Chapter 71
It was hard to believe that the word “divorce” had come from Calista’s mouth.
Ophelia’s, Astrid’s, and Galen’s gazes shifted toward Lucien, as if hoping he would give them the answer they were waiting for.
Lucien, heir to Fenwick Group, wasn’t someone anyone could push for answers if he didn’t want to speak.
But Ophelia could read between the lines. Lucien was still staring at the spot Calista had just stood in, after all.
“Lucien… do you think she really meant what she said?”
Everyone in that room had seen firsthand how deeply Calista had once loved Lucien.
Even when she brought up divorce, it felt like a calculated move–a dramatic ploy meant to manipulate him into doing her bidding.
Lucien’s expression stayed frigid and unreadable. He didn’t spare Ophelia even a glance as he said, “Mind your own business.”
With that, he turned and walked out, leaving the rest behind.
Ophelia stood alone, swallowing her frustration. She couldn’t lash out–not with her manners or the image she was always expected to uphold.
Astrid moved in, offering a gentle pat on the arm. “Elia, get some rest. I’ll take care of Calista.”
Ophelia didn’t say much after that. Her mind was still on Lucien, who had already left the hospital room.
Meanwhile, Astrid pulled Galen into the hallway, making sure Ophelia wouldn’t overhear them.
Standing in front of him, she wore a practiced smile. “Thank you, Mr. Hawthorne.”
Without waiting for a response, she reached into her handbag and handed him a check. The amount was far too generous to be casual.
Galen tried to protest, but Astrid was far too quick. She stuffed the check into the inner pocket of his suit.
“Please, Mrs. Marchand. I was only doing my job.”
Galen looked as if he wanted to explain more, but Astrid’s bright, knowing smile shut him down
before he could.
this moment, she couldn’t even muster tears.
“Honestly, I think I’m being generous by not calling you a heartless bastard without a shred of loyalty.”
With one indifferent sentence, Calista severed whatever was left between them–cleanly, with finality, and without ceremony.
Lucien’s expression shifted. It was as if a storm had swept through him, cold and sharp, leaving the air around him frozen and still.
“Whatever happened with Ophelia, I’ll treat it like it never existed. And the word ‘divorce‘ can only ever come from me. I don’t like-”
Lucien, a man who rarely spoke more than necessary, suddenly had so much to say.
But Calista was no longer the woman who would be moved by his gestures, let alone feel grateful for his rare display of generosity.
“Right. Everything has to be on your terms, and I’m just supposed to go along with it. Lucien, that superiority complex of yours is absolutely disgusting.”
Without even a flicker of emotion, she said the cruelest thing she could–and meant every word of it.
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