DIVORCED BY THE BILLIONAIRE HUSBAND.HE REGRETTED

Chapter 7

For the first time in , Bruce did not go to work.

His assistant called 12 times. His COO called 8 times. He ignored all of them.

He was hiding.

He locked himself in his bedroom — his OLD bedroom, the one next to Fariana’s, not the guest room where he’d been sleeping with Dolly for the past month — and sat on the floor in sweatpants. SWEATPANTS. Bruce Carter hadn’t worn sweatpants since college.

On his bed was his laptop. On his lap was his phone. On his face was pure trauma.

He was googling.

Not stocks. Not mergers. Not “how to close a $50 million deal.”

No.

His search history at 10:47 AM on a Tuesday morning:

`how to deal with a cunning wife`

`how to do makeup without making wife angry`

`my wife is using me as servant psychology`

`how to survive 30 days with a revenge wife`

`wife makeup tutorial for clueless husbands`

`how to tell if your wife still loves you but is pretending to hate you`

He clicked on a YouTube video titled: *“MY CUNNING WIFE MADE ME HER MAKEUP SLAVE FOR 24 HOURS (GONE WRONG) (SHE CRIED)”*

The thumbnail was some guy with lipstick all over his face.

Bruce pressed play and turned the volume low, like he was watching something illegal.

The guy in the video said, “Guys, my wife is SO cunning, she knows exactly how to—”

“Yes,” Bruce whispered to himself, pointing at the screen. “YES. Exactly. Cunning. That’s the word. Fariana is cunning.”

He was so focused he didn’t hear the door creak open.

Fariana was supposed to be at her yoga class. Dolly was supposed to be at the spa. But Fariana had canceled yoga. Because Maria the maid told her, “Madam, Sir didn’t go to work today. He’s in his room since morning. He didn’t even eat.”

So Fariana got curious. Very curious.

She tiptoed to his room. The door was slightly open. She peeked in.

And what she saw made her stop breathing for a second.

The great Bruce Carter. The man who fired a whole department because someone spilled coffee on his report. Sitting on the floor. In grey sweatpants. Hair messy. No tie. Phone in one hand, beauty blender in the other like he was trying to figure out which one was more dangerous.

He was mumbling to the video, “No, no, no, that’s not how you blend— you have to pat, not drag—”

Fariana’s hand flew to her mouth.

Then she saw his phone screen from behind. Big letters:

*HOW TO DEAL WITH A CUNNING WIFE'S MAKEUP AND LIFESTYLE - 10 TIPS FROM A DIVORCE LAWYER*

She lost it.

A laugh. Loud. Unhinged. A laugh she had been holding in for months.

“HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Bruce JUMPED. Like, actually levitated off the floor. Phone flew. Beauty blender flew. Laptop almost fell.

“WHAT THE— FARIANA! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM?!” he shouted, scrambling to hide his phone like a teenager caught watching something.

Fariana was leaning against the doorframe, holding her stomach, laughing so hard tears were coming out.

“Oh my God! Oh my God, Bruce! You— you’re watching ‘How to deal with a cunning wife’?!” She wheezed. “Who is cunning? ME? I’m cunning now?”

“It’s not— it’s research!” Bruce snapped, his ears red as tomatoes. “I was trying to understand your... your lifestyle! You wear like fifty products!”

“My LIFESTYLE? Bruce, I wash my face and put on lipstick! That’s not a lifestyle, that’s hygiene!”

He stood up, trying to regain his CEO dignity while wearing sweatpants with a coffee stain.

“You made me do your makeup yesterday! I had eyeliner on my hands for six hours! My assistant thought I got a tattoo!”

Fariana laughed even harder. She walked into the room, picked up his phone from the floor. The video was still playing.

_“Tip number 3: When your cunning wife asks you to do her makeup, always compliment her even if she looks like a clown—”_

“See!” Bruce pointed. “Even the internet knows you’re—”

“Cunning? Say it again, I love hearing it,” Fariana said, grinning. She sat on his bed, like she used to, legs dangling.

Bruce stared at her. She was laughing, eyes bright, hair messy in a ponytail, no makeup today. This was the Fariana he married. Not the cold, revenge Fariana from yesterday. The real one.

“Why didn’t you go to work?” she asked suddenly, softer.

Bruce hesitated. He sat back down on the floor because standing made him feel too tall and stupid.

“Because...” He rubbed his neck. “Because yesterday... when you yelled that you never cheated... I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”

The laughter died in the room. Just like that.

Fariana’s smile faded.

“I didn’t,” she said quietly. “You know I didn’t.”

“I know,” he whispered. And for the first time, he said it like he meant it.

Outside the door, Dolly was back. She had come back early from the spa because her facial was too expensive and she wanted Bruce to pay. She heard voices in Bruce’s old room. She heard Fariana laughing.

She pushed the door open without knocking.

And she saw them.

Bruce on the floor. Fariana on his bed. Both looking at each other like they had forgotten the whole world. Bruce’s phone still playing the video: _“Tip number 4: A cunning wife might still love you...”_

Dolly’s face twisted.

“Oh wow,” she said, voice dripping with poison. “So this is what we do now? We skip work to watch videos about our wife? Your WIFE, Bruce? I thought we were getting a divorce?”

Fariana stood up immediately. The warmth from seconds ago gone.

“Hey, can you please mind leaving us some space. He is still my husband though somehow a servant,” Fariana said again, but this time it wasn’t funny. It was protective. Sharp.

Dolly laughed, fake. “Servant? He’s not even going to work because of you! You’re ruining him, Fariana! You’re cunning, just like the video says!”

Bruce stood up. “Dolly, enough.”

“No, let her talk!” Fariana snapped. “Let her say what she really thinks! That I’m cunning? That I’m manipulative? Coming from the woman who was sleeping in my husband’s guest room while I was still in the house?”

“At least I didn’t fake a cheating scandal to keep his money!” Dolly screamed.

“I DIDN’T FAKE ANYTHING!” Fariana screamed back.

Bruce stepped between them. “BOTH OF YOU, STOP!”

The room shook. Maria came running down the hallway.

For three seconds, nobody breathed.

Then Bruce did something no one expected.

He picked up his laptop, closed it. Picked up his phone, turned off the stupid video.

“I didn’t go to work today,” he said, looking at both of them, “because I’m tired. I’m tired of both of you yelling. I’m tired of this house feeling like a courtroom. I’m tired of searching on Google how to live with my own wife.”

He looked at Fariana. “You want me to be your servant for a month? Fine. I’ll be your servant. But you’re going to sit with me and watch ONE movie tonight. No Dolly. Just us. Like the deal said. Front row. Popcorn.”

Fariana’s eyes widened. That was in the deal, yes, but she thought he’d try to cancel.

He looked at Dolly. “And you... you said you’d clean her shoes. Go do that. Now.”

Dolly looked like she’d been slapped. “Bruce, you’re choosing her?”

“I’m not choosing anyone. I’m keeping a deal I made.”

Dolly stormed out, but not before grabbing Bruce’s phone from Fariana’s hand and throwing it on the floor. The screen cracked.

Fariana looked at the cracked screen. Then at Bruce.

“You’re really not going to work?”

“No.”

“Because of my cunning lifestyle?” She tried to joke, but her voice shook.

Bruce picked up the pink beauty blender from the floor and threw it at her. She caught it.

“Because my wife,” he said, “is cunning enough to make a CEO miss work to learn how to do eyeliner. And I need to get better at it before tonight. I’m not going to embarrass myself at the movies.”

Fariana stared at the beauty blender. Then at him. Then she burst out laughing again, but this time it was soft, and a little wet.

“You’re so bad at this, Bruce.”

“Then teach me, you cunning woman.”

And for a second, in that messy bedroom with a cracked phone and a YouTube video still whispering in the background — _“Tip number 5: Sometimes a cunning wife just wants you to listen...”_ — it almost felt like they weren’t divorcing at all.