Chapter 159

Vincent dragged himself back to the Jones family estate, every muscle aching with fatigue. All he wanted was a few hours of oblivion, but the instant he sank into bed, his mind ignited with restless turmoil. No matter how he tossed and turned, sleep wouldn't come. By sunrise, he gave up entirely and drove to the office, shadows etched beneath his eyes.

He'd barely stepped into the building before he felt the fallout. News of his marriage-and the recent divorce-from Hannah had exploded overnight,dominating every headline and gossip feed.

Acting on Vincent's instructions, Derek unleashed an aggressive PR offensive, ensuring the story blazed across every major outlet.

Soon, Brinley's social media accounts were inundated with angry messages. Accusations of being a homewrecker flooded in by the minute.

Staring at her phone in disbelief, Brinley watched her name shoot to the top of the trending charts, her pulse spiking as outrage and panic warred inside her.

The idea of Hannah basking in the chaos only made Brinley's blood boil hotter. She snapped her fingers for her PR team and barked out new orders, insisting they bury the story no matter what it took.

All the while, Clive kept spamming Brinley's phone with frantic texts, demanding to know about Hannah's divorce from Vincent. After all, what Brinley had fed him was that Vincent was single, and Hannah was just a desperate woman latching onto Vincent.

Every notification made Brinley's temples throb. If Clive wasn't still marginally useful, she would've chewed him out then and there. Still, she fired off a curt voice message, her irritation unmasked. "How would I know they got married in secret? But why are you panicking? They're divorced now, and I'm the only one fit to be Vincent's wife. Got it?" Clive replied right away, practically groveling."Crystal clear, Miss Gilbert-I've always got your back."

.As the divorce news exploded across the internet,gossip spread through every corner of the Jones Group.

For the first time, Vincent had truly overheard the way his employees whispered about Hannah. No matter how quietly they tried to lower their voices-or how abruptly they fell silent when he walked by-he still picked up enough snatches to know she was at the center of it all. If he'd ever bothered to pay attention before, he might have realized just how vicious their comments had always been. But in five years, he'd never cared enough to listen.

When he finally reached his office,he tried drowning himself in paperwork, hoping to numb the chaos in his mind. After three fruitless hours, he was still staring blankly at the same page. The cutting-edge efficiency that once defined him had completely deserted him.

Restless, he kept searching for some scrap of evidence-some half-forgotten moment-that would prove Hannah had been happy with him, even once,during their marriage.

Suddenly, he remembered his private social account.He'd created the account solely for Hannah, back when she accused him of never giving her enough attention. But as the months wore on and work buried him, her mentions faded away, and so did his attention.

Now, though, maybe that her page still held a trace of the happiness he'd missed. Maybe, tucked somewhere in those snapshots, he could finally find what he'd failed to see.

He stared at the login screen, frustration building with every failed attempt-until, finally, he stumbled on the right password.

Inside, he went straight to the lone name on his following list: Hannah.

The moment her profile loaded, a sharp ache twisted through his chest.

There were only three posts.

The latest was a stark black-and-white shot of the sky, uploaded two years ago. Her caption tugged at him: "It was thanks to a good friend that I made it out. I want to believe I'm fine now, but am l?"

The second post hit him like a punch to the chest.Unlike the others, it burst with color-a vivid, jarring shot of her palm smeared with blood, fist clenched around glittering shards of glass. The caption beneath it read, "I could feel the glass slicing my skin, but oddly enough, there was no pain."

Vincent's breath snagged in his throat. His fingers shook as he stared at the screen. While Hannah had been suffering from depression, even hurting herself,what had he been doing?

He glanced at the date on the post, but his mind came up empty-he couldn't even remember where he'd been, what had seemed so important at the time.

The oldest post dated back four years: a grainy black-and-white selfie, her features eerily calm. The caption was like a splash of cold water. "This could pass for a halfway decent funeral photo."

If he hadn't happened across these hidden pieces of her pain, Vincent might never have known-Hannah had been fighting depression alone for two years.

He hovered on her page, drawn in by the emptiness of those three lonely posts. After a long moment, he switched over to see who she followed.

Rena's profile popped up first. He tapped in, scrolling through a flood of selfies and daily updates-nothing about Hannah, not a single mention. He exited without a second thought, only to spot another name that jumped out at him-Felix Wade.

Vincent clicked through. The latest post was a single,unmistakable photo: two airplane seats side by side. He recognized Hannah immediately, even with only her profile visible beside Felix.

The caption stopped him cold. "Just the two of us.This trip's going to be perfect."

A shadow passed over Vincent's face. His jaw tightened as a wave of jealousy churned in his chest.