He Thought I Would Cheat, So He Cheated First

Chapter 2

I stared at the mess on the floor, trembling from the chill seeping into my bones.

Over the past three years, it wasn't like I hadn't brought up divorce. But every time the word slipped from my lips, Christian would pin me down with a bone-chilling glare and sneer. "Divorce? Don't even think about it. You owe me. You'll never get a clean break in this lifetime!"

I never understood what exactly I owed him. If he didn't love me, why couldn't he just let me go?

*****

The next morning, I heard Christian was having stomach cramps. Out of habit, I made some chicken soup and brought his medicine to the office.

The door to the CEO's office was slightly ajar. I raised my hand to knock but froze, paralyzed by the scene inside.

My husband, the same man who was ice-cold to me last night, was standing behind his new assistant, Chloe Scott, with his arms loosely wrapped around her. His large hand covered her petite one as he guided the mouse to check a financial report.

Chloe's eyes were red, her voice thick with unshed tears. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Miller. I entered the wrong data and cost the company millions. I..."

"It's fine," Christian said.

Not only did he not lose his temper, but he also chuckled softly.

He casually reached out to ruffle her hair, his tone entirely indulgent. "It's just money. Consider it your tuition fee. I've got your back, so stop beating yourself up over it, okay?"

My blood turned to ice.

He could nonchalantly offer to shoulder a loss of millions. Yet, last night, asking him to eat a dinner I spent two hours cooking was considered "poisoning" him.

This was unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open.

Hearing the noise, the two of them sprang apart. The tenderness on Christian's face vanished instantly. By the time he looked at me, his eyes were frozen over again.

"What are you doing here?" he snapped impatiently.

Forcing down the nausea churning in my stomach, I placed the medicine on his desk and reached for the pitcher to pour him a glass of water.

I explained, "I heard you weren't feeling well."

My hands were shaking so badly that a drop of water splashed out of the glass, landing on the edge of his pristine desk.

That single drop of water was all it took to ignite his rage.

He shot up from his chair and violently swatted the glass away. It shattered across the floor, splashing water all over my ankles.

"Sarah, what good are you besides making a mess?" he roared right in my face, completely humiliating me in front of Chloe. "If you can't even pour a damn glass of water, what else can you do? You might as well drop dead! Take your garbage and get the hell out of my office!"

Chloe stood right behind him, a barely perceptible, triumphant smirk playing on the corner of her lips.

I didn't throw a hysterical fit. I just numbly crouched down, picked up the jagged shards of glass, grabbed his jacket from the sofa that needed dry cleaning, and turned to leave.

It wasn't until I was safely in my car that the searing pain in my fingers registered.

Out of habit, I emptied his jacket pockets before taking it to the cleaners. My fingertips brushed against two folded pieces of paper.

I pulled them out and smoothed them over.

The first item displayed a shopping receipt from a baby shop, which listed a premium twin stroller priced at 3,800 dollars.

The second was a VIP family pass for a theme park this coming weekend.

I stared blankly at the receipts, remembering his sickeningly sweet tone on the phone last night and how he and Chloe acted like a married couple.

It turned out my husband already had another family.