Something inside me snapped. The last thread of my restraint severed.
“Nathan,” I called out.
He stopped at the door, looking back over his shoulder with an annoyed expression. “What now, Karylle?”
I sat up, ignoring the pain in my abdomen. I looked at him, then at her, and felt absolutely nothing but clarity.
“I want a divorce.”
“I want a divorce.”
He froze. His hand, which had been hovering near Danica’s back, dropped to his side. For a second, the silence was absolute. Even Danica stopped her performative sobbing, her eyes widening as she looked between us.
“You’re… you’re kidding me, right?” Nathan stammered, a nervous laugh bubbling up from his throat. “Karylle, stop it. That’s not funny.”
“Does it look like I’m laughing?” I asked.
Fear flickered in his gaze. It wasn’t the fear of losing me—I knew that now. It was the fear of the scandal. The fear of the prenup. The fear of his grandfather.