Betrayed Wife, Powerful Heiress

Chapter 1: Divorced (Caroline's POV) Tick. Tock. The grandfather clock in the living room ticked. My makeup was flawless, and I sat stiffly in the corner of the beige sofa, legs crossed, a glass of deep red wine on the armrest. I hadn't taken a sip in hours, letting it breathe, perhaps already flat, but I refused to move. Mrs. Henderson walked over from the kitchen. She held a tray with a cup of hot chamomile tea and a soft wool blanket. Her eyes were full of pity as she looked at me. "Madam," she said softly. "Please don't wait anymore. The tea will warm you, but you need sleep. Go upstairs and rest." I didn't reach for the tea. I swirled the wine glass gently, watching the liquid coat the crystal. "Go to bed, Mrs. Henderson. I'm not waiting for a husband; I'm waiting for an explanation. And I won't sleep until I get it." Suddenly, the roar of an engine cut through the silence outside. Tires crunched on the gravel driveway. Then, the heavy oak door pushed open with a thud. "Mr. Ashford is back!" Mrs. Henderson cried out, her voice trembling with excitement. I didn't jump up. I didn't rush to the door. I stayed seated, lifting my eyes slowly to face him. Dominic strode into the living room. He wore a hand-tailored Italian suit that fit his broad shoulders perfectly. His face was cold, his jawline sharp as marble. I glanced at the Cartier watch on my wrist, then met his gaze with a cool, detached stare. "You're late, Dominic," I said, my voice steady. "But then again, punctuality was never your strong suit when it came to us." He paused, a flicker of surprise crossing his face at my tone, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. Because a second later, another figure stepped out from behind his tall frame. A petite woman walked in. I recognized her immediately. Faye Carter. Dominic's college sweetheart, the one who got away. Dominic's hand was gripping hers tightly. He held her as if she were a fragile, priceless gem. I stared at their joined hands. A sharp pang hit my chest, but I forced it down, replacing the pain with a scoff of disbelief. I stood up slowly, smoothing the silk of my robe. "Wow," I said, letting a dry laugh escape my lips. "I expected you to be heartless, Dominic, but I didn't think you were cliché enough to bring your mistress to our anniversary. That's a new low, even for you." Before I could say more, Dominic looked at the housekeeper. His voice was ice. "Leave us." Mrs. Henderson looked at me with worry. She hesitated, then lowered her head and retreated to the kitchen. The air in the room became heavy. Faye broke the silence first. She shook Dominic's arm gently. Her voice was soft, like a frightened deer. "Dominic, maybe I should go? I shouldn't have come here." Dominic looked down at her. The coldness in his eyes melted instantly. "You aren't the one who needs to leave." He turned to look at me. His eyes froze over again. He looked at me like I was a stranger. "You can move out, Caroline," he said. His tone was crisp. No hesitation. I didn't ask why. I didn't beg. I just looked at him, realizing how much time I had wasted. I didn't fail to melt him; I was just an i***t for trying to warm up a stone. "Fine," I said simply."And then?" Faye spoke again. Her voice carried a fake weakness and apology. "Caroline, don't blame Dominic. I'm pregnant with his child. He was worried about me taking care of myself alone, so..." She touched her flat stomach. The gesture was a parade of victory. My mind went blank for a split second. A child? I felt the weight of the secret I was carrying. Two months. I was pregnant too. I had waited in this room to tell him, to see if a child could bridge the gap between us. But as I looked at Faye's smug face and Dominic's protective stance, a wave of cold clarity washed over me. Thank God I didn't say anything. My hand instinctively hovered near my stomach, not to show off, but to shield. My child will not be raised in a war zone, fighting for scraps of affection against his mistress's brat. You just lost the right to be a father, Dominic. "Refusing to go?" Dominic interrupted my thoughts ruthlessly. "Or do you want to stay and work as a maid?" My eyes snapped back to his. The audacity. "A maid?" I stepped closer to him, my chin held high. "A maid gets paid, Dominic. I did this for free. That makes me a volunteer for a charity case called 'Dominic Ashford'." Faye pulled at him, squeezing out tears. "Dominic, don't talk like that. I should be the one to go." Dominic hugged her immediately. "Stop talking nonsense. She is just a substitute. You are my wife. I will give you the title you deserve." He turned away from me. He pulled a document from his briefcase and threw it onto the coffee table. "Sign it. Be gone before dawn." I looked down at the documents. Divorce papers. Without hesitation, I grabbed a pen, flipped to the last page, and scrawled my name on the line. I picked up the document and slapped it hard against Dominic's chest. "Here," I said, "I'm granting you the divorce. Not the other way around. Now get out of my way." Dominic sneered, grabbing the papers. "Finally showing your true face. Look how rude you are. I hope you keep your word." He wrapped his arm around Faye and walked out the door again. I heard the engine of his car roar to life and fade into the distance. The room was quiet. My hand trembled slightly at my side, the adrenaline fading, leaving a hollow ache behind. Mrs. Henderson ran in, eyes red. "Madam..." I took a deep breath and turned to her. I wiped a single stray tear from my cheek before it could fall. "Don't look at me like that, Mrs. Henderson," I said, my voice firm. "I'm not broken, I'm just... done." I walked toward the stairs. "Help me pack. I want to be gone before the scent of her cheap perfume settles in the furniture." "I'll call the Lowells," she whispered. I didn't cry while I packed. I moved with precision, taking only what was truly mine. When I finally walked out of the heavy front door, I carried a simple suitcase. A fine, misty rain was falling. I didn't turn back to look at the luxury villa where I had wasted three years of my life. A black Rolls Royce Phantom slid silently to the curb. A driver in a uniform stepped out. He opened the rear door and held a black umbrella over my head. "Miss Caroline," he said with deep respect. "The Master sent me to bring you home."