From Mob Princess to Mugshot Photographer novel Chapter 105

**Chapter 2**

That night, I made a pivotal decision: I would not return home. Instead, I found myself lingering at the hospital, surrounded by the antiseptic smell that permeated the air and the soft, rhythmic beeping of machines. This sterile environment offered an unexpected solace, a refuge from the tempest raging within my mind.

Throughout the night, my phone buzzed incessantly. Jake, my boss, inundated me with a relentless stream of texts and calls, each notification lighting up my screen like a garish Christmas tree. I resolutely ignored every single message, the vibrations serving only as reminders of the turmoil I was desperate to escape. Each ping was a tether to the chaos and emotional upheaval I was trying to leave behind.

As dawn broke, I arrived at the office before the sun had fully risen, the quiet halls echoing with the sound of my footsteps. My mission was crystal clear: I was there to type up my resignation letter and finally sever the ties that had bound me to this place, to him.

Jake was not merely any boss; he was the founder and CEO of the company—a man who had clawed his way up from nothing, building his empire brick by brick, working tirelessly out of his garage in those early days. I had been with him from the very start, a loyal designer who had poured her heart and soul into every project. Yet now? Now, I felt like a specter, drifting through the office unnoticed. If I vanished tomorrow, I doubted Jake would even notice my absence.

I was in the midst of printing my resignation letter when Jake appeared behind me, startling me as if he had materialized from thin air.

“Chloe, all done printing?” His voice was soft, almost gentle, but it felt like a weight pressing down on my chest.

“Yep,” I replied, striving to keep my tone as neutral as possible while I grabbed the papers from the printer.

Jake continued to watch me, seemingly oblivious to the chill that had settled between us. He cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Chloe, could you come to my office for a moment?”

As soon as he summoned me, I felt the weight of my coworkers’ gazes upon us, their whispers swirling around like vultures circling their prey.

“Did you hear? Mr. Morrison is married!” one of them exclaimed, barely able to contain their excitement.

“No way! That explains why Chloe and Mr. Morrison kept their thing so hush-hush. She’s totally the other woman,” another chimed in, their voice dripping with glee.

“Chloe’s always going on about how much she hates homewreckers. Talk about a total hypocrite,” a third added, laughter punctuating their words.

The memories of my father leaving my mother for another woman surged back, a painful reminder of the chaos that had ensued in our lives. And now, thanks to Jake, I was being branded a homewrecker too. How ironic was that?

I knew it was Riley on the other end. After all, she was his real wife, the one he had chosen. The realization settled in my chest like a stone. I felt… nothing. Absolutely nothing. I was done caring.

Later, I submitted my resignation, the weight of my decision heavy in the air. When I handed it to the VP, he didn’t even blink, his expression a mask of indifference.

“Chloe, I’m sure Mr. Morrison will take good care of you,” he said, his tone casual, as if he were discussing a routine matter rather than the end of my six-year relationship.

I bit my lip, feeling as though I had stumbled into a twisted alternate reality. Everyone seemed to assume I was just Jake’s kept woman, his little office pet. They couldn’t fathom that I was his girlfriend, someone who had shared years of her life with him, and that I was leaving because he had shattered my heart into a million pieces.

As I made my way toward the exit, I unexpectedly encountered Jake and Riley waiting by the elevators, their presence a stark reminder of the life I was leaving behind.

In that moment, a profound sense of clarity washed over me like a cleansing storm. I had shed the weight of my past, the toxic entanglements that had suffocated my spirit. Each step away from the office was a step toward reclaiming my autonomy, a silent declaration that I would no longer be defined by the shadows of someone else’s choices. The whispers of my colleagues faded into the background, their judgments no longer capable of piercing my newfound resolve. I was no longer the invisible ghost drifting through the halls; I was a woman choosing her own path, even if it meant facing the unknown alone.

As I stepped into the crisp morning air, the world felt different—brighter, more vibrant. I had lost a part of myself in the chaos of love and betrayal, but in that loss, I discovered a resilience I never knew I possessed. The memories of my mother and the painful echoes of my past would always linger, but they would no longer dictate my future. I took a deep breath, embracing the uncertainty ahead, ready to forge a new identity. This was not just the end of a relationship; it was the beginning of a journey toward healing and self-discovery, one that I was determined to navigate on my own terms.