The Art of Walking Away
Camila’s POV
There’s something oddly exhilarating about catching your husband in bed with another woman. Most people would cry, scream, maybe even throw things. Me? I walked into the bedroom of our penthouse like I had all the time in the world, heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.
They didn’t notice me at first. The soft glow of the bedside lamp illuminated infuriatingly perfect face, his signature smirk in place as the brunette straddled him. Her breathless giggle cut through the silence like nails on a chalkboard.
I cleared my throat. Loudly.
The woman yelped, scrambling off him as if I’d walked in with a shotgun. She clutched the silk sheets to her chest, wide eyes darting between me and Lucas.
Lucas, of course, looked entirely unbothered. He leaned back against the headboard, shirtless and shameless, his steel-gray eyes locking on mine with infuriating calm.
“Camila,” he drawled, his voice smooth as the whiskey he poured after every conquest. “This is… unexpected.”
“Is it?” I asked, arching a brow. I stepped further into the room, my gaze flicking to the untouched champagne on the nightstand. “You weren’t exactly discreet. I could smell the desperation from the elevator.”
The brunette made a small, choking sound, her cheeks flaming. Lucas’ smirk only deepened.
“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, Camila,” he said, his tone light but tinged with warning.
“Oh, sweetheart,” I shot back, my voice sweet as poison, “jealousy implies I care. This?” I gestured at the scene before me. “This is just pathetic.”
I turned my attention to the woman, who was clutching the sheet like it was a lifeline. “What’s your name?” I asked.
“I—I—”
“Doesn’t matter,” I cut her off. “Let me guess. You thought you’d land a billionaire tonight, didn’t you? Maybe a shopping spree? A key to the penthouse?” I leaned in slightly, my smile razor-sharp. “Hate to break it to you, but he’s a terrible tipper. And worse in bed.”
“Camila.” Lucas’ voice was low, edged with irritation now.
I ignored him, grabbing the champagne bottle. “This is an excellent vintage,” I mused, pouring a generous splash onto the pristine white sheets. The woman gasped, clutching at the drenched fabric. “Oops.”
“Enough,” Lucas snapped, sitting up.
I turned to him, smile unwavering. “Oh, are we setting boundaries now? That’s rich, coming from a man who thinks fidelity is optional.”
“You’ve made your point,” he said tightly. “Now leave.”
“Leave?” I laughed, the sound sharp and dismissive. “You think I’m walking out of here humiliated? Oh no, darling.” I reached into my handbag and pulled out an envelope, tossing it onto the bed with theatrical flair. “I came prepared.”
“What’s that?” the brunette whispered, her voice trembling.
“Divorce papers,” I said brightly. “Signed, sealed, and ready to file. Congratulations, you’re officially a footnote in the downfall of Lucas Ramirez.”
The woman bolted, scrambling for her clothes. Lucas’ jaw tightened, his smirk vanishing for the first time. “Camila, you’re being ridiculous.”
“Am I?” I shot back, stepping closer. “Do you know what’s truly ridiculous? Sharing a bed with a man who doesn’t have the decency to fake loyalty. You should’ve done me the courtesy of taking this circus to a hotel.”
“You’re playing with fire,” he said, his voice dangerously soft.
I leaned in, close enough to see the storm brewing in his eyes. “Oh, Lucas,” I whispered, “I’m the one who lights the matches.”
The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, until he moved. One second he was sitting there, the next he was on his feet, towering over me. His hand shot out, gripping my wrist—not hard enough to hurt, but firm enough to make his point.
“You think you’ve won?” he asked, his voice low, a growl of barely restrained anger.
I tilted my head, unbothered. “No, darling,” I said softly. “I know I have.”
His lips crashed down on mine, a ferocious, punishing kiss that stole the air from my lungs. For a moment, I let him take what he wanted, my free hand fisting in his hair, matching his intensity with my own.
Then I bit his bottom lip. Hard.
He pulled back, breathing heavily, his eyes blazing with something dark and dangerous.
“Don’t think for a second,” I said, my voice steady, “that this changes anything. You may have control over your boardroom, but in this marriage? I’ve already walked away.”
I wrenched my wrist free, stepping back. The kiss had left me breathless, but I refused to let him see it.
“Enjoy your night,” I said, smoothing my dress. “I’m sure your little distraction will be thrilled to hear she’s unemployed by morning.”
And with that, I walked out, leaving him standing there, shirtless, furious, and utterly defeated.
