Chapter 2

The screen lit up again less than five minutes after the call ended.

Marcus's voice came through the receiver, tinged with barely concealed surprise: "Mr. Damian, there's no need to draft it."

"What do you mean?" I pulled the IV out of the back of my hand and pressed on the bleeding puncture site.

“Mrs. Victoria… had drafted the divorce agreement a year ago.” Marcus’s tone became dry. “She even signed it, waiting for you to give up and put it on.”

I see.

To her, this marriage was nothing more than a garbage contract that could be thrown into the shredder at any time.

“Great, send me the electronic version, I’ll sign it now.” I didn’t hesitate at all, and my tone was so calm that even I was surprised.

Marcus on the other end of the phone was clearly stunned, and it took him a long time to utter a single "okay".

After signing the electronic document, I casually ripped off my hospital gown and put on an old jacket from the closet.

I pushed open the hospital room door; the corridor was deserted. They were probably still enacting their comfy family drama in Sebastian's room. I didn't want to smell that disgusting warmth for even a second longer.

Stepping out of the hospital building, a cold wind rushed into my collar. I dialed the number of my driver, Frank.

"Come pick me up. To the Exit-Entry Administration Bureau."

Twenty minutes later, Frank parked the car on the side of the road. He didn't even get out of the car, but just glanced at me contemptuously in the rearview mirror: "Young master, Madam instructed that you are not allowed to run around causing trouble again."

“Drive.” I leaned back in my seat, not even lifting my eyelids. “Or I can call Victoria right now and tell her you’ve delayed my divorce proceedings.”

Frank's expression changed instantly. He dared not utter another word and slammed on the gas pedal.

The lobby of the Exit-Entry Administration Bureau was bustling with noise.

I pushed the completed form into the window: "How long will it take to relocate overseas to Spain?"

"Expedited processing, five working days." The clerk stamped the seal without looking up.

Five working days. Enough time for me to completely peel off that disgusting veneer of "Young Master Foster".

I stuffed the receipt into my pocket and had Frank take me straight back to Foster's hillside villa.

Pushing open the door to what was supposedly "my" bedroom, a musty smell, as if it had never seen sunlight for years, hit me. The room was huge, yet I had hardly anything to take with me.

A few faded clothes and an old laptop. That's all the young master owns in this house.

I took out my phone and opened the notes app .

In the blinding white light, lines of shocking text, seemingly carrying the scent of blood, crashed into my vision.

"This is the first time I've been publicly humiliated by her. She said I'm not even as good as the lowest-ranking butler in the Foster family, at least a butler knows what shame is."

"The thirty-seventh time, I swallowed pills and had my stomach pumped. When I woke up, all I could hear was the cold sound of medical equipment beside my bed. She didn't come."

"For the fifty-ninth time, my parents stood by my bedside and warned me: If you threaten Sebastian with death again, we will kick you out of the Foster family."

"For the seventy-third time, Victoria stepped on the back of my hand and told me that my tears were cheaper than the tap water in the sewer."

As I read these words, so humble and painful they were suffocating, my stomach churned violently.

What was Damian living for? Was it to be trampled on relentlessly by these scumbags?

I sneered, quickly swiped my finger across the screen, took screenshots of all the memos, packaged them, and uploaded them to the encrypted cloud.

Then, I pressed "Restore factory settings".

The progress bar moved forward rapidly, and those humiliating past events were gradually and permanently erased.

The silence in the room was shattered by the jarring sound of a text message notification as soon as the screen lit up again.

From: Mother Eleanor.

Opening the text message, there wasn't a single word of greeting to her newly awakened son, only a cold, commanding tone.

"You must attend Sebastian's vice president promotion banquet the day after tomorrow night."

"Hilton Hotel Ballroom. Dress appropriately, and don't embarrass the Foster family again."

Looking at the words "disgraceful" on the screen, I could even imagine the look of extreme disgust on her face as she typed them. Her biological son had just had his blood drawn at the hospital, yet all she cared about was whether her adopted son's promotion banquet would be ruined.

I gripped the phone, my knuckles turning slightly white, before slowly releasing it.

I typed a single word on the keyboard.

"good."

The day after tomorrow evening, Hilton Ballroom.

That will be the last time I appear as a "Foster family member" before I disappear from their world.