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Our Separated Ways Novel Cover

Our Separated Ways

Bianca spent six years building Midas Capital from the ground up alongside Lars Carter, the ruthless head of the firm with secret mafia ties to the Viktor clan. While she managed the accounts and high-stakes negotiations, she believed they were a team. However, the arrival of Lars's childhood sweetheart, Pearl Ross, shatters that illusion. When Lars rejects her marriage proposal citing business pressures, Bianca decides to move on and marry someone else instead.
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Chapter 3

Right before stepping into Lars's office, I hesitated for a moment.

It wasn't indecision. I was simply figuring out the most direct and effective way to get his signature.

As the top player in Eastwind City's finance world, Midas Capital had attracted a lot of funds from the old money in recent years. Even if I were a co-founder, I had to do this by the book. To avoid future complications, the resignation process had to be clean.

I pushed the door open—before I could even say what I was rehearsing in my mind, I saw Pearl sitting across from him.

Now, I understand why her desk was empty today. She was already by his side.

"Lars…" Her voice was sugary sweet as she gently patted his shoulder. "You're distracted again!"

Lars looked at her with a kind of affection I had never seen before. "Alright, stop messing around. I still have a contract to handle."

"I'm not messing around…" she said.

Pearl shot me a challenging look, not even trying to hide it.

"Oh!" She smiled sweetly. "Bianca's here."

Lars froze; he quickly leaned back, instinctively putting some space between them.

I suppressed my anger. "Lars, I have some paperwork for you to sign."

I handed him the documents and the folder.

Seeing that I wasn't mentioning anything about him and Pearl, he visibly relaxed and nodded. "Alright."

"I shouldn't disturb you two from working. I should leave for now," Pearl said. She stood up and left, deliberately brushing past me. Her perfume was making my nose itch.

Lars opened the file, and I was about to explain my reasons—until a sudden shriek sounded behind me.

"Ah! That hurts!"

I turned around, only to see Pearl buckling as one of her heels skidded and she stumbled to the floor.

"Pearl!" Lars immediately jumped to help her, but I raised my hand and stopped him.

"Sign it," I said coolly. "It won't take more than a few seconds."

He frowned. "When did you become so vicious and heartless? Is this paperwork really that important?"

Before I could answer, I heard Pearl sobbing behind me.

"It hurts… I think I twisted my ankle…"

Lars couldn't focus at all, desperate to get past me. However, I just glared at him silently. In the end, he impatiently grabbed the pen and signed where I pointed, not even skimming the details.

Good. That was exactly what I wanted.

I just wanted to leave this city where he existed neatly.

Lars picked Pearl up and gently set her on the sofa, carefully holding her ankle and comforting her, "It's not swollen, but I'll take you to the hospital just in case."

"It's really not that serious…" Pearl murmured. While doing so, she shot me a triumphant look.

I simply walked out.

I had just reached the parking garage when someone stopped me.

Lars was running toward me, out of breath. "Bianca, wait!"

When I looked back, he used this chance to block my car door. His eyes were full of urgency. "Don't get the wrong idea. About us… There's really nothing between me and her. We just grew up together… I can't just ignore her."

"Sure," I said with a nod, my gaze dropping to his hand on the car door. He instinctively let go.

He was surprised. "You're not mad?"

I glanced at him. "Should I be?"

"I…" He hesitated before taking my hand. "I've got an event tonight, but I'll come home."

"Alright."

By now, him coming home felt like charity.

That night, I grabbed a quick bite outside, then returned home and kept packing. I was about to rest when my phone on the table buzzed.

It was a Facebook message from Pearl.

[See, Bianca? Lars still remembers my favorite pink roses! He's even more attentive than before. Thanks for training him so well.]

She even attached a photo—it was the custom Porsche I had picked out with Lars, its trunk stuffed full of pink roses and strung with sparkling lights.

At that moment, I understood everything clearly.

All the genuine love Lars had given me over the years had always belonged to someone else.

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