"Lexi, look, I know you're still sulking. But you need to be reasonable. Yolanda is different from you. She's fragile. She can't live without me."
He took a breath, delivering his next words with sickening confidence.
"I came here because I need you to come back. I need you to take care of Yolanda during her postpartum confinement."
My blood ran cold.
"Don't worry," he added quickly, mistaking my silence for consideration. "Once Yolanda recovers, I'll give her a severance package. We'll take the child, raise it as our own, and send her abroad. She won't bother us again."
I stood with my back to him, my vision blurring with rage.
For a split second, I had foolishly thought he might have come to apologize. That he might have felt a shred of remorse.
I should have known better.
I spun around, my eyes burning.
"Alex Delgado, have you lost your mind? You expect me to serve your mistress during her confinement?"
The words barely left my lips before his palm connected with my cheek. The crack echoed through the room.
Blood flooded my mouth. My face burned like it had been branded.
He gripped my jaw, fingers digging in like iron pincers. His eyes held nothing—no warmth, no remorse. "Alex Whitney is not a mistress. Understand?"
He shoved me back. I staggered, lost my footing, and slammed into the sharp corner of the table. Pain shot up my spine.
He scoffed at my grimace.
"I thought you were tough. What's a little bump?" His voice dropped to ice. "You want a divorce? Not without my signature. You will never escape me."
He loomed over me. "Three days. Pack your things and go care for Alex Whitney. Refuse, and you won't like what happens next."
He stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Silence settled. In the quiet, a bitter truth crystallized. For years, I'd been the one to bow my head in every argument. I'd believed marriage meant compromise—that endurance would make it last.
I was wrong. My submission hadn't earned love. It had only emboldened him.
He ignored my feelings completely, treating me like a woman who threatened to leave but lacked the spine to follow through. The audacity—demanding I care for the woman who destroyed our marriage.
Even now, he refused to face reality, still spinning empty promises, still trying to manipulate me.
Disgusting. Greedy. Whoever wanted him could have him.
I didn't care if I left with nothing. I was divorcing him.