My fingers tapped lightly against the marble table.
“You need to understand, Mrs. Shaw is not a position won simply by having a man’s love.”
That night, Ethan returned.
With dozens of men, filling an entire floor.
He had never shown such force except against tough rivals.
This was his first time drawing battle lines against me.
We sat at opposite ends of the negotiation table, each backed by dozens of people.
“Twice now,” he said, his fingers tapping lightly against the marble surface.
“Sophia, you should apologize to her.”
“A fool who delivers herself to my door deserves to pay for her recklessness.”
Half of Ethan’s face was hidden in the dark, his expression unreadable.
“Does Mr. Shaw really think his wife so submissive, that she’ll sit quietly while a mistress walks in?”
The flare of a lighter cut the darkness, igniting the cigarette between my lips.
“Mr. Shaw, you should know—through all these bloody years in the New York elite circle, I’ve been bleeding beside you.
“To pit a canary against me—are you mad, or is she?”
Once more, I placed the divorce papers in front of him, exhaling smoke.
“This is your last chance.”
Moonlight cast across the marble table, hiding both our faces.