Divorce After His Cruel Betrayal

The morning light filtered through the tall windows of Nathan's study, casting long shadows across the polished mahogany floors. I stood in the doorway, my hand frozen on the handle, unable to process the scene before me. Nathan sat rigid behind his desk, his face contorted with a fury I'd never seen before. Beside him, Isabella stood with perfect posture, her manicured hand resting on his shoulder in a gesture of possessive comfort.

"Play it again," Nathan commanded, his voice low and dangerous.

Isabella's crimson lips curved into a smile that didn't reach her eyes as she tapped the laptop screen. I watched in horror as my own face appeared, the expressions and movements so realistic that for a moment, I questioned my own memory.

"I don't care about your precious baby," my digital doppelgänger sneered, eyes cold with malice. "Nathan never wanted a child with me, what makes you think he wants one with you? You're nothing but a desperate placeholder."

My blood ran cold. The video continued, showing 'me' threatening Isabella, mocking her pregnancy—a pregnancy I hadn't even known about. The words were vicious, calculated, delivered with a cruelty I couldn't recognize in myself.

"Nathan, that's not—" I began, my voice barely audible.

"Silence!" He slammed his fist on the desk, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot. He rose slowly, his six-foot-three frame towering over me as he approached. "I've seen enough."

"Please, you have to believe me. I never said those things," I pleaded, backing away instinctively. "That video isn't real—"

"I can see it with my own eyes, Elara." My name sounded like a curse on his lips. His fingers closed around my wrist with bruising force. "You've always been jealous of what Isabella and I share. Always trying to come between us."

Isabella dabbed at non-existent tears, her performance flawless. "I didn't want to show him, Elara. I tried to protect you, but... the baby..."

"What baby?" I whispered, confusion momentarily overshadowing my fear. "Isabella, what are you talking about?"

Something dangerous flashed in Nathan's eyes. Without warning, he began dragging me through the penthouse, his grip unyielding despite my struggles.

"Nathan, stop! You're hurting me!" My bare feet slipped on the marble floors as I tried to resist. "Whatever she told you, it's a lie!"

He didn't slow, didn't speak, didn't even look at me. When we reached the glass doors of the greenhouse at the far end of our penthouse, understanding dawned with horrifying clarity.

"No," I gasped, digging my heels into the floor. "Nathan, you know I can't—my allergies—please!"

The greenhouse was filled with exotic flowering plants, a collection he'd insisted on despite knowing about my severe allergies. I'd avoided this room for years, the few accidental exposures having sent me to the hospital.

"Perhaps some time to reflect on your cruelty will teach you respect," he said coldly, shoving me inside with such force that I stumbled to my knees.

The door locked with a definitive click. Through