After His Betrayal, My Husband Begged Not to Divorce

He froze.

It was the truth he would never admit—not even on his deathbed.

His face turned completely pale.

Without another word, he turned away and left.

He didn't look back.

After that night, I didn't contact Lyndon again.

And news of our divorce spread quickly.

The division of assets was massive, involving layers of interests and negotiations—it would take time.

While I spent my days partying and living as I pleased... Lyndon wasn't idle either.

Lyndon had helped Claire secure the solo violin performance at the next concert.

When a friend gave me a ticket, I paused all my other plans and attended in full splendor. Not for anything else, but to see just how far Lyndon would go for her.

Even though I had prepared myself, when I saw the hall adorned with a sea of blue and pink flowers, my breath hitched.

"I heard all these flowers were sent by Mr. Hicks to Ms. Burton."

"So romantic! Sword lily means unwavering devotion, paired with white plum's silent protection... this man is the pinnacle of romance!"

"But I thought he's already married... Could this be an affair?"

"His wife? Don't you know her? She's just a pretty face without elegance. She's a nouveau-riche girl who forced him into marriage with underhanded means—"

"Ms. Miranda, you're here too?"

I swept my gaze over the women, one by one.

"It's fine. You continue your chat."

Their faces flushed red, voices faltering.

"Ms. Miranda, don't misunderstand—what we said just now was hearsay..."

I smiled generously. "That's fine. What you hear isn't always the truth. As for whether my methods are up to standard, you'll find out soon enough."

Not waiting to see their pale expressions, I turned and walked away.

The concert proceeded smoothly.

I didn't cause a scene. But when Claire stood on stage, bow in hand, I couldn't tear my eyes away from Lyndon in the audience.

He sat perfectly upright, hair impeccably combed.

A delicate white rose pinned to his chest seemed to bloom in time with the music.

Even across the distance, the intensity in his gaze stung me.

I sat in the dark corner, almost masochistically confirming over and over—he had never loved me.

When the concert ended, Claire walked to him, clutching a bouquet.

"Lyndon, the piece I played... it's for you. Do you like it?"

He reached out, brushing her hair softly, his tone impossibly tender. "I do."

So that's it, I thought.

Wiping my tears, I rose—only to be caught suddenly in a warm embrace.

"Reina! Finally, I've got you!"