Christine’s POV
Francis’s fists clenched, his face filled with defiance and desperation. “When did it come to this, Christine?” he asked. “When did we become this?”
I stared at him, refusing to let his emotions affect my decision. My fingers gripped the edge of my desk. “It became like this the second you decided to steal, Francis, secretly meeting people.” I said, my voice cutting through his attempt at sentiment.
“You made that choice. Not me.” I added.
For a moment, I thought he might snap at me and act dominant like he always does. “Christine, please,” he said, stepping closer. “I didn’t mean for it to go this far. You have to believe me. I’ll fix this. Just… don’t do this to me. Don’t cut me off like this.” His words sounded genuine that I almost believed him.
I turned away, my gaze fixed on the window. His begging grated against my nerves, each word a reminder of his betrayal. “You’re wasting your breath,” I said coldly, not bothering to look at him. “You admitted to the fraud,
