he let her go.  

---  

The days that followed passed in a blur. She moved to another city, far from her ex-husband and family, and found a small apartment.  

It was tiny, but it was hers. And that was enough.  

She didn’t have much to move in—no furniture, no appliances—so the space felt empty. But she decided to focus on unpacking what little she had and worry about the rest later.  

While sorting through her things, she came across a card—the one given to her by the receptionist at the hospital. It was only then that she realized she hadn’t contacted the person who had saved her.  

Guilt settled over her.  

During the chaos of her divorce battle, it had completely slipped her mind. She had been at one of the lowest points of her life, and her mind had been overwhelmed with too many things, especially at night.  

But she couldn’t put it off any longer.  

Dialing the number, she set up a meeting with her rescuer. She insisted on going to him, but he refused, saying he would come to her instead. They agreed to meet at a nearby café.  

She waited for an hour, almost convinced that he wasn’t going to show up. Just as she was about to give up, a tall, imposing figure entered the café.  

Even before he introduced himself, she knew.  

She knew exactly who he was.  

Blanefield Hamilton.  

Her ex-husband’s uncle.