Leaving the Divorce Papers After Overhearing His French

Chapter 3

Traffic was sparse. Arthur's convoy moved fast.

Fifteen minutes later, the taillights slowed. They pulled up to the side entrance of an exclusive suburban club.

I parked behind an oak tree at the corner and watched Arthur step out of his car.

A woman was waiting on the club steps. The second she saw him, she ran down and threw herself into his arms.

Arthur caught her smoothly and kissed her forehead.

Under the club's lights, she tilted her head back. I saw her face.

Chloe. My stepsister. The same girl who, two days ago at a family dinner, had held a glass of juice and sweetly called me "Elena."

The lights seemed blindingly bright tonight. But what burned my eyes wasn't her face. It was the vintage bronze key hanging around her neck.

It wasn't a necklace. Arthur had given it to me on our wedding day. It was the key to the Sterling family vault—the ultimate symbol of their power and wealth.

A year ago, it had vanished. As the lady of the house, I took the blame. The family elders punished and humiliated me in public. I searched for it for a whole year.

And all along, my husband had stolen it to give to his mistress.

Humiliation and rage clawed at my chest. He hadn't just betrayed me—he had hung me out to dry. All to make Chloe smile.

He was arrogant enough to think he had everything under control. He figured he could sweet-talk his mistress, slip back before dawn, and his obedient wife would be none the wiser.

He miscalculated.

I watched them walk into the club, arms wrapped around each other. I pulled out my phone and texted my private investigator.

Elena: Get the key around her neck tonight. Whatever it takes.

I rolled up the window, turned the car around, and drove back to the estate.

It was past midnight when I got back. I didn't return to the master bedroom. Instead, I pushed open a guest room door at the end of the second-floor hallway. I lay down fully clothed and closed my eyes.

I didn't know how much time had passed before frantic footsteps echoed outside. The door burst open.

Light spilled in from the hallway. Arthur stood in the doorway, breathing hard. He hadn't even taken off his jacket. He lunged to the bed, hauled me into his arms, and held me tight.

"Why are you sleeping here?" His voice trembled. His grip on my shoulders actually hurt. "I went to the master suite and you weren't there. I thought you..."

He trailed off.

I rested against his shoulder, staring at his slightly undone collar. A sickeningly sweet perfume clung to his shirt. Hours ago, he'd been holding another woman in this exact outfit.

"Thought I what?" I asked.

He didn't answer. He just squeezed me tighter. He was tense all over, playing the perfect husband terrified of losing his wife.

"The AC in the master bedroom was too cold," I said evenly.

The tension bled out of him. He let out a long breath and kissed my hair.

"You scared me to death," he murmured. "Tell me next time you switch rooms. I'd go crazy if I couldn't find you."

The next morning, Arthur showered, changed into a crisp tailored suit, and sat in the dining room drinking coffee. He was back to being the flawless CEO.

I walked downstairs holding a dark blue velvet box.

There was no jewelry inside. Instead, it held a signed divorce agreement and the family vault key—which my investigator had delivered that morning—snapped clean in half.

I walked over and placed it on the table.

Arthur looked up, amusement in his eyes. "For me?"

"The final anniversary surprise." I looked at him. "But you can't open it now. Lock it in your study's safe. Open it in a few days."

He raised an eyebrow. He set his coffee down, picked up the box, and weighed it in his hand, indulging my little game.

"Alright. Whatever you say." He slipped it into his pocket, stood up, and wrapped an arm around my waist to kiss my cheek. "Wait for me to have dinner tonight."

I nodded.

I watched his car roll out of the estate gates.