The Ex-Wife's Triumph novel Chapter 5

The moment Kingsley shook her off, it was as if every ounce of strength had been drained from Lucy's body.

Her heart had already shattered the instant she realized she was nothing more than a pawn in his revenge scheme.

For three whole years, Kingsley had played the role of the devoted, perfect husband.

The umbrella tilted her way in the rain, the sleepless nights guarding her bedside when she was ill... how could she not have fallen for him?

Somehow, she'd stepped in too deep, offering her heart to him completely and without thought. But now she saw that warmth for what it was—a carefully constructed lie.

It felt as though she had been shoved from the clouds into a bottomless abyss. From start to finish, she had been the only one in love.

Lucy's body trembled uncontrollably as she slid down the cold wall, tears blurring her vision before splashing onto the floor, leaving dark, spreading stains.

She dug her fingernails into her palms, using the sharp pain to tether herself to reality. Over and over, she told herself, "Lucy, you've lost everything. From today on, you have only yourself."

She wiped her face roughly, forcing back the fresh wave of hot tears.

With a decisive click, she shut the bedroom door, sealing out the world. She curled up under the cold duvet, shrinking into a ball as she let the darkness swallow her grief and humiliation.

***

"Who pays your salary?" Kingsley's expression darkened, menace threading through his words. "My orders need no commentary."

"Yes, sir," Shane answered quickly.

Kingsley tossed his phone onto the bar and downed the rest of his whiskey, the glass clinking sharply in the empty room. He went upstairs and reappeared minutes later, shirtless. His muscles were defined and taut under the lights, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist.

Wearing only swim trunks, he stood by the edge of the pool. After a brief warm-up, he dove in. He moved through the water with shark-like efficiency, tearing through the surface lap after lap, the water churning in his wake.

Only after half an hour did Kingsley drift to the pool's edge, closing eyes that were usually sharp as a hawk's, allowing the steam and exhaustion to briefly claim him.