Adrian didn’t even look.
He wrinkled his nose like he was judging a room he didn’t want to be in.
“This place smells like blood and desperation,” he said. “Let’s make this quick.”
Then he tossed a thick folder onto my chest.
It landed near my incision and pain flashed so sharply I nearly cried out.
“Sign the divorce documents,” he said, bored and impatient. “Now. I’m done pretending.”
The Threat Was the Part That Confirmed It Was Planned
Zara leaned against the wall like this was normal.
“It’s best if you cooperate,” she added, sweet as poison.
Adrian pointed to a highlighted clause.
“I keep my company. I keep what I built,” he said. “You take the settlement, disappear, and don’t embarrass me by fighting.”
Then his voice changed—lower, colder.
“If you fight, I’ll bury you in legal hell. And I’ll take the twins too.”
For a beat, I couldn’t breathe.
Not because I was afraid of him.
Because I finally saw him clearly.
This wasn’t a husband panicking under stress.
This was a man executing a plan.
Delivered like a business presentation.
Read more on the next page ⬇️⬇️⬇️
