Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Mabel's Point of View

My fingers tightened around the divorce papers until the pages crumpled beneath my grip.

Pregnant?

The word echoed in my head until it became almost meaningless.

Tears stung my eyes, blurring the words on the paper. I had thought cheating was the height of betrayal. I had thought there was nothing worse than finding out my husband had been sleeping with your best friend.

But a pregnancy?

He had gotten her pregnant.

“Shocked?” Dexter asked, his voice cutting through the silence. “What were you expecting? That I'd stay married to a barren woman like you?”

The words hit harder than I expected.

I stared at him, searching his face for even a trace of the man I had married. The man who used to look at me like I was the only woman in the world. The man who never raised his voice at me, who used to make me believe I was safe with him.

He was gone.

Or maybe I had simply been stupid enough to believe he existed.

“What didn't I do for you?” I asked, my voice breaking.

I stepped closer and pressed my index finger against his chest, tears rolling freely down my cheeks.

“I did everything, Dexter. I supported you. I worked all day to pay for things you couldn't afford. I fed you. I cooked for you. I stood in that kitchen sweating while you sat comfortably somewhere else, then cleaned up after you. I was your personal, unpaid therapist whenever things weren't going your way. I cleaned this entire house. I ran errands. I went grocery shopping with my own money every other day.”

My voice trembled, but I couldn't stop.

“And somehow, after doing all that, I still made time for myself because I knew you wanted a wife who looked good. I got naked and bent over for you, even when I was exhausted, just to make sure you were satisfied. I gave you everything I had, Dexter.”

I paused, swallowing.

“Everything.”

He stared at me without saying a word.

“I was your wife,” I whispered. “I wasn't asking for perfection. I was asking you to appreciate me.”

“You are barren!”

His roar exploded across the room.

A few droplets of saliva flew from his mouth on my face.

I froze.

The man standing in front of me was the same man whose arms I had fallen asleep in countless nights. The same man I had trusted with every vulnerable part of myself.

And now he was looking at me like I was something defective.

I slowly turned toward Rosaline.

She stood there quietly, watching me fall apart.

I shook my head, tears and snot running down my face. I must have looked horrible, but for once, I couldn't bring myself to care.

I prayed.

God, I prayed.

Hard enough that the heavens had to hear me. Hard enough that even hell should have heard me.

Please let this be a dream.

A nightmare.

A cruel prank.

Anything.

But this wasn't a prank.

This wasn't some stupid mistake they could apologize for tomorrow.

I looked between them again and I could see the relief on their faces.

They weren't afraid of me finding out anymore, they had been waiting for this moment and now that they got it…..

They were relieved.

“How long have you been sleeping with her?” I asked.

Dexter's jaw tightened.

“That doesn't matter anymore.”

“It matters to me.”

“Mabel, we're getting divorced. What difference does it make now?”

“The difference is that I was your wife while you were sleeping with my best friend.” My voice cracked. “But I guess that only matters to me.”

He held my gaze for a few seconds before looking away.

“I was waiting for the right time.”

I almost laughed.

The right time?

Ridiculous.

He had prepared divorce papers and kept them hidden from me. He had slept with my best friend. He had even gotten her pregnant.

And apparently, the right time was the day after our anniversary.

The anniversary dinner I had spent hours preparing and the food I had carefully cooked and the table I had decorated and the dress I had worn because I wanted my husband to look at me and feel lucky.

All while he already knew he was going to leave me.

My chest tightened.

“There's no need to drag this out when a baby is already involved,” Rosaline finally spoke. Her voice was calm. Almost annoyingly calm. “Just sign the fucking papers.”

I bit down on my lower lip until I tasted blood.

I refused to cry in front of her again.

My knees felt weak as I walked toward the nightstand and placed the papers on it. I ran my palm over the crumpled pages, trying to smooth them out.

It felt strangely fitting that I was trying to straighten something that could never be whole again.

I wiped my face with the back of my wrist, sniffling.

My fingers trembled as I picked up the pen.

For four years, I had signed my name beside Dexter's on countless documents.

Mrs. Mabel Perez. His wife. His partner. The love of his life.

This time, I was signing myself out of his life.

I lowered the pen.

My signature came out shaky and almost unrecognizable.

I stared at it for a moment.

Then I grabbed the papers, closed them, and walked toward Dexter.

I held them out and he took them without hesitation.

I turned to leave before I could embarrass myself by breaking down in front of them again.

“Mabel.”

I kept walking.

Then his words stopped me.

“I wasted four years pretending you were the woman I wanted.”

My breath caught as I slowly turned my head to look at him.

Dexter looked at me, the divorce papers still in his hand.

He continued, literally casually without hesitation.

“I wasted my time l.”

For a second, I couldn't hear anything, not even the air conditioner.

Just my own breathing.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to turn around. I needed to leave.

My hand had barely reached the doorknob when Dexter caught my wrist.

He stepped closer, lowering his voice as if his words were meant only for me.

“Zyran Perez is coming over by evening. You know what that means.”

Of course I knew.

Zyran Perez. The owner and CEO of Z Stitches.

One of Dexter's biggest rivals in the fashion industry.

Did I say one of the biggest?

I meant biggest.

If Dexter had one rival, it was Zyran. If Dexter had a hundred rivals, it would be Zyran in disguise as a hundred people.

Z Stitches was slightly larger than Dee Fashion House, a bitter truth neither Dexter nor I had ever liked acknowledging when I was still the woman standing beside him.

The numbers didn't lie, neither did the market nor the statistics.

Zyran was ahead and Dexter hated it.

I had seen Zyran's name in business magazines more times than I could count. I had heard Dexter complain about his business decisions, his strategies, his expansion plans, even the smallest things that somehow became competition between them.

Dexter could complain about a badly cooked steak for twenty minutes, but he could complain about Zyran for an entire evening.

That was how much the man got under his skin.

Dexter was successful, but Zyran was the one person he desperately wanted to surpass.

Zyran was the only person he couldn't stand being behind.

So why was he telling me this now?

Our marriage had just ended.

He didn't need his supportive wife anymore.

He had Rosaline now. His pregnant “hot sexy” mistress who he had apparently chosen over me.

“Okay,” I replied flatly.

“You have to be downstairs during the meeting. I can't let Zyran see that my marriage just fell apart.”

Without turning, I asked, “You want me to sit through a business meeting right now?”

“No. I want you to behave normally.”

A bitter laugh escaped me.

“I'm not in the mood to entertain anyone, especially a man I barely know.”

“I'm not asking.”

I finally turned to face him. “You really want me to sit through a business meeting after what just happened?”

Dexter scoffed.

“I want you to act like an adult.”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“An adult? You cheated on me with my best friend, got her pregnant, handed me divorce papers, and somehow I'm the one behaving badly?”

“Keep your voice down.” His voice was low, but the tension in his jaw told me his teeth were grinding tightly.

“Why? Afraid she'll hear me?”

His expression hardened, “Listen. Zyran is my rival, not my friend.”

“How is that my business?”

“Wipe your tears, get dressed, and come downstairs when it's time.”

I stared at him.

This nutjob still expected me to perform the role of his supportive—

No.

Scratch that.

His STUPID wife.

The same wife he had just decided wasn't good enough for him.

He had to be insane.

“Fine.”

I eventually agreed, not because Dexter had convinced me, but because I refused to give him another reason to accuse me of embarrassing him.

I left and went back into the room.

Our room.

Except it wasn't ours anymore.

Soon, I supposed, it would be theirs.

My clothes were still hanging in the wardrobe. The little decorations I had carefully picked were still sitting exactly where I had placed them. Even the small vase on the nightstand was one I had bought because Dexter once said he liked the color.

Four years of my life were scattered around this room.

And suddenly, every single thing looked like evidence of a life that had never been what I thought it was.

I changed into a simple red dress, but instead of getting ready, I collapsed onto the bed.

I curled into myself and closed my eyes. After all, sleep would be kinder than reality.

When I woke up, it was already evening.

For a few seconds, I lay there staring at the ceiling, trying to remember why my chest felt so heavy.

I pushed myself off the bed and wiped my face before heading downstairs. I wanted to see if the meeting had already started.

Maybe, just maybe, if I kept myself busy, I wouldn't think about what had happened.

I had barely reached the living room when the front door opened.

Dexter walked in with a man beside him.

Zyran Perez.

My eyes lingered for a second before I quickly looked away.

Dexter noticed.

“Mabel,” he called.

I raised my head.

“Go upstairs and freshen up. We'll be discussing business.”

I didn't move immediately.

I simply stared at him.

After everything that had happened, he still spoke to me like nothing had changed. Like I was still the obedient wife who would drop everything the moment he asked.

“Mabel!” His voice hardened, “Now.”

Immediately, I went back upstairs, sat by the dresser and stared at myself in the mirror.

I reached for the perfume Dexter had bought me on our second anniversary.

My fingers stopped around the bottle.

I remembered how happy I'd been when he gave it to me.

I put it back.

Instead, I picked another one.

If I was going downstairs to pretend my marriage hadn't just ended, I didn't want to smell like a memory of him.

I washed my face, applied enough makeup to hide the redness around my eyes, fixed my hair, and put on lipstick.

Then I stood in front of the mirror and practiced a smile.

It wasn't that bad, it looked convincing enough.

I headed downstairs.

By the time I entered the living room, Dexter was already seated with Zyran in the dining.

I stopped for half a second, just staring.

So this was Zyran Perez.

I had seen his face in business magazines countless times, but seeing him in person was different. He carried himself with a type of confidence that made it obvious he didn't demand attention.

He wasn't dressed like someone trying to prove he was powerful..

His black outfit was simple, perfectly fitted, and expensive in the kind of way I couldn't explain. A sleek watch draped on his wrist as he sat back, listening to Dexter without interrupting him.

Then his eyes lifted.

Blue.

Strikingly fucking blue like an ocean I could drown in.

They settled on me with a calmness that made me suddenly conscious of the fact that I had just spent the last several hours crying.

His black hair was neatly styled, his brown skin smooth beneath the warm lighting. The richness of his skin tone made me realize the beauty of mixed race.

His Adam's apple moved as he swallowed. But it was his build that caught my attention for a second longer than it should have.

Broad shoulders Intimidating and annoyingly attractive.

I immediately looked away.

I had enough problems.

The last thing I needed was to notice how attractive my husband's biggest rival was.

But looking at him now, I understood something Dexter would probably never admit.

Zyran didn't need to announce himself as a threat.

He simply walked into a room, and people got jealous of the kind of man he was, including Dexter.

I had barely taken a step forward when I felt Zyran's eyes follow me.