Ditching Me for His 'Soulmate'? His Loss. Next Stop: My New Life novel Chapter 74

Chapter 6

As I sifted through the files the private investigator had sent me, my pulse quickened with every new revelation. Each piece of information hit me harder than the last, shaking the foundation of what I thought I knew.

All this time, Silas had been entangled in a vast business venture, operating in complete secrecy from me.

And, shockingly, it wasn’t I who had inadvertently caused Rebecca to lose her innocence, as I had once feared.

Glancing again at the divorce papers Silas had just forwarded, the fury and sorrow that had engulfed me moments before suddenly evaporated. It was a strange kind of relief, as if a heavy fog had lifted from my mind.

Sometimes, I realized, the people we consider villains in our lives are the very ones who push us to rediscover ourselves, to reclaim who we truly are.

Nearby, a few women continued to murmur spiteful remarks, but I didn’t waste a second looking back or engaging them. Instead, I handed over all the incriminating evidence to the institute’s director, entrusting him to deal with it however he deemed appropriate.

Without hesitation, I rushed home to gather my belongings. Within two hours, I was boarding a flight bound for Boston, intent on meeting with my professor before heading onward to Indonesia.

Upon landing, I couldn’t help but notice Rebecca’s social media update: Silas down on one knee, presenting her with ninety-nine roses in a grand proposal.

The scene was lavish—a five-star hotel, an exquisite gown, a towering champagne fountain sparkling under the lights, and a crowd of onlookers celebrating with fluttering streamers. It was far more extravagant than the modest wedding Silas and I had shared.

Back then, we were just two struggling graduates from MIT, fresh with degrees in nuclear physics but without a penny to our name.

Our professor had officiated our small ceremony, and we celebrated with a simple meal alongside a handful of classmates.

That night, in our cramped 300-square-foot apartment, Silas held me close, his voice heavy with emotion as he promised, “Charlotte, once I make a name for myself, I swear I’ll give you the wedding of a lifetime. I’ll make everyone jealous and ensure you’re the happiest woman alive.”

Six years into our marriage, Silas had become a household name. We lived in a sprawling villa, and true to his word, he showered me with love and made me the envy of many.

I had believed that happiness would last forever. I never imagined it was all just a fragile illusion—that one of us had already drifted away from the path we once shared.

Once I arrived in Indonesia, I forced myself to stop dwelling on the past and threw myself into the geothermal drill missile research alongside my colleagues.

If our project succeeded, it would strengthen our nation’s security and serve as a formidable deterrent against any potential threats.

While I worked relentlessly, Silas was far from idle.

Rebecca, delicate and pregnant, naturally ceased working altogether. Silas even hired two maids to tend to her every need—one to handle cooking and cleaning, the other to accompany her on shopping trips.

Armed with Silas’s black card, Rebecca strutted into luxury boutiques, a maid trailing behind her, burdened with countless shopping bags.

Her purchases were extravagant: designer handbags and shoes, a diamond-encrusted Cartier bracelet, an emerald feather ring, and South African pink diamond earrings.

In the mere two weeks I had been away, Rebecca had spent a staggering one hundred and eighty thousand dollars.

One late night, a tired Silas returned home to find Rebecca lounging on the sofa, a maid kneeling at her feet, massaging her swollen legs.

But beneath the surface, Silas felt an unfamiliar emptiness and confusion.

In six years of marriage, money had never been a concern. Charlotte had managed everything flawlessly—never extravagant, never blowing through $180,000 in two weeks.

Most of her wardrobe consisted of work uniforms, and the few formal dresses she owned were always carefully washed, ironed, and neatly stored after use.

Rather, she was the one who regularly had custom suits made for Silas, ensuring he looked sharp and confident at every occasion.

Noticing Silas’s distracted expression, Rebecca wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her body close.

“Silas, the doctor said my body has healed. We could…” she murmured, her hand roaming over his chest.

But an involuntary image of Charlotte flashed through Silas’s mind—her large, expressive eyes framed by slightly curled lashes, her cool, pale skin that resembled delicate porcelain even without makeup, and those full, rosy lips that haunted him.

He glanced down at Rebecca, her sallow skin, small eyes, the raised scar on her neck, and the rough texture of her skin against his own.

A sudden wave of revulsion surged through him. Silas pulled Rebecca’s hand away sharply.

“I just remembered—I think I left an instrument running at the institute. I need to go turn it off. You should get some rest,” he said curtly.

Without another word, he pushed her clinging body away and strode out the door, leaving Rebecca behind in stunned silence.