Chapter 3
Late that night, I heard the keypad beep at the front door.
Charles was back.
I sat in the dark living room, lights off, frozen like a statue—empty, numb, barely alive.
He walked in reeking of alcohol and cold air, acting like nothing was wrong.
Just like always, he peeled off his coat, tossed it carelessly on the couch, and headed straight toward me.
"Why are the lights off?" he asked.
He sounded tired, but that controlling edge was as sharp as ever.
He leaned in to pull me into his arms, like he always did—expecting to drain some comfort from me.
I stiffened and jerked back at the last second, dodging his touch like it burned.
His arm hung awkwardly in the air. The living room filled with suffocating silence.
He finally noticed something was off.
He frowned and flipped on the lights.
Harsh light flooded the room, illuminating my pale face and everything spread out on the coffee table.
The marriage alliance agreement. The marriage license. And the card that said, "For my wife, Claire."
Charles glanced at the coffee table and froze.
But only for a moment.
There was no panic or guilt on his handsome face—just the irritation of someone whose plans had hit a snag.
He quickly composed himself, his tone completely flat.
"You went into my study?" he asked, like he was talking about the weather.
I stared at him. His casual attitude pierced me like a knife.
I grabbed the marriage license and shoved it in his face, my voice raw and unrecognizable.
"Charles, look at this. Whose name is on it? Evelyn Summers—your wife, your legal wife."
My voice shook with anger and grief I couldn't hide.
"So what the hell is Claire supposed to be?"
His gaze held no love, no tenderness—only a superior, impatient scrutiny.
He made his unhurried way to the couch, sat, undid his tie, and slumped back into its depths.
His voice was disappointingly calm as he said, "I always thought you were understanding, Emily.
"Claire and I—it's an arranged union, a business alliance. This is about the future of Rivers Group. And you..."
He paused, as if choosing the perfect word.
"You're just the comfort I turn to when I'm tired."
"Comfort?"
I laughed through my tears, shaking uncontrollably.
"So what was I to you these past three years? Just a tool to help you unwind? A disposable stand-in you kept in the shadows?"
He pulled a black card from his wallet and flicked it onto the table with a soft but piercing clink.
"There's 20 million on that. More than enough for you to live comfortably for the rest of your life."
He looked at me with cold contempt, like he was discarding a pet that had outlived its usefulness.
"We'll get the divorce tomorrow. Take the money, leave, and don't ever show up in front of me Claire or again."
Twenty million dollars.
He thought 20 million was enough to buy off three years of my life, my love, and every shred of my dignity.
I stared at that black card, the irony hitting me like a punch to the gut.
I snatched it up and hurled it straight at his face.
"Charles!" I screamed, my voice so sharp it almost cracked.
"Twenty million for three years? Do you think you're just paying off a pet?"
The hard edge of the card sliced across his cheek, leaving a thin red line.
His handsome face instantly darkened, his eyes stormy with rage.
I'd never seen him this angry before.
But I just laughed through my tears, the pain spilling out with every shaky breath.
"I was with you because I loved you! Not because of your money!
"You think everyone sees things like you do? That love and marriage are just things to buy and sell, assets to trade?"
My words seemed to push him over the edge.
He shot to his feet and grabbed my chin in a grip so tight I thought my bones might snap.
He loomed over me, his eyes icy and merciless, full of warning and chilling intent.
"Evelyn, don't push your luck."
His voice was like poison.
"Without me, you're nothing. Piss me off, and you won't get a dime."
Pain shot through my jaw, but I didn't flinch.
I stared right back into his cold eyes, enunciating every word.
"Fine. See you in court.
"I'll make sure everyone in this city knows how you, CEO of Rivers Group, lied to me, turned our marriage into a joke, and even..."
I paused, then aimed for the jugular.
"Committed bigamy."
His expression finally cracked.
Panic flashed across his usually unshakable face—for the first time ever.
His grip on my chin loosened instantly.
The fury in his eyes was almost savage, like he was ready to tear me apart right there.
We faced off, eyes locked. In that instant, I knew—with every ounce of fake tenderness stripped away—all that was left between us was raw hatred and open war.
Love was dead. War had just begun.