Every time before, I'd forgiven her. Swallowed my pride for the sake of the alliance between our families. She believed—knew—I'd never actually go through with it.
She was wrong.
"Don't worry." I met her gaze without flinching. "I won't change my mind."
I turned and walked out without looking back.
I didn't go home.
I booked a hotel room for a month instead—long enough to wait out the mandatory cooling-off period.
In the days that followed, Rosemary didn't send a single message.
Word reached me through the grapevine: Frederick had mentioned wanting to learn to ski in Switzerland. Rosemary happened to own an estate there, so she'd whisked him away.
Louis Sullivan's voice crackled through the phone, seething with disbelief.
"What the actual hell is she thinking?"
"Everyone knows that estate was built for you. After she confessed her feelings, she had it constructed specifically to give you a belated honeymoon. It's only ever been open to you."
"And now she's taking her father's bastard there?" He let out a sharp, incredulous breath. "Is she at it again? Old habits die hard—is she cheating on you with him now?"
I sat by the floor-to-ceiling window of my hotel room, staring at the divorce papers spread across the table.
I didn't know what to say.
These papers—Rosemary had drafted them herself. The last time I'd caught her cheating.
Back then, the humiliation had been suffocating. I'd called Louis and dragged him to a nightclub, determined to drink myself numb until dawn.
Rosemary had found out somehow.
She'd stormed in with an entourage, trashed the place, and beaten every woman who'd so much as glanced in my direction.
She grabbed my collar with a vicious grip.
"Roland, you're ruthless."
"Fine. I admit it—I fell in love with you. I can't stand the thought of another woman near you. Happy now?"
Then came that livestream confession that broke the internet.
Rosemary swore she'd changed. No more games. She'd be a devoted wife.
And for a while, we did have something sweet.
Just like Louis said, she went all in—learning my interests, anticipating my needs.
When she found out I loved skiing, she built me a private estate in Switzerland. Even named it after us—a blend of our names, a promise carved into the mountainside.
But now.
I stared at Frederick's latest social media post.
The estate's sign had been replaced.