Isabelle lay sleepless, her face flushed. Julian, intoxicated after a business function, had been overly intimate with her several times during the night, using all their condoms in the process. Their final encounter, passionate but reckless, left Isabelle burdened with the consequences.
At 28, Julian was at the height of his career and his sexual desires. Despite their three-year marriage, he always took precautions against pregnancy. While Isabelle had never actively wanted children, a desire had bloomed in the past six months – a child with Julian's bloodline. He was undeniably handsome and skilled in bed, often whispering tender words that moved her. A year ago, her feelings had shifted from indifference to genuine love. However, outside the bedroom, his indifference remained constant.
"Remember the morning-after pill," Julian's cold voice broke her thoughts. "Pregnancy would be a problem." She mumbled a weak assent. It was her ovulation period, and a pregnancy conceived under the influence of alcohol was unacceptable. His words, however, stung deeply.
He disappeared into the bathroom. Only after he was gone did she shift her gaze. A phone call interrupted the silence. It was Julian's phone, displaying the name: "Seraphina."
Julian's secretary, Seraphina was known for her grace and charming Southern accent. Rumors suggested a relationship beyond professional; she had supposedly left a high-paying job in Steelhaven six years before working for Hawthorne Corporation and being near him.
A hand snatched the phone. "sera," Julian’s voice, warm and affectionate, pierced Isabelle's heart. He had never spoken to her with such tenderness.
"Julian, someone's harassing me at the Zero Club – please help!" Seraphina’s distressed voice followed. Julian didn't shield the call from Isabelle.
"I'll be right there. I'll send a friend. Lock the door. Have you called the police...?" He rushed to the closet, his demeanor grim.
Last month, while on location for an outdoor shoot in the northern suburbs, their car had been forced into a ditch to avoid a reckless oncoming truck. Though no one perished, all suffered injuries. Isabelle had sustained a severe leg wound, bleeding profusely. Panicked, she’d called Julian. He'd been entertaining guests at a lavish dinner party. Dismissing her cries of pain, he'd uttered, "If you can still call, you won't die," and hung up. Now, Seraphina's distress elicited an immediate, frantic response, a stark comparison that laid bare the depths of his true feelings.
As Julian left, still soothing Seraphina, Isabelle blocked the door. "You're drunk; you can't drive," she said.
"Jealous or worried?" He lifted her chin, a strange gleam in his eyes. "Worried," she said firmly, her gaze softening.
"Hypocrisy," he retorted coldly, dropping her chin and pulling her to the floor. He left, the door slamming shut, leaving her alone in the vast emptiness of their three-year marriage. A wave of bitterness consumed her.
Later, a phone call jolted her awake. It was her friend, Ava's voice, filled with excitement. "Bella, your husband assaulted someone at 'Zero Point' because of Seraphina! He smashed a beer bottle on the guy's head – now there is a ton of blood everywhere"
Isabelle managed a calm "Oh." Given Julian's behavior, it wasn't surprising. It was almost... predictable
"A drunk man cornered Seraphina in the bathroom… her chest was bitten; her clothes ripped!" Ava continued, recounting the incident.
Isabelle stopped listening. The news had already spread online. Articles painted Julian as a romantic hero, defending his lover. The more Isabelle read, the angrier she became.
Three years of marriage, hidden affairs, and Seraphina’s blatant provocations fueled her anger. It was over.
At 5:30 AM, she heard the study door open. Taking a deep breath, she knocked. No answer. After several knocks, she entered.
"Who let you in?" Julian frowned. His voice was sharp and displeasure was evident all over his face.
Her hands trembled as she met his cold, appraising gaze. "Let's get a divorce," she said, her voice barely stronger than a whisper.
