Chapter 5
The words barely landed before Nina Turner’s tears erupted–a torrent of heartbreak.
“I’d live anywhere–even a dump–if it meant being with you. But our child is innocent, Ethan. If Claire Shaw truly loved you, she’d accept our baby as her own! Instead, she humiliated you
and the Brooks family in front of everyone! A
woman like her-”
Before Nina Turner could finish venting her grievances, the cold–eyed man cut her off impatiently:
“Who gave you the right to judge my wife?”
“Nina Turner, I thought you knew your place.
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Clearly, I was mistaken.”
Taking the boarding pass from the attendant, Ethan Brooks glared down at her with icy
disdain.
“No matter how many children I have outside this marriage, Claire Shaw will always be my only wife.”
“Oh, and when you leave the villa, take every last trace of yourself with you.”
“I won’t have Claire throwing another tantrum because she stumbled upon something of
yours.”
Nina stood frozen for a long moment, tears streaming down her face, before letting out a
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broken, mocking laugh at his retreating figure.
“Hah! Ethan Brooks, I never thought you’d be
even more naïve than me.”
“After the way you’ve hurt Claire, do you really think she’s coming back?”
They say women understand women best–but
Ethan, already striding away, paid no heed to
her words.
He knew his wife.
For nine years, no matter how furious Claire had been with him, all it took was a sincere apology and the right gifts to win her back.
But this time was different.
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This time, she had gone as far as printing out
divorce papers.
Ordinary presents wouldn’t cut it.
Lost in thought, Ethan headed straight to a local
tattoo parlor the moment his plane landed.
He handed the artist a design I had sent him five years ago and said flatly:
“Skip the anesthetic. I’m in a hurry.”
Seven hours later, he walked out wearing a
bloodstained white shirt.
After acquiring millions in gifts and 999 pristine white roses, Ethan–now running on 48
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sleepless hours–drove himself to a secluded vineyard on the outskirts of London.
On the highway, he rehearsed the perfect apology in his head, over and over, nerves and anticipation twisting in his chest.
No matter how many variations he imagined, the first words out of his mouth would always
be the same raw, aching truth:
“Claire Shaw, I’ve missed you so much.”
Finally, he found me.
But the roses slipped from his grasp the second
he saw me.
Bathed in golden sunset, there I was, wrapped
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in the arms of a tall, striking man, laughing in a way Ethan had never seen before–playfully feeding him grapes, my smile effortless, unguarded.
The words “I’ve missed you so much” died in his
throat.
All he could choke out was:
“Who the hell is this?”
Feeling my tense, Logan Hayes tightened his
hold on me.
“You must be Ethan Brooks. I’ve seen your wedding photos–though damn, you look worse.
in person.”
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When I giggled at the jab, no longer stiff in Logan’s embrace, Ethan felt like a sledgehammer had slammed into his chest. His
fists clenched until his nails drew blood.
“Since you came all this way, I’ll humor you with an introduction,” Logan drawled. “I’m Logan Hayes. Claire’s-”
“Logan Hayes?” Ethan’s voice turned venomous. “Oh, I know exactly who you are.”
“The ungrateful bastard the Shaw family took in–the driver’s son they kicked out by Claire’s grandmother for stealing.”
Logan Hayes merely arched a brow, unruffled by Ethan’s provocation.
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But I, protective of him, frowned.
“Ethan Brooks, Logan isn’t what you think. More importantly–why are you here? Trespassing on private property is illegal, in case you forgot.”
Hearing the dismissal in my tone, Ethan’s expression darkened. For a moment, he forgot he’d come to beg me back, not pick a fight.
“Claire Shaw, I’m here in person. Enough with
the tantrums. Just come home.”
“Home?” I stared at him like he’d lost his mind.
“Did you crash your car and scramble your brain? We’re divorced. Or did you miss the papers with my signature on them?”
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Lost mail was rare, but not impossible.
Just as I considered reprinting the divorce documents, Ethan cut in, his voice low and
arrogant:
“That worthless piece of paper is shredded. Claire, I know why you’re angry. Nina Turner is handled–I swear she’ll never cross your path again.”
He stepped closer, reaching for my face–the
face he’d ached for.
But before he could touch me, I shoved him
back.
My voice was calm. “Mr. Brooks, when the Shaw family fell, yours was the only one to help. For
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nine years, I’ve repaid that debt as your wife. Now that Nina carries your child, the Brooks line is secured. I sincerely wish your family happiness.”
Ethan Brooks, a sharp man, couldn’t miss the finality in my words–I was done, and there’d be no coming back.
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