After Our Marriage Went Cold

Chapter 3 The Intruder's Provocation

After I dropped Lily back at the estate with the nanny, Thomas called. His voice was careful.

"Mrs. Sinclair… Mr. Sinclair took the key to that Willowbrook Village duplex you owned before the marriage. He gave it to Scarlett Morgan."

My fingers tightened slightly around the phone.

The Willowbrook Village duplex was my personal property, purchased before our marriage, and it occupied an exceptional location.

How generous of him.

"Understood," I said flatly.

After hanging up, I looked up the rent for comparable Westbrook properties and sent Ronan a screenshot.

If he wanted to install someone in my home, he would have to pay rent.

Ronan didn't reply. Five minutes later, however, my bank account received a transfer for 10 times the listed amount.

In the past, I would have rushed over and torn them both apart. Now, all I saw was an excellent return on my property.

For the next few days, Ronan vanished from my life completely. I enjoyed the peace.

I returned to the music studio I had founded before our marriage. For the past two years, I had poured all my energy into watching Ronan, fending off his mistresses, and driving myself mad trying to save our marriage. I had all but abandoned my career.

Once I stopped obsessing over Ronan, I felt light enough to fly.

Ronan still appeared constantly in the i********: posts of Westbrook's elite.

The night before, he had spent a fortune at a private Silverton casino while Scarlett leaned against him with a dazzling smile. The previous night, he had held her by the waist at a yacht party in Palmshore as fireworks commissioned especially for her burst behind them.

The latest post was a set photo uploaded by a producer.

Ronan had gone to the set of Scarlett's new film himself. He lounged beside the monitors, his gaze fixed on her beneath the lights.

After years apart, his old flame had not only regained his favor but persuaded the heir to a financial empire to visit her set. She certainly knew what she was doing.

The weekend arrived soon enough, bringing Lily's third birthday party.

The Sinclair estate glittered with designer gowns and fine suits. Half of Westbrook's most powerful and famous people were in attendance.

Before dinner, I went to the kitchen myself to check Lily's allergen-free menu one final time.

But when I returned to the ballroom, I saw Madeleine standing off to one side, her face livid.

In the center of the room, several guests had gathered around Lily.

Scarlett Morgan stood there in a white couture gown, reaching for my daughter's cheek.

She had dared to waltz into Lily's birthday party as though she belonged there.