After I Married the Femme Fatale, My Ex Cried

I silently bent down to pick up the scattered divorce papers.

Kimberly emerged from the ICU, her eyes were red and swollen.

“The baby's been saved,” she said.

Then she looked at me—with a gaze so unfamiliar, it sent a chill through me.

“Gavin, this time you really went too far.”

My hands trembled as I held out the divorce agreement.

“It’s over, Kimberly. Let’s end this.”

Her pupils contracted sharply as she squinted her eyes. “Are you sure?”

“I’m tired.” I fought back the sting in my eyes. “I don’t know what I’m capable of anymore...”

“Fine! Great!” she snapped. She snatched the agreement from my hand and scribbled her name down hard, slamming the pen to the floor.

“As you wish!”

When I went back to our former home, Aunt Mona rushed to greet me in a panic.

“Mr. Vasquez! You—what happened...?” Her voice faltered when she saw my swollen face and rain-drenched shirt.

I glanced around.

The piano I loved was gone. The wedding photos had vanished. Even the tea set I’d carefully collected over the years—disappeared without a trace.

Aunt Mona wrung her hands nervously. “President White... she was afraid the babies might get hurt. So she...”

Before she could finish her sentence, the door swung open suddenly.

Kimberly walked in with Angelo beside her.

Angelo blinked in surprise. “Mr. Vasquez? What brings you here?”

His tone was casual—almost territorial, like he was the one who lived here now.

I turned to Kimberly, my voice shaking. “Where are my things?”

She let out a cold laugh. “You’re divorcing me—what do you care?”

Angelo stepped forward, feigning concern as he grabbed my wrist. “Mr. Vasquez, President White only did this for the children’s safety...”

“Don’t touch me!” I snapped, jerking away from him.

He cried out, stumbling backward.

Kimberly caught him instinctively.

“Are you okay?” she asked anxiously, her arms steadying him.

I watched their closeness, and felt the invisible wall between us harden. Without another word, I turned to leave.

Even when she called my name, I didn’t look back.

I didn’t want them to see me in tears, looking like a wreck.

Outside, the rain was relentless, soaking through me to the bone.

I had no idea how far I walked, lost in the downpour, until a group of thugs cornered me in a dark alley.

“You’re Gavin Vazquez, right?”

The man with a scar sneered as he advanced. “Someone paid us good money to teach you a lesson. Rich boy like you’s got soft hands—boys, break all his limbs!”

A sense of panic engulfed me, and I instinctively dialed Kimberly’s number.

Her gentle voice floated through the receiver.

“Angelo, just sleep. I know your head hurts.”

“Kimberly! Help me—please—”

“I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

After saying that, the line went dead.

When I called again, the phone was already switched off.

The rainwater mixed with my tears, bitter and cold on my lips.

“No one’s coming for you,” Scarface jeered. “Be good and take your beating.”

I clenched my eyes shut.