The mask slipped. The concerned husband vanished, replaced by the man who always defended her.
“She is trying to apologize, Karylle!” Nathan shouted, his face turning red. “She’s injured too! Look at her arm! Do you think she wanted this to happen? It was an accident. Stop acting like she murdered him in cold blood.”
“She might as well have,” I said, staring him dead in the eye. “And you put me in that car with her.”
Nathan yelled, throwing his hands up. “God, you are being so unreasonable. You’re hysterical. I get that you’re grieving, but don’t take it out on Danica. She’s family, and who knows there’d be an accident. She’d been driving drunk even before—”
“Family?” I let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Is that what we’re calling it now?”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Nathan narrowed his eyes. “You know what? I’m not doing this right now. You’re emotional. You need to rest. We’ll talk when you’re not acting crazy.”
He turned to Danica, his voice softening instantly. “Come on, Danica. Let’s go get some coffee. She just needs to cool down.”
He placed a protective hand on the small of her back. The same hand that used to hold mine.
Something inside me snapped. The last thread of my restraint severed.
“Nathan,” I called out.
He stopped at the door, looking back over his shoulder with an annoyed expression. “What now, Karylle?”
I sat up, ignoring the pain in my abdomen. I looked at him, then at her, and felt absolutely nothing but clarity.
“I want a divorce.”
“I want a divorce.”
He froze. His hand, which had been hovering near Danica’s back, dropped to his side. For a second, the silence was absolute. Even Danica stopped her performative sobbing, her eyes widening as she looked between us.
“You’re… you’re kidding me, right?” Nathan stammered, a nervous laugh bubbling up from his throat. “Karylle, stop it. That’s not funny.”
“Does it look like I’m laughing?” I asked.
Fear flickered in his gaze. It wasn’t the fear of losing me—I knew that now. It was the fear of the scandal. The fear of the prenup. The fear of his grandfather.
“You can’t just divorce me,” he said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. He took a step toward the bed, looming over me. “Do you have any idea what you’re saying? We’re the golden couple. The merger depends on us. My grandfather…” He raked a hand through his hair. “Grandpa would have a stroke. He wouldn’t accept it.”