Betrayed Wife, Powerful Heiress

Chapter 6: He Was Your Husband

Chapter 6: He Was Your Husband

(Caroline's POV)

Kieran turned on his heel, ready to storm out.

"Wait," I said.

Kieran stopped. He didn't turn around immediately. His knuckles were white against the metal hardware.

"You said Dominic almost died," I said, standing up. "Because of me? What are you talking about?"

He slowly rotated his body. His face was twisted in a sneer, a look of pure, unadulterated condescension.

"You really don't know, do you?" he asked. He let out a short, harsh laugh that lacked any humor. "God, you are oblivious."

"Tell me," I demanded, my patience fraying. "When was he in danger?"

"He was your husband!" He shouted. "Figure it out yourself!"

He ripped the door open and stormed out. I stood my ground, watching his dramatic exit with a scoff.

"Exactly, Kieran!" I yelled at his retreating back before the door slammed shut. "Keyword: *Was*! Past tense!"

I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest. If he expected me to crumble at the mention of my ex-husband, he was sorely mistaken. I wasn't heartbroken; I was just annoyed. He dropped a bomb and ran away like a coward. Typical.

Dominic almost died? When? How?

I searched my memories, replaying the last two years. There was nothing. No hospitals. No injuries. No late-night calls from doctors.

Dominic was a fortress. He was cold stone and reinforced steel.

He came home late, smelling of expensive scotch and indifference. He left before I woke up. Our conversations were purely transactional.

"Dinner is on the table," I would say.

"I ate," he would reply, not even glancing at me.

That was our marriage.

I looked back at that version of myself—cooking roast chicken, waiting in silk dresses until the candles burned out—and I didn't feel sad. I felt stupid.

It wasn't tragic; it was pathetic. And I was done being pathetic.

I had spent two years trying to spark a conversation with a brick wall. I thought he was "mysterious" or "damaged." I thought if I loved him enough, I could fix him.

What a joke. He wasn't deep. He was just an emotionally unavailable jerk.

He didn't share his life with me? Fine. If he had a near-death experience, he hoarded it like a miser. The realization didn't make me feel suffocated anymore. It hardened me. I wasn't furniture. I wasn't a ghost. I was simply a woman who had wasted too much time on a man who didn't deserve a second thought.

"Carrie?"

The voice was soft, breaking my trance.

I looked up. Sebastian was standing by the side of the desk. He looked worried, his hazel eyes scanning my face.

"You okay?" he asked.

He was always the one who noticed. Since we were kids playing in the Hamptons, he knew when I was about to cry before I did. But I wasn't crying today.

Ethan stepped forward before I could answer. He looked uncomfortable with the tension in the room, clutching his portfolio tighter.

"Ms. Lowells," Ethan said, clearing his throat. "Regarding the Sterling contract. We need to initiate the RFP process. The legal team needs the green light to draft the public tender documents."

I took a deep breath, pushing the annoyance down. I had a job to do.

"Do it," I said firmly. "Start the bidding."

"Good," Sebastian said, nodding. He crossed his arms over his chest. "We don't need to carry the Sterlings anymore. They can swim on their own."

I looked at Sebastian. The question was still lingering, annoying me like a loose thread.

"Seb," I said. "Did Dominic really almost die because of me?"

Sebastian didn't hesitate.

"Of course!" he said instantly.

"He did?"

"Look at you," Sebastian said, gesturing vaguely. "Look at this mess. Divorce kills people, Carrie. Not literally, maybe. But inside? Yeah. It tears you apart."

I let out a dry, humorless laugh.

"Hurt? Oh, Seb, don't be naive," I said, shaking my head. "Dominic doesn't get *hurt*. He gets *inconvenienced*."

Please. The only thing Dominic cared about losing was a business asset, not a wife. The man had a calculator where his heart should be.

I looked down at my manicured hands. I wasn't going to waste another ounce of pity on Dominic. He had Faye. He had his baby. He was liberated.

And frankly? So was I.

(Author's POV)

Kieran burst out of the revolving doors and onto the busy sidewalk.He stopped, ignoring the pedestrians rushing past him.

"Dammit!" he hissed.

He ran a hand through his sandy blonde hair, messing up the perfect style.

*Why did I say that?* he thought. Stupid.

He had just blown the exclusive renewal. The board of directors was going to eat him alive. He had let his temper cost him a multi-million dollar contract.

He looked up and saw Ethan Wright exiting the building a few yards away. Ethan looked calm, professional, adjusting his glasses.

Kieran quickly dropped his hand. He straightened his cuffs and smoothed his suit jacket. He shot Ethan a glare that could melt glass, then turned and marched to his sports car.

Ethan watched him go, a small, satisfied smirk playing on his lips. He pulled out his phone and dialed.

"Mr. Lowells," Ethan said into the receiver. "It went exactly as you predicted."

Miles away, in the garden of the Lowells estate in the Hamptons, Richard Lowells sat on the terrace. The ocean breeze ruffled his white linen shirt.

He listened to Ethan's report and threw his head back. A booming laugh erupted from his chest.

"That's my girl," Richard said. "She didn't give an inch?"

"Not an inch, sir," Ethan said. "Public tender. Open bidding."

"Excellent," Richard said. "We played nice for too long. The Ashfords need to learn their place."

Grace looked up from her rose bushes nearby. She held a pair of gardening shears, a straw hat protecting her from the sun.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Caroline cut Kieran off," Richard said, hanging up the phone. "She's treating it like a real business now. No more favors."

Grace smiled. It was a proud smile, "She's strong," Grace said softly. "But she's hurting, Richard. I can feel it."

She took off her gardening gloves and placed them on the patio table.

"I'm going to the kitchen," Grace said. "I'll tell the chef to make Beef Bourguignon tonight. And that chocolate soufflé she likes. She needs comfort food when she comes home."

Richard looked out at the blue horizon, swirling the ice in his lemonade.

"I know, Grace," he said. "But I can't protect her from this. She has to walk through the fire. Running the company... it's a distraction. It will keep her busy."

Back in the city, the door to Dominic's office flew open.

Kieran stormed in. He didn't say hello. He went straight to the crystal decanter on the side table.

Clink. Splash. Glug.

He poured a generous amount of amber whiskey into a glass. He didn't bother with ice.

"Your ex-wife," Kieran announced, taking a large gulp that made him wince, "is absolutely impossible."

Dominic sat behind his massive ebony desk. The room was dim, the blinds drawn against the afternoon sun. He was reading a report, his face a mask of indifference.

"What did she do?" Dominic asked without looking up.

"She kicked me out," Kieran said. He turned, leaning against the cabinet. "She refused to sign. She wants an RFP. A public tender, Dominic! She's making me bid against every other supplier in the city."

Dominic paused and slowly looked up. "She wants a public tender?" He repeated.

"Yes!" Kieran shouted. "She's completely cold. No loyalty. No memory of the past."

Kieran narrowed his eyes at his friend, his frustration boiling over.

"And this is your fault," Kieran snapped. "If you hadn't divorced her, I would have that contract signed right now. You made this mess, Dominic. You and your obsession with that divorce."