Chapter 9
643words
"Six months? Is the baby moving?"
Even during our business war, he'd sent nutritional supplements through his assistant, persisting cheerfully though they went straight to the trash.
Lane smiled bitterly.
"I thought you'd get rid of this one too."
I rested my hand on my belly and smiled calmly.
"She's my child. Why wouldn't I want her?"
"Let's talk business."
I proposed an acquisition plan.
"This way is easier for me, and you still get cash."
"If you drag this out, you'll lose everything."
"Or I can demand asset division now, since my company shares equal yours."
"Either way, you lose."
He rubbed his face and, to my surprise, said:
"The company is yours. All my shares too."
Seeing my confusion, he laughed hollowly.
"I went back to our high school recently."
"I wanted to see your school records because I couldn't remember what you looked like back then."
"Instead, I found my own records."
His lips turned down like a wounded child's.
"I learned my father had deliberately removed his name from my records to please his mistress. It said I was raised by a single mother."
Lane lowered his head. Tears fell as he choked out:
"I'm sorry, Ashley. I've been blaming you from the start for no reason!"
"The love you gave me was always pure and honest."
"I'm the one who ruined everything."
Looking at the broken man before me, I was briefly speechless. Then I nodded.
"Fine. We'll do it your way."
No need to refuse—I could get everything with or without his cooperation.
I quickly signed the equity transfer documents, but he refused to sign the divorce papers.
"Can I court you again, Ashley?"
"Let's start over. Please give me one more chance."
I looked at his pleading eyes and nodded.
"Fine. But we'll revisit this when you want to leave again."
Lane was overjoyed, but he soon realized things weren't as he expected.
He spent hours making nutritious soup, then brought it to my office only to find my new male assistant perched on my desk, cooling soup for me.
"I made this just for you, Ms. Joseph. Careful, it's hot."
Lane was livid.
"You bastard! How dare you touch my wife!"
He swung wildly but was easily restrained by my younger, stronger assistant.
My assistant looked at him with contempt.
"What's wrong with taking care of my boss, old man?"
"Besides, everyone knows what you did to her. The internet never forgets!"
"Do you have an appointment? Ms. Joseph is very busy!"
Lane looked at me in shock. I returned his gaze with obvious irritation.
"I'm working. Can you stop being so controlling?"
Lane was still in shock after security "politely" escorted him out.
He realized that the things he'd done to me felt very different when they happened to him.
"Are you trying to make me give up, Ashley?"
"That's never going to happen!"
As I reorganized the company, I grew increasingly busy—even busier than Lane had been.
Lane called me.
"We're not divorced! You need to come home!"
But when I did come home—always near midnight—Lane would jolt awake on the sofa, rush to help with my coat, and excitedly try to show me the nursery he'd decorated.
"I put everything together myself..."
I'd brush him off tiredly.
"The housekeeper can handle that. I'm exhausted and going to bed."
He'd go days without seeing me, getting updates only through my assistant or social media.
He saw photos of me dazzling at business dinners, surrounded by attentive men. He smelled unfamiliar cologne in our car, found anonymous flowers delivered to our home, discovered business cards from men in my pockets—all the things he'd once done now driving him crazy.
Finally, he snapped over a suggestive paparazzi photo.
