Chapter 10

ISABELLA'S POV

The days had melted into a haze of intense, mind-numbing pleasure mixed with growing emotional distance. This particular morning was no exception. I woke to the delicious sensation of Ethan’s hot mouth between my thighs. His rough stubble scraping against my sensitive inner thighs as he licked me with long, greedy strokes, savoring every drop of my arousal. He sucked my swollen clit into his mouth, flicking it rapidly with his tongue while two thick fingers plunged deep inside my already soaked pussy, curling relentlessly against my G-spot.

“Ethan… oh fuck...” I moaned loudly, my hips bucking against his face as pleasure coiled tight in my belly. He groaned against my folds, the vibration sending sparks through me. He added a third finger, stretching me wide, while pumping me faster until I shattered hard, gushing on his tongue with a broken scream. He lapped up every drop like a man possessed, refusing to stop until my thighs stopped trembling.

He climbed up my body, his fat, elongated cock heavy and leaking against my thigh. Without a word, he thrust into me in one powerful stroke, burying himself to the hilt. The stretch was exquisite, the fat head pressing firmly against my cervix.

“Still so fucking tight, why?” He growled, as he start to pound into me with deep, punishing strokes. He sucked hard on my breasts, biting and pinching my nipples while his hips slammed against mine. The wet, obscene sound of his thick cock driving into my cum-filled pussy filled the room. He flipped me onto all fours, fisted my hair, and railed me from behind, spanking my ass red as I came again, squirting around him.

We moved from the bed to the shower. Hot water cascaded over us as he lifted me against the tiles, my legs wrapped around his waist. He fucked me standing, deep and brutal, grinding against my clit until I came once more, sobbing his name. Only then did he finally spill inside me, flooding my womb with thick, hot ropes of cum.

But even as he held me afterward, his cock still twitching inside me, his emotional wall is already back up. He kissed my shoulder once, then pulled away.

Later that afternoon, while Ethan is out handling business, I went into his private home office to drop off some household documents. His laptop is open on the desk, a security report still displayed on the screen. My heart stopped as I read it.

Proof. .. a clear footage from the night he was drugged. Natalie Brooks had paid the waiter to spike Ethan’s drink. She had orchestrated the whole thing. And Ethan had known for days ... the timestamp on the report confirmed it. He had known when I asked him directly. He had looked me in the eyes and kept it from me.

The betrayal hit like a physical blow. All those nights he had devoured me like he can't get enough on the kitchen island, fucked my tits on his desk, made me ride him until I couldn’t walk, held me close while buried deep inside me… yet it was just sex to him. A convenient outlet. Something we had both gotten used to. There had never been any real promise. No truth or future.

Tears burned my eyes as I sat at his desk. I pulled out the divorce papers I had prepared days ago in quiet moments of doubt. My hand barely shook as I signed them cleanly. I left them centered on his desk, right on top of the report about Natalie.

I went to the guest room ... the room that had never truly been mine ... and packed only the things I had brought into this marriage two years ago. The white mug from my family home. A few simple clothes. I made sure I brought nothing he had bought me or from the life I had quietly built here. I left everything else neatly folded in the closet.

With one small suitcase, I walked out of the penthouse for the last time, closing the door softly behind me. The elevator ride down feels endless. By the time I reached the hotel across the city, my chest feels hollow.

ETHANS POV

The apartment is too quiet when I stepped inside that evening. There is no warm scent of dinner or the soft footsteps I am used to hearing everyday I come back. And there is no sight of Isabella waiting with that careful, guarded look in her eyes that always made my chest tighten.

I head straight to my office, loosening my tie as I move. The moment I saw the papers on my desk, rage explods through me like wildfire.

Divorce papers. Signed by Isabella Sinclair. Looking very clean, and precise, with no extra demands or hestation. She even left them directly on top of the Natalie report ... such a deliberate message.

I snatched the papers and tear them violently, ripping them into shreds again and again until pieces scatter across the floor like snow. “Fuck you,” I growled into the empty room, my chest heaving.

I stormed into the guest room only to see her white mug gone. Only the things I had bought her remained ... the expensive dresses, jewelry, even the lingerie I had torn off her body countless times. She had taken almost nothing. Just what she came with.

The memories slammed into me. Her screams as I ate her pussy on the kitchen island until she squirted down my chin. The way her tits felt around my cock as I fucked them. How perfectly her tight cunt gripped me when I pounded her against the window, on the stairs, on the bedroom floor. The way she clung to me at dawn after I had fucked her for hours, and my cock is finally softening inside her cum-soaked heat.

And now she is gone.

I knew exactly where she would be ... probably with Sofia in some discreet hotel. I could have my driver there in twenty minutes. I could drag her back, throw her over my shoulder, pin her down on my bed and fuck the idea of leaving out of her head until she is sobbing my name again.

But I didn’t move.

I poured a large whiskey and sit in the dark living room, staring out at the glittering city. Stubborn pride burns hotter than the regret creeping in at the edges. She signed the papers, chose to walk away after everything without asking questions or thinking it twice. After I had claimed every inch of her body so thoroughly. If she wanted out so badly, then let her go.

I am not going to chase her and I am not going to beg.

The torn divorce papers lay scattered at my feet like a broken promise. The penthouse feels colder and emptier than it had in two years. Her absence is a physical ache.

I finish the whiskey and pour another one. The investigation into Natalie is complete, but it no longer mattered. The real damage is done here, in this apartment, by the woman who had quietly become everything I didn’t know I needed.

And I had let her walk away.

ISABELLA'S POV

In the quiet hotel room, I sat with my white mug in my hands, staring at the wall. The ache between my thighs is still there ... a cruel reminder of how thoroughly Ethan had used me these past weeks. Every position, every filthy word, every load of his cum deep inside me… it had all been meaningless to him.

He had known about Natalie and hidden it. He had fucked me like he owned me but never let me in.

I curled up on the bed and let the tears come. Tomorrow I would figure out the rest of my life without Ethan Sinclair.

For tonight, I allowed myself to mourn the marriage that had finally felt real ... even if only to me.