After Divorcing My Phoenix Male Husband, He Fell from His High Branch

I looked up to see Emma, Jason's boss, whom he always tries to impress.

Catching sight of her, Jason quickly dabbed at his shirt with a napkin and stood to offer her his seat.

"Ms. Reed, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Emma barely acknowledged him, her chin raised as she flashed me a condescending smile. "Heard Jason's been skipping work to play nursemaid. I just had to see the woman who's so worth his time."

I was a mess from the night's ordeal—pale, disheveled.

In stark contrast, Emma, perfectly made-up, eyed me up and down before scoffing, "Really? He's into this?"

Annoyed, I grabbed the bowl of soup and dumped it into the trash can by her feet, splattering her with the greasy broth. Her scream was piercing.

Jason, mortified, blurted out, "She's pregnant, Ms. Reed. She doesn't hold a candle to you. Please, overlook this..."

Watching the drama unfold, I chimed in, amused, "Good timing. Jason and I are heading for splitsville. Ms. Reed, if you're so inclined, you might find him in the trash—where he belongs."

Jason glared at me, then turned back to Emma with a desperate attempt to smooth things over. "She's kidding, Ms. Reed. Please don't take it to heart..."

"The divorce papers are on your desk," I added calmly.

"Olivia!" Jason exclaimed, his eyes reddening with anger.

Emma chuckled dismissively, "Only the incompetent make divorce their mantra."

She sashayed out, carelessly tossing back, "Jason, be at the meeting in thirty minutes. Don't be late, or else."

Jason hastily grabbed his coat, gave my hand a squeeze, and whispered softly, "Hang tight, I'll swing by later."

I had to stay in the hospital for a few days for monitoring.

During that time, Jason was a no-show—no visits, not even a call.

I wasn't surprised; I didn't expect anything different. I didn't try to reach out to him either.

But what did surprise me was his "urgent business"—turns out, it was all play.

On my discharge day, I stumbled upon Emma's post about their team-building trip to Miami. There they were in the photos, Jason and Emma, hands linked, all smiles on the beach.

My comment was frosty: [Enjoying your honeymoon? Maybe Jason can sign those divorce papers in between sunbathing sessions.]

After posting, my heart just sank. There I was, a pregnant wife in the hospital, and there he was, frolicking on the beach with his boss.

Jason called soon after.

I hit "decline" without a second thought and asked my doctor about ending the pregnancy.

Post-procedure, I finally returned Jason's barrage of missed calls.

"You got it all wrong, Olivia! It was just a company retreat—those photos were just for show! Emma's nothing but my boss."

His excuses fell on deaf ears.

My heart was a waveless lake as I said, "Even if Emma were your mother, it wouldn't make a difference to me now."

"I called to tell you, I've terminated the pregnancy. If you don't sign the papers, we'll settle this in court."

From a distance, Lucas watched, his expression one of concern. When he saw me hang up, he hurried over, a Cartoon character lunchbox in hand.

"Got you some soup and Mashed Sweet Potatoes. Eat up; you need to regain your strength after the surgery."

"Lucas, why the gloves in this heat?" I queried, reaching to pull them off. Revealed were his fingers, adorned with Band-Aids.

He blushed, a sheepish grin on his face. "Turns out I'm better with keyboards than kitchen knives. Promise the beef's thoroughly cooked, though!"

I was taken aback, fingers trembling slightly as I accepted the lunchbox.

It was a long-forgotten feeling, being cared for like this.

Lucas, with all his wealth, was an unlikely friend for someone from my humble beginnings.

We became desk mates in high school after I topped the county exams—a stark contrast to his paid entry.

We pushed each other through those years, both performing well on our finals.

But I know all of that wouldn't last given the gap caused by our utterly different backgrounds, so I turned down his attempted confession.

After high school, our paths diverged—I headed to an Ivy League school, where I met Jason.

He went abroad, and we didn't cross paths again until my wedding to Jason.

Reflecting on it all, I couldn't help but smirk at the irony.

"Lucas, know any sharp divorce lawyers?"

His face lit up briefly before he played it cool. "Yeah, got a friend in need?"

"No, it's for me. Looks like Jason isn't going to make this easy, so I need to be prepared."

A smile flickered across Lucas' face, though he tried to hide it. "I know just the one—a top-notch attorney. I'll send you her info."

"Thanks, Lucas."

That evening, back at my apartment, I sat down to gather the paperwork for the divorce.

Suddenly, Jason's arms enveloped me from behind, his breath hot against my neck.

"Olivia, yell at me, hit me, but why take it out on our baby?"

He kissed me fiercely, holding on despite my attempts to push him away.

Nauseated, I grabbed his hair and threw him to the ground.

Jason looked up from the floor, his eyes wide and hurt.

"You used to calm down with just a kiss. You've never lashed out like this before."

"I've been wrapped up at work, I know I've neglected you. It's my fault. What if I give you my whole paycheck? Just don't stay mad."

As he finished, my phone chimed—a transfer notification.

Before, when I'd question his priorities, he'd send money as a tearful demonstration of his loyalty.

Each time, I'd feel like the sensitive one, regretting my suspicions, so I never accepted the money.

Turns out, it was just his constant manipulation.

This time, I tapped "accept" without hesitation.

Jason stared at his phone screen, unable to believe his eyes. I could almost hear his heart-shattering.

"Olivia... you... I..."

Shaking my head, I scoffed inside. "Making a miser crack is as easy as pie."

"Why don't you marry your money, Jason? Leave me out of it."

I pushed him out of the room and locked the door behind me.

"I've lined up a divorce lawyer. It's your move now."

Jason was seething outside, "Do you have any idea how popular I am? There's a line of women waiting for me to be single. You're going to drag this to court over a triviality?"

"If it weren't for my duty to you, I'd have married Emma by now—I could have cut ten years off my struggle!"

With that, he slammed the door and stormed off.

Laughable, really. After years in the game, Jason still couldn't tell whether Emma loved him or just found him cheaply useful.

But this gave me an idea. Perhaps Emma could be the key to unlocking my divorce.

For the next few days, Jason kept up his act, darting out early and returning late, dodging any interaction with me.

He's always been calculative, only ever making concessions when his back's against the wall.

Tonight, Emma was dragging him along to a business mixer aimed at drumming up support for a new project.

At the karaoke lounge, Jason flitted from one big shot to another, glass in hand, plastering on a grin. He leaned towards Emma and muttered,

"Ms. Reed, wasn't some high-roller supposed to show up? It's been an hour—I'm nearly spent from all this booze..."

"Ease up on the drinks. We're here for him," she advised.

Just then, a familiar voice called out from the entrance, "Apologies for the wait."

Jason turned stone-cold, a look of utter shock crossing his face. "Lucas Cole?!"

Emma promptly rose to greet him, all smiles, "Mr. Cole, I've heard about your swift investments since returning stateside—truly visionary."

Lucas glanced at her, an intrigued smirk playing on his lips. "Ah, so you're the renowned Ms. Reed from Aspire Enterprises, nearly public. Pity, really."

Emma's smile wavered. "I'm not sure I follow, Mr. Cole."

"Seems like you're out of the loop then. Surprising you've got the gall to socialize," Lucas quipped, relaxing into the soft sofa, wine glass in hand.

Suddenly, another suited man burst out,

"Everyone, check your emails now! It's big news!"

Curious, Jason and Emma whipped out their phones and were immediately greeted by an inbox notification.

Opening the email sent shivers down Jason's spine while Emma seemed to collapse in her chair.