Chapter 2
"Mr. Grant, huh?" I turned to Andrew, my voice steady but clear enough for everyone around to catch every word.
"Andrew, this lady claims you belong to her. So, care to explain who was in my bed last night?" My voice was calm.
But the noise around us immediately faded.
The people nearby started sizing us up, their eyes flicking back and forth between the three of us.
The atmosphere all of a sudden felt charged and uncomfortable.
Andrew looked worse than just upset.
It was ghostly pale.
The glass in his hand fell to the floor with a loud crash, shattering into pieces.
Champagne splashed onto his pants and Sophie's red dress.
"Ah!" Sophie shrieked.
She stumbled back, glaring at the stain on her dress with disgust.
But Andrew seemed not to notice.
He grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight it felt like he was trying to crush my bones.
He lowered his voice, practically growling the words through clenched teeth. "Come with me."
With that, he dragged me toward the side door of the banquet hall.
I didn't even try to resist.
I let him drag me into a deserted corridor.
He slammed me against the wall, his eyes bloodshot.
"Julia. What the hell are you trying to do?" he yelled.
It was the first time he'd ever shouted my full name, Julia Evans.
For three years of marriage, he'd always called me "Julia" in that gentle, loving way.
I looked at him with steady eyes.
I looked at the man I'd spent seven years loving and three years married to.
His face was full of anger, completely out of control.
"What am I trying to do? Andrew, shouldn't I be asking you that?" I said.
I raised my free hand and brushed aside the messy hair on his forehead. "Who is that woman on stage? Your wife?"
"I..." Andrew faltered.
He was tongue-tied, his gaze flickering away.
"Julia, please, let me explain. It's not what it looks like," he pleaded.
Here we go again.
The classic line guys use when they've screwed up.
"I don't want to hear it," I shut him down. "I only believe what I see. You stood up in front of everyone and called her your wife."
My voice was completely deadpan, like I was reciting something that didn't concern me.
And the calmer I was, the more it rattled Andrew.
"It was all just for show. It was for the project. Mr. Blake made me say it," he said desperately.
He rushed to shift the blame onto his boss, scrambling for an excuse. "You know how much this project means to me. If I can pull it off, I can finally..."
"So you can give me a better life, right?" I cut him off.
I finished his sentence for him. "Andrew, you've been saying that since we first started dating.
"You busted your ass working overtime, chasing promotions for me.
"You bought us an apartment in this city, even if it was only the down payment.
"You made me quit my job so I could just stay home and play the perfect housewife."
With every word I said, his face grew paler.
"So now you've got yourself another 'wife' out there, also for me, right?" My voice stayed calm and steady. "Do you really expect me to believe that?"
He stared at me, lips moving, but not a single word came out.
From the banquet hall at the end of the corridor, another round of cheers and applause erupted.
So lively.
So piercing.
"Julia," he said.
He suddenly let go of my hand and stepped back.
It was like all the fight had gone out of him in an instant.
"What do you want from me?" he asked.
He sounded exhausted. "Is this really worth throwing away everything we've built, just because of this?"
"Just this?" I let out a bitter laugh.
I couldn't help but laugh. "Andrew, so in your eyes, betraying your marriage is just 'a little thing'?"
He fell silent.
He stared at me, his eyes full of mixed emotions.
I knew exactly what he was thinking.
He was thinking, 'Julia never used to be like this.'
The old Julia was gentle, considerate, and always put him first.
Even if she was upset, a couple sweet words and a designer purse would make everything right again.
But he never realized that hearts could grow cold.
Once I had had enough disappointment, all that was left was to leave.
"I'm not here to ask for anything," I said.
I smoothed out my borrowed waiter's uniform, trying to look composed. "I'm just here to tell you one thing."
He shot me a guarded look, eyes full of suspicion. "What is it?"
"Let's talk about getting divorced," I said.
He looked at me like I'd just said something completely ridiculous. "Divorce? Julia, are you out of your mind?
"How are you going to divorce me? You don't have a job, no income, and I paid for your mom's surgery, remember?"
He finally played his trump card.
He thought this was the ace up his sleeve, the thing he could use to keep me under his thumb forever.
He really believed I couldn't survive without him.
I looked at him, and suddenly, I felt a little sorry for him, and for myself, too.
"Don't worry," I said, making sure every word was clear and firm. "I'll pay you back every single cent for my mom's surgery.
"And as for this apartment, my family contributed $60,000 when we bought it. I want half of it in the divorce."
Andrew was stunned.
He clearly hadn't expected me to be so clear-cut about the numbers.
He thought I'd be crying, making a scene, begging him not to leave.
"You..." he stammered.
"And another thing," I cut him off, not letting him get a single word in. "You cheated on me while we were married, so you're the one at fault. According to the law, I can go after you for emotional damages.
"You and your so-called 'wife,' expect a letter from my attorney."
With that, I turned and walked away, not looking back once.
Andrew's furious shout echoed after me. "Julia. How dare you."