Kneel, Darling, Your Trophy Wife Is Gone Chapter 03
After leaving the hospital, I went straight to a café.
I slid the divorce papers across the table toward Damien Santoro.
“Mr. Santoro, if you can get me legally divorced, name your price.”
No attorney in New York dared touch my case. Or more accurately, no one dared go against Ethan Moretti.
So this was my only option.
To gamble on a man like Damien Santoro—a man who’d spent half his life walking the line between law and crime.
Damien lifted his eyes to me slowly, the corner of his mouth curling into something half-amused.
“I don’t do charity work,” he said lazily. “What exactly can you offer me?”
“If you help me, I’ll give you anything you want.”
His smile deepened.
Leaning forward slightly, he placed his hand over mine with deliberate slowness.
“Anything?” he asked softly. “Including you?”
I calmly pulled my hand away.
“Send me the hotel address. I’ll be there on time.”
The air went still for a second.
Damien stared at me, then suddenly laughed under his breath, sounding both entertained and vaguely disappointed.
Finally, he leaned back and withdrew his hand.
“Forget it,” he said casually. “Married women aren’t really my type.”
Then his gaze shifted toward the ring on my finger.
“That ring, though? Now that’s interesting.”
I instinctively looked down.
Ethan had given it to me himself—a flawless ten-carat pink diamond, obscenely expensive and beautiful enough to look eternal.
I still remembered the day he slid it onto my finger.
“You belong to me for the rest of your life.”
“Stay by my side forever.”
Back then, I thought it was a promise.
Now I understood what it really was. Ownership dressed up as love.
Without hesitation, I slipped the ring off and placed it in Damien’s palm.
“Will half a month be enough?”
Damien accepted the ring and turned it lazily between his fingers like he was evaluating merchandise.
“Half a month?” He chuckled. “That’s way too long for something this valuable.”
Then he looked up at me.
“One week. I’ll have the finalized divorce decree delivered to you personally.”
I nodded once.
“Thank you.”
The moment those words left my mouth, something inside my chest loosened slightly.
Not relief.
More like the strange sensation of finally beginning to fall.
After leaving the café, I returned to the estate. The second I walked through the door, my phone lit up.
A video from Hazel.
In the footage, Ethan was kneeling on one knee, carefully slipping a ring onto her finger.
I didn’t recognize the ring.
But I understood exactly what it meant. It was the same kind of ring he’d once given me.
His voice was soft—almost indulgent.
“Sorry about this morning.”
He kissed her hand lightly.
“Wear this for me and behave.” He smiled faintly. “I’ll give you your place beside me, alright?”
The video ended.
I didn’t watch it twice. I simply locked my phone.
So that was it.
I had just traded the ring Ethan gave me for freedom. And he was just using another ring to comfort another woman.
To him, rings were never symbols of marriage.
Just cheap tools he used to distribute affection whenever he felt like it.
Funny, in a pathetic kind of way.
But convenient too.
I tossed my phone onto the table, took a shower, and went to bed. The moment I lay down, the bedroom door opened.
A familiar scent settled over me, carrying traces of soap and steam from his shower.
Ethan climbed into bed and pulled me straight into his arms.
“Why didn’t you wait for me?” he murmured against my ear, his tone carrying that familiar intimate dissatisfaction. “Hm?”
I forced myself to relax and looked up at him with a faint smile.
“I was tired.”
His gaze dropped to my left hand. The next second, his eyes darkened slightly.
“Where’s your ring?”
The atmosphere instantly tightened.
My heartbeat skipped once, but I kept smiling.
“I threw it away.”
I looked directly at him.
“Ethan, you can’t expect to cheat on me openly and still forbid me from getting upset.”
I picked up my phone, opened Hazel’s video, and tossed it toward him.
After watching it, he let out a low laugh, completely unconcerned. No anger. No guilt. Not even an attempt to explain.
He leaned down, pressing kisses near my ear while his hand slid beneath my clothes, his familiar warmth making my stomach churn.
“So you’re jealous.”
His voice was lazy and gentle.
“I was only humoring her. Don’t take it seriously.”
The way he spoke sounded less like comforting a wife and more like soothing a spoiled pet throwing a tantrum.
I closed my eyes.
So he knew this hurt me. He knew exactly what he was doing. He simply didn’t care.
And in that moment, I didn’t even have the strength to resist anymore.
I just lay there silently and let him hold me.
Because I couldn’t let him notice.
Couldn’t let him realize—
I was already planning to leave him for good.
