His Cruelty, My Despair

The heavy oak door of my penthouse swung open, and I looked up, my heart hoping Ethan was finally home alone.

He wasn' t. Olivia Chen was clinging to his arm, her smile bright, her eyes sweeping over our home with a look of ownership.

"Chloe," he said, his voice flat, "We need to talk."

For a month, he' d been asking for a divorce, claiming our life was monotonous. He meant someone new.

"I' m not signing the papers," I told him, the words tasting like ash.

Olivia' s sugary sweet voice cut in, "Ethan, darling, maybe she just needs more time to understand."