Chapter 203

Chapter 203

Marlowe had nothing to say.

Because every word Gloria said was true.

She had walked herself into this situation, one step at a time. She had no one to blame but herself.

By the time Gloria left the estate, the rain had stopped.

She stood at the door, drew a long breath, and slowly let it out.

Her phone buzzed.

A message from Leopold: [Did you handle things with Marlowe?]

Gloria replied: [Yes. She leaves the day after tomorrow.]

She was about to put her phone away when she heard footsteps behind her.

Henry had followed her out of the estate. He stopped a few steps back and didn't come any closer.

"Gloria."

She stopped but didn't turn around.

"Did you set all this up?"

His voice was hoarse, carrying something hard to name — like he was both asking and already knew the answer.

Gloria was quiet for a moment, then turned to face him.

Henry stood on the steps, backlit, his expression hard to read. But she could feel his gaze, heavy, pressing down on her.

"You think I set this up?"

His voice dropped. "I just think it's all too convenient. Every single thing happened at exactly the right moment, like someone planned it all out — precise, step by step."

She let out a short laugh. "Henry, you're asking if I set this up? Fine. Let me ask you something. Did I arrange for you to get together with Bianca? Did I make you take money from the company and spend it on her? Did I put your mother together with Lester?"

Henry's face went pale.

"Every one of those things — you all did that yourselves. I didn't force you. I didn't arrange any of it. Did I?"

Henry stood frozen, like the blood in his veins had turned to ice.

"You said you wanted to talk. Good timing. I have something to say to you too."

Gloria looked at him, her face calm and unreadable. Henry felt his spine go rigid.

"I'm not going to comment on what you said. The divorce papers will be sent to you by my assistant tomorrow. Sign them. It's better for both of us."

"What?" Henry blinked, slow to process.

Gloria's lips curved into a cold smile. The chill in her eyes was sharp enough to cut, and the contempt behind it was impossible to hide.

"Or do you want the Tudor Family to go down with you? Henry, you know exactly what I'm talking about."

The color drained from Henry's face. Pieces suddenly clicked together in his mind. He snapped his head up.

Gloria gave him one last cold look. "See you in court tomorrow morning."

Henry stood there, ashen, and watched her walk away.

Around the same time, Ryan — thrilled to see power slipping out of others' hands — was led along by Leopold's people, who kept pouring drinks into him until he was drunk enough to get behind the wheel. He crashed and was rushed to the hospital in critical condition.

Gloria moved quickly. She produced the original investment agreement from the Seymour Group, and combined it with the Tudor Group shares that panicked shareholders had dumped during the market crash — every one of which Leopold had quietly bought up and transferred into Gloria's name.

She became the single largest decision-maker in the Tudor Group. She took it over without hesitation.

The next morning, a late autumn wind swept through the courthouse steps, sending a few dry yellow sycamore leaves skittering across the ground.

Gloria took the stamped divorce certificate from the clerk. Her fingertip traced the gold lettering. Her face was perfectly still.

The certificate felt weightless in her hand, yet it was as if years of crushing pressure had finally lifted from her shoulders.

Henry stood across from her, his face white as paper, gripping his own copy so tightly his knuckles had gone pale.

He stared at her face — still gentle in its features, but completely cold — and felt something lodge in his throat. Everything he might have said collapsed into a single hoarse question: "Gloria, is there really no chance for us?"

Gloria looked at him. There was no hatred in her eyes. No resentment. Just a vast, settled indifference.

"Henry, the moment you chose Bianca, there was no chance left for us."

She paused, her voice even, each word landing like a blade. "What you owe me can't be paid off with an apology. And what you owe the Seymour Family — that's a debt you won't clear in this lifetime."

She didn't look at him again. She turned and walked toward the black Bentley waiting at the curb.

Leopold was already standing by the car. When he saw her coming, he pulled the door open and draped a cashmere wrap over her shoulders.

"It's all over." His voice was low and quiet, steady in a way that settled something inside her.

Gloria got in and looked out the window at Henry, standing there alone on the steps. She closed her eyes.

Yes. It was all over.

The betrayal, the scheming, the humiliation. All those days and nights she had swallowed her pride under the Tudor roof — all of it was now behind her, sealed away with that divorce certificate.

The car pulled away, leaving Henry's figure smaller and smaller in the distance.

Leopold didn't say anything. He simply sat with her in silence. It wasn't until they reached the city center that he spoke, his voice quiet.

"Lester cleaned out every penny Marlowe had and dumped her in the slums of Vesperia. Her passport was already revoked. She's never coming back. Ryan is still in the hospital after the crash — full-body paralysis, only his eyes can move. I've already spoken to the doctors. They'll keep him alive."

Gloria opened her eyes. Her fingertip moved slowly across the cold glass of the window. She said nothing.

This was what they deserved.

Marlowe had helped Brent swallow the Seymour Family's assets and made Gloria's life difficult at every turn. Ending up begging on the street was exactly what she had coming.

Ryan had played all sides, waiting to cash in. Instead he ended up with a fate worse than death. He brought it on himself.

"As for Henry and Bianca," Leopold said, pausing, a quiet edge in his voice.

"After they were forced out of the Tudor Family, they ended up crammed into a ten-square-meter rental. Henry can't bring himself to take a regular job. He just drinks and picks fights, pushing Bianca to go out and earn money. She had no choice — she started working at a bar. Whatever she makes, Henry drinks away. They fight every day, sometimes it gets physical. They resent each other, but neither one can leave."

Gloria made a quiet sound of acknowledgment. She felt nothing beyond that. She had long since stopped wasting hatred on those two.

Three months later. The stock exchange.

The bell rang, and the room burst into applause.

Gloria stood at the bell-ringing platform in a sharp white suit, the mallet in her hand, composed and sure of herself. The spotlight caught her — the clean line of her posture, the steadiness in her eyes.

In the crowd below, Leopold stood at the front, holding a bouquet of white roses, his expression full of warmth and pride.

He watched her up there, radiant, and felt the corner of his mouth lift without meaning to.

He had waited a long time for this day.

When the ceremony ended and Gloria stepped down from the platform, Leopold was already there. He held out the roses.

"Congratulations, Ms. Seymour. Congratulations on finally having a life that belongs to you."

Gloria took the flowers. The faint scent drifted up around her, and a small, quiet smile crossed her face.

"Thank you, Leopold. I wouldn't be here without you."

It was the first time she had smiled at him like that — something real behind it.

Leopold's heart skipped. He looked at her and said, without looking away, "Getting to help you was my honor."

He paused, then added: "Henry still hasn't given up. He's been going around trying to borrow money, talking about starting over — and threatening to get back at you. Right now Bianca is the one keeping them afloat with her bar job, and the two of them are at each other's throats every day."

Gloria lowered her face to the roses and breathed in their scent. Her voice was calm, leaving no room for doubt. "He won't get the chance."

She had already seen to that. No company in Sovereign City would hire Henry. Every door was closed to him. He would spend the rest of his life at the bottom, grinding each other down with Bianca, until there was nothing left.

Some time later, Gloria's water broke without warning. Fortunately, everything was ready, and she was taken to the hospital that same night.

Outside the delivery room of the private hospital.

Gloria was propped up against the pillows, still pale, but her eyes were clear.

Ten minutes ago, the nurse had taken their newborn daughter out for the heel prick screening. Now it was just Gloria and Leopold in the room.

Leopold held a bowl of warm milk, sat carefully on the edge of the bed, blew on a spoonful until it was the right temperature, and held it out to her.

"You just gave birth. You need your strength. Drink some."

His movements were gentle. "The nurse said the baby is perfectly healthy. She's got a strong cry."

Gloria took the spoon and sipped slowly, watching him fuss around her. She couldn't help but smile. "You're more nervous than I am, and I'm the one who just had the baby."

Leopold shook his head with a quiet laugh, tucked the blanket more snugly around her, and looked at the damp strands of hair still clinging to her forehead. His voice went softer.

"By the way — that restaurant you kept talking about while you were pregnant. The owner just got back from abroad yesterday. He's holding the best lakeside private room, by reservation only, three months in advance. Once you're out of here and feeling better, want me to take you?"

Gloria paused mid-sip and looked up at him.

Sunlight came through the glass and fell across the side of his face, wrapping him in something soft and warm.

His eyes were sincere. Hopeful.

She set down the spoon and looked out the window at the sycamore leaves swaying in the breeze. Then she turned back to Leopold, and a small, unhurried smile came to her lips.

"Sure."