Chapter 3

Christine curled her red lips into a smile and lifted her phone.

"I've been on the call with Stan the whole time. I heard every word you said. Jake, I'm not even going to bother making excuses anymore. I married you to use you. Luxe Atelier is already famous. I don't need you anymore, and I'm allowed to chase my own happiness."

Tom and Gavin exchanged a look, their grins barely contained.

Christine went on, "Marrying you was our fallback plan after the Booths failed to break into the fashion world. We pivoted to luxury goods instead. I'm the heir to the Booths. I get to be selfish. I'm not settling for a lifetime of compromise."

I had expected shamelessness. I just didn't expect her to say it so openly.

As it turned out, people could actually be this brazen.

I clasped my hands behind my back, digging my fingers into my palms until my fingertips went pale, forcing myself to calm down.

"Fine. Have Mr. Booth call me. I want to hear him say he's firing me himself."

Christine's expression tightened, fury flashing across her face. "We're adults. Don't pull that childish tattling nonsense. I'm the owner of Luxe Atelier. No one tells me what to do."

Tom rushed to curry favor, sneering, "Are you deaf? Ms. Booth told you to get out. What are you still standing there for?"

Gavin looked downright delighted. "Jake, stop blocking the entrance. The adult world is brutal. Don't embarrass yourself and give the neighbors something to laugh at."

I smiled faintly, my eyes ice-cold.

"Jake, don't think too highly of yourself. You're just the Booth family's guard dog. When your owners stop feeding you, you go beg on the street," Stan sneered.

"Damn it!"

I lunged forward, shoved Christine aside, and drove my fist straight into Stan's stomach.

Stan screamed. Christine slammed into me and spread her arms in front of him.

"Jake, if you're angry, take it out on me. Touch Stan again, and I'll make sure you won't get a cent from the divorce!"

I stared at the face I had looked at for five years, my stomach twisting.

In those five years, most of what she ever said to me was to send me on another business trip or tell me to work late and meet clients.

At dinners, she would push drinks on me just to make the clients laugh.

I used to think Christine was just a driven career woman who didn't know how to care about my feelings.

But now, she was standing in front of Stan, scolding me, her husband, with cold arrogance.

I clenched my fists, forcing down the nausea. "Christine, did you ever have any feelings for me at all for the past five years? You hid it well. Too well."

Stan shook his head, his expression still pained. With Christine shielding him, his bruised pride flared. He didn't dare throw a punch, but his mouth didn't hold back.

"Damn it! Do you know why you two never had kids in five years? Christine's been on birth control the whole time. She'd rather die than have your kid…"

Christine's eyes flickered, and she grabbed Stan's arm.

"Stan, stop!"

She knew I had gone to the hospital countless times these past years, all while she kept hinting that I was the problem.

"Christine," I asked quietly, "is it true?"