Chapter 4

That evening, at a quiet bar called "Firefly", two beautiful women sat together in a booth bathed in dim blue lighting. The one with a chic pixie cut was just radiating fury.

"What the hell is Lucian Muller thinking? This is a slap in your face!"

Alinta Gardner practically shoved her phone at Marisol. The screen displayed those news headlines from earlier.

"Everyone knows Nevaeh and Lucian's history—childhood sweethearts, practically betrothed since they were kids! And now, he makes her CEO while still married to you?

"It's not just at Muller Group, but at the new tech subsidiary he personally backs too! He's spitting on you! He's making you a laughingstock!"

Her anger grew with every word.

Marisol looked down and smiled faintly. "Since when has this been new? Let them laugh at me."

From the moment she fell for Lucian and married him, she became the joke of their social circle. Countless "friends" had sneered behind her back, mocking how a so-called talentless gold-digger had somehow caught the unattainable moon.

His cold indifference after marriage only cemented it. It was proof he didn't value her. Every encounter since had been laced with condescension. If she let every slight get to her, she'd have collapsed from rage long ago.

Still, today's news stung.

As his wife, she'd studied computer science, honed her skills, and eagerly applied to Muller Group. All that only to be blacklisted by Lucian's order and was met with disdain and cold dismissal.

Yet Nevaeh? The moment she returned, Lucian handed her the CEO position of his new tech division on a silver platter. The double standard couldn't be more glaring.

"Enough about them," Marisol said, forcing a smile to soothe Alinta. "Tonight's about my divorce plans."

Alinta was Marisol's close friend since college. She studied law and had practiced for nearly seven years. She had become a well-known lawyer in the country and had excellent skills. Though she didn't often handle divorce cases, Marisol thought of her first when deciding to divorce Lucian.

She at least could openly discuss the messy fragments of her failed marriage with someone familiar. Alinta studied Marisol's expression before finally putting her phone away. She was relieved to see no visible distress.

"Fine." Then she added bitterly, "Let's not waste breath on that bastard."

She pulled a prenuptial agreement from the stack of documents on the table and pointed to specific clauses with a frown. Her face twisted between reluctance and anger.

"I went through everything you sent last night. This prenup was his safeguard—if you divorce Lucian, you get nothing.

"Not a single cent. You walk away empty-handed."

Marisol wasn't surprised.

Lucian never loved or trusted her. The prenup made sure everything under Muller Group stayed with Muller Group. She wouldn't benefit from a shred of it.

"What about compensation?" Marisol asked calmly.

She never wanted to leech off Lucian's wealth. But after seven years of contributing to that household—seven years of thankless labor—she deserved at least that much.

"Tricky. First, there's the prenup. Plus, you've been employed this whole time, and Lucian made damn sure his finances stayed separate from yours..."

Marisol understood before Alinta finished.

Still, she pressed, "What if he's at fault? If there's infidelity?"

Alinta nodded. "With solid evidence, we'd have a shot."

Unfortunately, Marisol had none.

At this point, walking away with nothing seemed inevitable. But she refused to stay in this marriage—not after years of neglect, betrayal, and humiliation.

They spent the next few hours strategizing until finally leaving the bar around 10:00 pm. The moment they stepped outside, Marisol froze.

"What's wrong?" Alinta followed her gaze.

"It's Lucian's car."

Marisol pointed to the black Phantom parked diagonally across the street. The familiar license plate glared back at them.

She knew that car all too well. Just as they were wondering why Lucian's car was parked there, the rear door opened. Out stepped a beautiful woman in a short, peach-colored puffer jacket.

The woman's chestnut waves tumbled messily around her shoulders. Her almond-shaped eyes glistened with unshed moisture, and her fair cheeks were flushed despite the winter chill.

Her steps faltered slightly as she exited the car, and her unzipped jacket added to her disheveled appearance. Something was clearly off.

Both women immediately recognized her. That was Nevaeh, Lucian's childhood sweetheart. Neither of them expected to run into her here.

Noticing their gaze, Nevaeh looked over. She hastily covered her smudged lipstick with one hand when she saw Marisol. Then Lucian emerged from the same door.

Marisol's sharp eyes caught every detail. Lucian wore only a fitted suit, and its buttons were undone.

His white dress shirt hung open at the collar. It was smeared with lipstick stains. His lips appeared unnaturally red, as if stained. Moreover, his fox-like eyes narrowed with post-coital satisfaction. He looked dangerously alluring.

Though their marriage lacked love, Marisol knew his tells. This was Lucian after he experienced passion. What had transpired in that car needed no explanation.

Couldn't even wait to get home with his precious childhood sweetheart, huh? Meanwhile, she and Lucian hadn't been intimate in nearly a year.

How long had this been going on? How thoroughly had they deceived her?

Marisol's face was drained of color. Standing just inside the bar's entrance, she remained unnoticed as Lucian steadied the shaky Nevaeh.

He leaned close to murmur something private. Their foreheads nearly touched. It was an intimate proximity that spoke volumes.

"Holy shit! These two fucking cheaters—right on the street? Have they no shame?"

Alinta exploded first. Seeing her best friend betrayed like this—and stumbling upon the scene—ignited her fury. She nearly charged at them as her rage burned through restraint.

Marisol quickly grabbed her arm and said in a steady voice, "Don't cause a scene. I took photos."

Alinta was a lawyer. A public altercation would wreck her career, and it certainly wasn't worth it for these trash humans. Besides, she already had evidence.

Alinta froze momentarily before exclaiming, "You actually took pictures?"

She was about to say more when she felt Marisol's grip trembling slightly against her arm. Her anger instantly softened into a mix of heartache and frustration.

Across the street, Lucian—who was still standing close to Nevaeh—suddenly turned toward them. He furrowed his brow in displeasure after hearing something Nevaeh said.

He was surprised to see Marisol here. Hadn't she been on a business trip? Why was she back so soon?

Well, not that it mattered. But if she'd returned just to stalk and photograph him, she'd crossed a line.

How pathetic.

Lucian's expression darkened with disgust as he assumed this was deliberate. He rapped his knuckles once against the half-lowered driver's window and issued a cold command.

"You handle this."

He couldn't be bothered to approach her himself.

"Yes, sir."

The driver—a stern, sharp-featured young man—stepped out immediately and strode toward Marisol.