After My Groom Kissed the Bridesmaid, I Was Done with Him

The crystal chandelier cast fractured light across the mahogany dining table, its brilliance as cold as the silence that had settled over our family dinner. I set down my wine glass with deliberate precision, the soft clink against the china plate seeming to echo in the cavernous dining room of the Rose mansion.

"I want a divorce."

The words hung in the air like smoke from an extinguished candle. Trenton's fork froze halfway to his mouth, a piece of prime rib dangling from the silver tines. Across from me, Jordan's head snapped up from his phone, his dark eyes—so much like his father's—wide with shock.

Cataleya, seated beside Trenton in what should have been my mother-in-law's chair, had the audacity to look surprised, though I caught the flicker of satisfaction that crossed her perfectly sculpted features before she composed herself.

"Ella." Trenton's voice carried that familiar tone of condescension, the one he used when he thought I was being dramatic. "Don't be ridiculous. We can discuss whatever's bothering you after dinner."

I smoothed my napkin across my lap, buying myself a moment to steady my breathing. Nine years of marriage had taught me to recognize that dismissive edge in his voice, the way he reduced my feelings to mere inconveniences.

"There's nothing to discuss," I said, meeting his gaze directly. "I've already contacted Marcus Chen. The papers will be ready by tomorrow."

Trenton's face darkened, his jaw clenching in that way that once made my heart race with fear. Now it only strengthened my resolve. "Marcus Chen? You hired that shark without even talking to me first?"

"The same way you brought her back into our lives without talking to me first?" I gestured toward Cataleya, who had the grace to look down at her plate, though her lips curved in the slightest smile.

Jordan slammed his hand on the table, making the crystal glasses sing. "Mom, what the hell is wrong with you? You're ruining everything!"

The venom in my seventeen-year-old son's voice cut deeper than any of Trenton's accusations ever could. I watched him push back from the table, his chair scraping against the marble floor with a sound like nails on a chalkboard.

"Jordan," I began, but he cut me off with a laugh that held no warmth.

"You know what? I'm glad you're finally showing your true colors." His words came out in a rush, as if he'd been holding them back for months. "Cataleya was right about you. You've been waiting for this moment, haven't you? Waiting to cash in?"

I felt the blood drain from my face. "Cash in?"

Trenton leaned back in his chair, his expression shifting to something uglier than anger—smug satisfaction. "Very convenient timing, Ella. Just one year before you'd be eligible for five percent of Rose Corporation shares. Fifty million dollars, give or take."

The accusation hit me like a physical blow. I gripped the edge of the table, my knuckles white against the dark wood. "You think this is