“Absolutely. Why else would he marry someone like Belinda? She’s not even attractive. Plus, she's an illegitimate child. A tool for revenge.”
The words hit like daggers, each one twisting deeper into her heart. Unattractive. Overweight. A pawn in his game of vengeance.
Belinda’s legs went weak. She swayed, her hands shaking as she gripped the door handle. Was it all a lie? The proposal, the love she thought they shared. Was she just an instrument of revenge all along? The laughter that bubbled up from her chest was bitter and hollow. She couldn't stop herself.
For a moment, everything blurred—her world, marriage, and identity.
She forced the door open.
Inside, the room fell deathly quiet as her eyes locked on Lucas. His presence was effortless and confident. He sat on the sofa, legs crossed, the leader of the Triumph Consortium in all his cold perfection. His face was sculpted and flawless. Everything about him screamed power and success.
Everything about him screamed untouchable.
A voice, thick with mockery, shattered the silence. "Verena, you were wondering what Lucas’s wife looks like? Well, here she is."
Belinda’s breath hitched. She could feel the sting of every word, every gaze that turned toward her.
Her heavy and soaked clothes clung to her, exposing the body she hated. Damp strands of her hair stuck to her face, framing the dark spot on her cheek. Her heart pounded, but she walked toward him anyway, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Lucas, I brought the mousse cake you ordered." Her voice was fragile, but she didn’t dare let it break.
Without sparing her a glance, Lucas slid the cake toward Verena, his voice cold. "Here, you can have it now."
Verena's smile was shy, almost playful. "I didn’t think you’d buy it for me."
A punch to the gut. The realization hit her like a freight train. She had spent five hours battling the storm, driven by the belief that Lucas had asked for the cake. She had worked herself to exhaustion for this. But it wasn’t for her. It was for Verena.
Her body trembled. Her fingers curled into fists, nails digging into her palms. But she couldn’t cry. Not now. Not in front of them.
"See, Verena? This is how much Lucas cares about you. He’d do anything for you."
"Exactly! Don’t waste her effort, Verena. She went through all that trouble. She must be so desperate to please Lucas." The words were like poison, curling into her veins.
Belinda’s mind spun, a whirlwind of confusion and anger. She wanted to scream, to lash out, but the words were trapped in her chest, suffocating her.
Then Lucas stood. His movements were slow, deliberate as if he’d planned this moment. He crossed the room and met her gaze with icy indifference.
"The divorce papers are on the coffee table at home. Sign them when you get back." His words cut through the air, cold and final.
Belinda froze. Every ounce of hope she had clung to evaporated in that single moment.
She had never mattered. Not to him. Not to anyone.
Her world shattered. Again.
