Chapter 8

For the next three days, I was placed in a so-called "mental health center" for evaluation.

On the surface, it was a private clinic. In reality, it felt more like a disguised detention facility.

My phone was confiscated. My movements were restricted. Every day, I was forced to endure hours of so-called "psychological interviews."

The so-called therapists kept hinting that I had violent tendencies and emotional instability. They tried to make me admit that I had "intentionally harmed" Mr. Monroe.

I clenched my teeth and repeated the same sentence over and over.

"He ran into my car himself. I did not intentionally hurt anyone."

But no one believed me.

I was forced to take "sedative medications." My food intake and sleep schedule were controlled. The drugs left me dizzy, trapped in a hazy state between waking and dreaming.

Curled up in that cold room, I gritted my teeth and counted every passing second.

Three days.

After three days, I would be free.

On the evening of the third day, the heavy door finally creaked open.

Landon stood at the doorway, backlit. I couldn't see his expression clearly.

Only when I walked closer did he seem startled by my appearance.

"What happened to you?"

My face was pale as paper. My eyes were hollow. I had lost noticeable weight. Because of the medication, my hands trembled slightly.

Ava immediately stepped forward and wrapped her arm around his, her voice soft. "Landon, she's obviously pretending to look like this to gain your sympathy."

She curled her lips. "It's just a psychological evaluation. How bad could it be?"

Landon stared at me for a few seconds. In the end, his face turned cold, his tone impatient.

"Eleanor, how long are you going to keep playing this pity game?"

I gave a faint smile. I didn't even have the strength to explain anymore.

Back at the apartment, for once, Landon didn't leave immediately.

He sat on the couch and announced his decision in a calm, unquestionable tone.

"From now on, I'll spend Mondays and Tuesdays with you. The rest of the time, I'll be with Ava."

I stood at the top of the stairs, saying nothing.

"Today's Wednesday. I'll go see her now." He stood up, picking up his coat. "For the next few days, don't disturb me."

At the door, he turned back and added, "I'll be back next Monday."

I looked at him and said calmly, "Alright. Goodbye."

How ridiculous.

He actually thought I would still be here waiting for him?

Landon frowned, clearly surprised by my calmness, but said nothing more before leaving.

The moment the apartment door closed, my phone suddenly vibrated.

It was an encrypted message from my lawyer.

"Ms. Vance, the divorce has been finalized. Your identity transfer documents are complete. You may depart at any time."

I stared at the message, my eyes instantly filling with tears. My heart pounded violently, as if it would burst out of my chest.

I was free.

Without hesitation, I grabbed the suitcase I had already packed and walked out of that gilded cage without looking back.

JFK International Airport.

My parents were already waiting at the gate. When my mother saw me, her eyes reddened, and she pulled me into a tight embrace.

"My dear, it's all over."

My own eyes burned as I nodded firmly.

Yes.

It was all over.

Six years ago, on a snowy night, Landon Blackwood had stood on my parents' lawn and vowed to carve me into his life.

And now, I had carved his name out of mine.

As I prepared to board, I took out my phone, removed the SIM card, and snapped it cleanly in half between my fingers.

"Here is your boarding pass," the staff member said politely.

I tossed the broken SIM card into a nearby trash bin, took the boarding pass, and held my parents' hands as we walked toward the gate.

My back was straight. My steps never faltered.

From this moment on, there would never again be a place in my world for Landon Blackwood.