Chapter 2

"You were grinding your teeth again last night. It kept me awake all night."

Julian stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the collar of his navy-blue French cuff shirt. He shot me a cold look through the glass.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my phone screen still open to the sleep tracker app.

The screen had already gone black.

"I barely moved last night," I said quietly, keeping my voice low.

"Barely moved? Then why didn't I get a single wink of sleep?" He spun around, his brows furrowing with irritation.

He strode over to the nightstand, picked up his Patek Philippe watch, and strapped it onto his wrist.

"Audrey, can you please stop walking around with that miserable face all the time?"

"I'm just saying, I didn't move." I looked up at him.

"Whatever. I don't have the energy to argue with you." He waved his hand dismissively, as if I were some hysterical child.

"I’ve already had the maid clean out the study. Starting tonight, I'm sleeping there."

There it was. He had finally said what he’d been planning all along.

I watched him finish fastening his watch strap, his movements smooth and decisive.

"Okay," I replied. Just one word.

Julian froze. He clearly hadn't expected me to agree so easily.

Based on his past experience, I should have had tears in my eyes, demanding answers, or desperately promising that I’d do better.

But the flash of surprise in his eyes was quickly replaced by contempt.

"I'm glad you're finally being reasonable. We both need some personal space."

He walked to the door, his hand resting on the brass handle. He paused.

"By the way, Chloe is coming over tonight to pick up some tax documents. Cook something nice."

Chloe.

At the mention of her name, my fingers tightened around my phone.

She was the new Chief Financial Officer at Julian’s company—young, beautiful, and an Ivy League grad.

Most importantly, she possessed the one thing Julian was currently obsessed with: an effortless, laid-back vibe.

"Got it," I said, standing up and heading toward the walk-in closet.

Julian didn't leave immediately. He stared at my back, trying to find a crack in my calm facade.

"Chloe has a sensitive stomach, so nothing too spicy. She likes fresh seafood."

He sounded like a perfect host, meticulously detailing his guest's preferences.

"We haven't bought seafood in months," I said, without turning around.

"Then go buy some! Audrey, you sit at home all day doing nothing. Can't you handle a simple dinner without me holding your hand?"

His voice rose, dripping with condescension.

I turned around to look at the man I had loved for seven years.

His suit was perfectly tailored, his hair immaculately styled. Every inch of him exuded the arrogance of a successful man.

"I'll buy it," I said, my tone remaining entirely flat.

Julian looked like he had punched a wall of cotton. His face soured.

"Just make sure you don't wear that sour face in front of Chloe. She’s a sweet girl. She doesn't understand the petty passive-aggressive drama of stay-at-home wives."

With that, he slammed the door and left.

With a loud bang, the massive villa plunged back into dead silence.

I walked to the window and watched his black Maybach pull out of the driveway.

The sun was bright, making my eyes sting.

I turned and walked into the study he had just prepared for himself.

The room smelled faintly of cedarwood cologne. It was Julian’s signature scent, but today, it made me feel slightly nauseous.

A few files were scattered across the desk. I walked over, intending to tidy them up.

Tucked beneath a stack of financial reports was a small pink sticky note.

Written in neat, looping cursive, complete with a playful smiley face:

*Julian, listening to you sigh on FaceTime last night broke my heart. See you tonight. — Chloe xx*

I stared at the note, the seventeen heavy sighs from the recording echoing in my mind once more.

So, he wasn't sighing because of insomnia.

He was sighing for another woman's sympathy.

I didn't tear the note. I placed it back exactly where I found it, right under the reports.

Then, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I had saved long ago.

"Mr. Sterling, it’s Audrey. Yes, you can start drafting the divorce agreement."

"As fast as possible."

Hanging up, I took a deep breath and quietly closed the study door behind me.