All Chapters of HE PLANNED TO DIVORCE ME, SO I DUMPED HIM FIRST : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

​Amelia stood frozen beside her car door, her eyesbrows furrowed. ​"Natalie, that's impossible," Amelia said, trying to keep her voice light. "He left for the airport hours ago. His flight to Chicago was at nine." ​"Amelia, listen to me," Natalie said, her tone dead serious. "I was sitting near the front entrance when they came in. From behind, I actually thought the woman he was with was you for a second because of her dark hair. But when they walked past my table, I saw her face. It wasn't you. And the man holding her hand and pulling out her chair was Adrian." ​Amelia let out a breathless, nervous laugh. "Nat, you're probably misseeing things. L'Orangerie is dark, and half the men in the financial district wear dark suits. It's just a coincidence. Maybe someone happens to look like him." ​"I know what your husband looks like, Amelia," Natalie insisted, her voice dropping lower. "They sat down at a corner booth near the back. He was smiling at her, leaning across the table. T

​Adrian’s kiss was deep and firm, pulling Amelia tightly against his chest in the quiet foyer. ​For a moment, all the stress from the evening melted away. Amelia wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss and leaning into his familiar warmth. She felt a massive wave of relief wash over her body. He was here with her, he was hers, and she had worried over nothing. Natalie’s wild assumptions, the blurry photo, the strange watch—it was all just a huge misunderstanding. ​Adrian pulled back just an inch, his warm breath fanning against her lips. He smiled down at her in the dim light of the hallway, his eyes dark with desire. ​"Let's move this to the bedroom," he murmured softly, his voice low and raspy. Amelia nodded and ​he took her hand, his warm fingers interlacing with hers, and led her down the quiet hallway into their master bedroom. The space was softly lit by the ambient glow of streetlights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Adrian closed the heavy d

The breakfast room was bright with morning sunlight, but the warmth outside did little to soften the tension around the glass dining table. Fresh fruit, warm pastries, and a pot of coffee had been arranged neatly across the table. Amelia sat beside Adrian with her hands folded quietly in her lap, while across from them, Gloria Cross stirred her coffee with the kind of deliberate calm that usually meant she had something unpleasant to say. Beside her, Claire lazily turned a silver spoon between her fingers. For eight years, Amelia had learned to endure the Cross family's attitude toward her. Gloria had never completely accepted that Adrian had married an orphan with no family name or fortune behind her. Claire had been even less subtle, often treating Amelia as though she had somehow won a prize by marrying Adrian. Amelia had never corrected them. They had no idea that the woman they considered a charity case was actually the heiress to the Valmont fortune. Gloria lifted her eyes

By early afternoon, the quiet humming of the executive floor felt almost peaceful to Amelia.Now that the dark cloud of suspicion had cleared from her mind, she felt a profound sense of relief—and a deep, burning regret. How could she have let her own insecurities poison her thoughts? Adrian worked tirelessly to build a future for them, standing up to his own mother and sister to defend her honor, and here she was, questioning his every move over a misread notification.I need to be a better wife, Amelia thought, staring down at the thick stack of financial reports she had just finalized for him. I need to start trusting the man who loves me.She smoothed down the front of her skirt, took a deep, steadying breath, and picked up the leather folder containing the completed project files. Each step down the carpeted hallway felt lighter than the last. The weight that had been pressing against her chest since yesterday was finally starting to lift.When she reached Adrian’s private corner

The drive back to the estate was quiet, the evening traffic blurring into long streams of red and white light through Amelia’s windshield.Her hands were still rigid against the leather steering wheel. Her chest felt heavy, hollowed out by the lingering ghost of her confrontation with Natalie. I had to do it, she told herself for the hundredth time, staring straight at the dark asphalt ahead. She forced my hand. She was trying to poison my home.By the time she pulled into the long, plastered driveway of the Cross family residence, night had fully fallen. Amelia parked her sedan, gathered her purse, and stepped out into the cool evening air. She took a slow, deep breath, consciously smoothing down her clothes and shaking away the cold numbness in her chest. Tonight was about starting fresh. She was going to make Adrian’s favorite dinner, leave it ready for him, and prove to herself that her marriage was solid, warm, and untouched by outside noise.She walked through the front doors, t