Ex-Husband's Late Realization

I spent a month on a luxury cruise, partying with eight European male models. When my friend Ainsley heard about it, she gasped, “Are you out of your mind? Aren’t you worried your general husband might go ballistic?”

As I continued to play the role of a nurse, checking the models’ vitals, I shrugged and said, “What’s there to fear? We’re already divorced.”

“What did you say?” Ainsley asked, unable to believe her ears.

Suddenly, an eerie silence enveloped us, and everyone’s gaze shifted to something behind me. My instincts kicked in, prompting me to turn around.

Hundreds of armed helicopters descended from the sky, surrounding the hotel. Special forces quickly seized control of the area. Amidst the blinding spotlights, a man in an olive-green military uniform stepped forward, his eyes coldly assessing the male models around me.

It was my ex-husband, Alexander Vargas—the youngest brigadier general in the South Pacific Command, renowned for his workaholic tendencies. During our five-year marriage, he missed my birthdays for military drills, was absent during my serious car accident due to a joint operation abroad, and was unreachable when my father lay critically ill because he was on a covert mission.

Although I had accepted the demands of his career, a rumor within the base soon shook my resolve. It said that the stern and aloof General Vargas was secretly doting on a young woman.

At first, I dismissed it as mere gossip. But curiosity got the better of me, and I spent all my contacts and savings to discreetly investigate her. Yet Alexander shielded her so well that even my old intelligence team friends could only manage to capture a vague snapshot of her profile.

The girl in the photo appeared youthful and charming, nestled securely in Alexander’s embrace—a gesture I had never experienced in five years of marriage.

The day I received the photo, I stepped out as dusk settled in, plagued by unease. As soon as I crossed the base boundary, several figures jumped out, shoved a sack over my head, and unleashed a flurry of punches and kicks. I curled up on the ground, protecting my vital areas in vain.

In the chaos, someone struck my head, and a loud ringing overwhelmed my senses before darkness claimed me.

When I regained consciousness, I found myself in the military hospital. Sam Taylor, Alexander’s aide, stood beside me, his expression unreadable. “Ma’am,” he said coolly, “The general asked me to tell you to stop investigating matters best left alone. Otherwise, next time you might not wake up in a hospital.”

My eyes widened in shock. Just because I had uncovered a side profile of the girl, Alexander had arranged an assault on me!

My heart ached, as though drenched in ice water. After a long pause, I reached for my phone and dialed a number. “Chief Collins, I want to apply for a divorce.”

Holding the divorce papers, I marched straight to Alexander’s office but was stopped at the door by a