Chapter 4

Carter turned his head at the sound.

When our eyes met, a flash of pure mockery crossed his face. He caught the girl’s chin in his fingers and pulled her down into a deep, filthy kiss.

The massive lounge went dead quiet, save for the wet sounds of their mouths moving together.

I casually closed the heavy door behind me, walked over, and took a seat on an empty armchair.

I waited patiently until Carter finally broke the kiss before speaking in an even tone.

"We need to talk."

Carter’s brow furrowed slightly. His lips were still slick and bruised from the kiss.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Having another episode?" he asked casually.

The temperature in the room plummeted through the floor.

Three years of marriage, and I had caught him cheating countless times. But I’d only made a scene during the very first year.

Back then, I’d smashed heirlooms and screamed my lungs out, demanding to know how he could turn into such a monster.

Carter had simply stood among the shards of broken glass, staring down at me with cold, dead eyes.

He’d asked with sneering contempt:

"Chloe, what kind of sick fit are you throwing now?"

From that point on, Carter stopped hiding it entirely.

He set Alyssa up in a luxury penthouse owned by his family, moving in with her openly.

The entire social circle buzzed with rumors that Carter had finally fallen for real.

I hired someone to check on the apartment. The private investigator brought back a stack of photos showing Carter helping Alyssa water plants on the balcony.

He was wearing relaxed loungewear, his messy hair falling over his forehead, making him look like a carefree boy again.

Alyssa wore a matching set. Smiling warmly, she set down the watering can and reached up to smooth his stray curls.

With her bare face and dark hair, she looked clean and radiant. When her eyes crinkled in laughter, a tiny mole beneath her lower eyelid peeked out, charming and playful.

Carter looked at her with such quiet gentleness, bending down slightly to let her fuss with his hair.

They looked gorgeous together. Perfectly matched. Like two soulmates.

I had sat on the terrace that night, holding that thick stack of glossy photos, staring at them in silence for hours.

Eventually, I threw every single picture into the gas burner. I never threw another tantrum again. At most, whenever I felt petty, I leaked a tip to the tabloids just to make his life a little harder.

Tonight felt like a carbon copy of that past, but I didn't have the energy left to fight him.

Lowering my eyes, I pulled the divorce papers from my purse and laid them flat on the table in front of him.

"I'm here to sign the divorce."