The Day I Lost My Baby, His Mistress Flaunted Her Matching Bracelet novel Chapter 10

As soon as I walked out, I emailed my resignation to HR. 

Whether or not the new boss approved?

Not my problem. 

I didn't even bother with my severance pay.

Instead, I packed up my things and caught the first flight out to Florida that afternoon. 

I'd always wanted to travel—explore the East Coast, the West Coast, everywhere in between. 

But I never had the time.

First, because I was broke.

Then, because of work and life suffocating me at every turn. 

Two months.

That's how long I was gone. 

And for the first time in years, I finally remembered what it felt like to be happy. 

When I got back, sunglasses on, bags in hand, ready to head upstairs, I nearly walked straight into a familiar figure. 

Thin. Exhausted.

Dark circles under his eyes. 

Nathan. 

He'd lost at least twenty pounds, but the moment he saw me, his eyes lit up like a dying fire catching its last bit of oxygen. 

"Madison! Let me help you with those!" 

Was this really Whitmore Group's CEO? 

He reached for my bags like a stray dog desperate for approval.

I shot him a cold look, and he awkwardly retracted his hands. 

"Uh—go ahead, you first." 

At my apartment door, I pulled out my keys, but just as I was about to close it behind me, a hand shoved through the gap, forcing it open. 

"You keep this up, and I'll call the cops for trespassing." 

Nathan opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, my old neighbor, Mrs. Cooper, popped her head out from next door, munching on sunflower seeds. 

"Sweetie, he's been waiting for you every day for the past two months."

"Marriage has its ups and downs, honey."

"Don't throw it all away over one mistake." 

Easy for her to say. 

She'd never had to live my life. 

I stared at Nathan's bruised fingers and let out a long sigh. 

"Fine. Get in."

"I don't want to put on a show for the neighbors." 

I still had a copy of the divorce papers.

Might as well get this over with. 

Nathan stepped inside, pulling out a paper bag and shaking it with a grin. 

"I got all your favorite foods!" 

I narrowed my eyes. 

Since when did he ever cook? 

He made a show of waving his bandaged fingers at me, like he wanted me to see how much he had suffered. 

For ten years, even when we lived in that tiny, rundown apartment, this man never set foot in the kitchen. 

If he tried, something would either catch fire or come out looking like pure charcoal. 

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