Chapter 4 The End of Love

Serena Sinclair's POV:

My head throbbed with pain from the hangover as I stumbled toward the bathroom. The face in the mirror was both familiar and strange—my hair had been cut short, just above my shoulders, and the natural waves were more pronounced without the weight of the longer length.

Yesterday's spa day with Sarah had been more than just pampering; it had been an act of rebellion. I ran my fingers through the newly shortened strands, remembering Alex's possessive appreciation of my long hair. He'd always said it made me look softer, more feminine. The thought made me grimace now. How many other little ways had he tried to shape me into his ideal wife?

A knock at the suite door pulled me from my contemplation. The courier who stood outside looked bored, holding out his scanner for my signature. The manila envelope he handed over felt impossibly heavy for something made of paper.

My hands didn't shake as I opened it. Inside, exactly as I'd left them on Alex's desk, were the divorce papers – now bearing his bold signature across every marked line. He'd signed them all, probably in one angry flourish. I could picture him at his desk, jaw clenched, pride wounded, determined to call what he thought was my bluff.

I spread the documents across the suite's elegant writing desk, methodically arranging them alongside the other necessary paperwork. Everything needed to legally end four years of marriage and seven years of us. When the second courier arrived within the hour, I handed over the papers bound for the courthouse with steady hands and a clear conscience.

As the afternoon light spilled through The Plaza's grand entrance, I adjusted my new blazer – one of last night's purchases on Alex's card – and waited for Sarah. Just then, another courier approached with a slim envelope. Inside was a single document: the final divorce decree. Alex must have pulled strings to expedite the process, probably hoping to hurt me with how quickly he could discard our marriage.

Due to my divorce with Alex, I split a total of 6 million dollars in cash and 3 million in funds. I deposited 3 million dollars into a fixed deposit and kept the other 3 million. Sarah worked in finance and needed to achieve performance targets, so I was planning to invest with her to help her improve her performance.

Sarah's Porsche pulled up just as I processed the document's implications. She took one look at my face and the paper in my hand, and her expression shifted from cheerful to concerned.

"Is that—"

"It's done," I said, sliding into the passenger seat. "Officially divorced before lunch."

As we pulled away from The Plaza, Sarah's phone rang through the car's speakers. She glanced at the screen and quickly answered, "Hi, Grandpa."

I turned to look out the window, trying to give her privacy while feeling the weight of my own guilt. Professor Steven had been more than just a teacher – he'd been a mentor, someone who'd believed in my potential. And how had I repaid that faith? By marrying Alex, his rival's student, right after graduation and becoming a full-time housewife without ever working.

After ending the call with her grandfather, Sarah was quiet for a moment, her hands steady on the steering wheel. "Alex is truly awful. Because you married him, my grandpa took early retirement. You can imagine how devastating it was for him when you married Alex."

My nose stung with emotion as I lowered my eyes. Back then, Professor Steven and Professor Anderson were competing for tenure. Professor Steven's best asset was me, while Professor Anderson's trump card was Alex. When I withdrew from the overseas competition that year, it dealt Professor Steven a heavy blow. What he couldn't accept was that the talent he had painstakingly nurtured not only abandoned the legal profession but ended up becoming a housewife for Professor Anderson's student.

"From then on, My grandpa always stood in Professor Anderson's shadow," Sarah continued. "Because of Alex bringing such prestige, Professor Anderson was even invited to stay on after retirement."

"I've let Professor Steven down," I said, staring out the window.

Even Sarah, his own granddaughter, didn't receive as much attention as I did. And how did I repay him? By letting his later years end in such an undignified way. Tears welled up in my eyes uncontrollably.

"Oh, don't blame yourself. My grandpa and Professor Anderson have been rivals their whole lives," Sarah reassured me. "If you want to talk about disappointing him, I've done far worse. He wanted to groom me as his successor, but I went into finance instead. He was so angry he didn't eat for three days."

"How is Professor Steven now?" I asked hoarsely.

"He's doing well. After retirement, he spends his time gardening. He's quite content." Sarah paused. "I'm going to visit him tomorrow. Would you like to come with me?"

I felt too ashamed. "Maybe after I find a job," I said, looking down at my hands. I needed to achieve something first before I could face the professor who had nurtured me so carefully.

"Speaking of jobs," Sarah said, "Grandpa says he's already recommended you to Phillip at Kingsley & Associates. He thinks you'd be perfect for their new associate position."

Later that evening at the Plaza, I stared at Phillip Kingston's number on my screen. After a moment's hesitation, I pressed the call button.

"Phillip Kingston speaking." His voice was clear and measured.

"Hello, I'm Serena Sinclair," I said, taking a deep breath. "Professor Steven's student."

There was a moment of silence on the other end. "Professor Steven has mentioned you," Phillip's voice was calm and professional. "He holds your abilities in high regard."

"I appreciate his confidence," I replied, struggling to keep my voice even, "but I must admit, I haven't had any formal practice experience since graduation."

"Some skills don't disappear with time, Ms. Sinclair," he responded, his tone carrying a reassuring certainty. "Especially true legal thinking."

This trust in my abilities, even from a stranger, gave me a long-forgotten sense of professional confidence. Why would Phillip have such faith in Professor Steven's assessment of me?

"Tomorrow at three o'clock, Kingsley & Associates," he concluded without waiting for further explanation. "We'll conduct a formal interview."

After hanging up, I sat quietly for a moment, surprised by the unexpected opportunity. Tomorrow would be my first step back into the world I should never have left.