The Last Time He Touched Me

“Oh… Dennis, do-don't stop…” Cardi gripped the sheets beneath her and moaned as Dennis swept over her like a ball of fire.

She has been married for two years now, and she still experienced the same electrifying pleasure whenever her husband touched her. She encircled his powerful waist with her legs, relishing the orgasm that accompanied each stroke.

But just as she was about to reach her peak, everything stopped!…

Dennis abruptly pulled out, and a sudden emptiness swept over Cardi's belly.

He only did that when he was satisfied, but obviously he isn't—Cardi was sure he hadn't spilled any juice yet.

She quickly reached up, and touched his pectoral muscles, grazing it softly—wanting more, needing more. But he brushed her hand away.

Then came the words that shattered her world.

“I need a divorce,” Dennis said, his voice cold and bitter.

Cardi froze.

His words had pierced through her chest like a blade, slicing her heart to tiny bits. “What?” she exclaimed, as she heard her own trembling voice.

“I need a divorce. Temporarily.” His tone grew icier. “Mr. Greyson said if I marry his daughter, Andrea, the new office building contract will be mine—ours. Once I secure the deal and their wealth, I’ll divorce her… and marry you again.”

His words sounded like honey spiked with poison.

Douglas Greyson was Dennis' biggest client. His daughter, Andrea Greyson, six years younger than Cardi, had just graduated from college.

Dennis had often visited Mr. Greyson to strengthen business ties. That’s when Andrea entered the picture—bubbly, young, and instantly taken by Dennis. Since then, Cardi had heard her name constantly, mentioned in Dennis’s mouth like a poem he couldn’t stop reciting.

Suspicious at first, Cardi had followed him on several visits to the Greysons, posing as his assistant. But Dennis never acted out of line. He remained strictly professional—cold even. She began to trust him again.

Now, this? A divorce proposal for a deal? Her heart dropped like a stone.

Her puzzled expression faded into stunned silence when she saw the notification that popped up on the news app on her phone screen:

***“Dennis Blake, the city's most eligible bachelor and millionaire, broke the rumors that he had found the love of his life and spent eight hundreds of thousands of dollars to propose to her by booking the Empire State Building's exterior light show....”***

“Damn you!” Cardi shouted, flinging a pillow at him. Her chest hurt as the betrayal cut deeper than she could have imagined.

“Why!! Why! Dennis?!” She yelled, “How are you an eligible bachelor? Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Her sobs became frequent, tears running down her naked skin.

“I trusted you! I trusted you!”

She cried, smashing her fists against his muscular chest. “What did I lack that made you replace me with a little girl? DENNIS!”

He brushed her off like a butterfly’s wing, rising calmly to slip into his pants. His naked upper body still showed his seductive muscular figure, but his handsome face was covered with two tightly knitted eyebrows.

“Class. Standards. Reputation. Wealth,” he said, tilting his head. “You have none. Only a woman who has all of those is fit to be called my wife.”

Her heart shattered.

The one thing she swore she’d never do—marry a man driven by wealth—had become her reality.

He pulled out a pre-signed cheque and stuffed it into her hand.

“Take this. A hundred thousand dollars. It’s all yours now.”

That’s all she meant to him? Her love, her youth, her sacrifices—reduced to a single cheque?

Cardi stared at it, took a breath, and… tore it to shreds.

She wiped the tears on her face with the back of her hand.

“That’s your price, Dennis. Your stupid new found love and relationship are worth a hundred thousand dollars—not mine.” Her tone was bolder and fierce.

Dennis scowled, losing his composure.

“You seem to forget your financial status, Cardi. I’m being generous. Your pride is meaningless.”

He leaned forward.

“The class gap between us? You can't bridge it, even in the next twelve years. So what exactly are you proud of?”

He grabbed her chin roughly.

“You think tearing my cheque makes you powerful? Little rat.”

He turned to leave. “Pathetic,” he spat.

“Speaking of pathetic,” Cardi said, her voice was completely steel now, “you’ll find out soon.”

She grabbed her phone. She was done hiding!

Two years of pretending, suppressing who she really was—over.

Dennis didn’t know her. He didn’t know a thing.

“What now? Calling the cops? Mommy?” Dennis scoffed. “Or maybe you’re trying to call Mr. Greyson and ruin the deal? Don’t you dare—”

But Cardi was already on the call.

“Okay, brother. Tell Grandma. Tell Father. Tell everyone—I’m coming home. I’m coming to reclaim my seat.”

Dennis blinked.

**Grandma?**

What seat?

What the hell was she talking about?

He watched in confusion as Cardi began to freshen up, packing her things.

“So you have a grandma and you’re busy tearing cheques?” he mocked. “What if she has a stroke—how’d you pay her bills?”

She ignored him.

“Sure, you won't beg me for another cheque? I get quite generous when I’m dealing with the needy… you could get lucky, Cardi.” Dennis said coldly, a wicked smirk playing on his face.

Cardi zipped her briefcase.

“Don’t think you’ll be smiling for long, Dennis. You won’t go unpunished for this.”

“And who’s going to punish me?” he chuckled, blowing smoke from the cigarette he had stuffed in his mouth.

Cardi didn’t answer. Her silence was louder than rage. He didn’t deserve the truth. Not yet.

She locked the briefcase, turned to the door, and gave him one last look.

“Don’t come begging when you miss me. I’ll never come back to you... Dennis Blake.”

“Let’s see how long the big talk lasts. I’ll be here when you need another cheque.”

He laid back smugly. To him, she was just another obstacle removed.

-----

Cardi stormed down the stairs, her briefcase in one hand, the fire in her eyes brighter than ever. She was leaving Dennis Blake’s life—for good.

But just as she reached the foot of the stairs, her stride was halted.

There she stood—SABRINA BLAKE. Dennis’ mother. Poised like a vulture at the bottom step, arms crossed, expression smug.

Cardi’s jaw clenched. She’d suspected Sabrina had been eavesdropping. That woman never missed a chance to inject herself into Cardi’s misery.

“I’m leaving for good,” Cardi said, her voice low and sharp. “I’m sure that sounds like music to your ears.”

Sabrina smirked and tossed something at Cardi’s chest. A small, familiar bottle hit her before landing in her hand.

“Here,” Sabrina said with a snide smile. “I’m just making sure you don’t come back claiming you ‘forgot something.’”

Cardi stared down at the bottle—her pain reliever. The one she always kept by the nightstand. The one Sabrina had mocked her for.

Strangely, the insult also set her free, even though it hurt. Because she loved Dennis, she put up with Sabrina's cruelty for two years, smiling through backhanded remarks and turning the other cheek.

However, that is no longer the case!

Cardi’s fingers clenched around the bottle. That same medication had numbed her headaches for the past two years—the ones caused by Sabrina herself.

She should’ve said something. Anything. But silence was the sharpest weapon now.

Without a word, Cardi turned and walked past the woman who had never seen her as worthy.

-----

Outside, Cardi slid into a waiting taxi.

“Take me to Beverly Hills.”

The driver looked at her through the mirror.

“Which mansion, ma’am?”

She exhaled. “The Belmont Mansion.”

The driver’s jaw dropped.

“Anything wrong?” she asked.

“No ma’am,” he stammered. “I’m just... lucky to be driving a royalty home.”