I Left Him after He Chose The Sister-in-law

Leonidas Lopez kissed her lips, his voice rough and gravelly. “All this fuss just for this, huh?”

Clementine Stephens froze. It felt like someone had just punched a clean hole right through her chest. The bitter tang flooded her mouth—she couldn’t tell if it was from his kiss or her own heart breaking. All those nights she’d once thought were sweet with giddy uncertainty, that cedar scent she’d been hopelessly hooked on? They’d just been laced with his biting sarcasm all along.

Clementine stared at the shifting splotches of light crawling across the ceiling and murmured, “Yeah. It’s all just a stupid game between men and women.”

“Turn off the lights. Cut to the chase.”

Turning off the lights had always been Clementine’s rule. Leonidas didn’t love her— the most obvious proof was right in his eyes. Even in their most intimate moments, when he was at his gentlest, those eyes never held a single spark of warmth. He’d always gone along with it before… or maybe he just hadn’t cared enough to argue. But tonight, he was different. The second “turn off the lights” left her mouth, he seemed to snap. He drove her collarbone hard into the mattress, growling, “Why? You need me blindfolded? Do my eyes ruin your little fantasies?”

Leonidas’ eyes were stormy, churning with unreadable emotions she couldn’t begin to parse. Maybe it was the embarrassment from the gala that had him this fired up. But he was right about one thing. If his eyes hadn’t always been so cold, so indifferent, she could’ve lied to herself and believed he still cared… just a little.

“Yeah,” Clementine challenged, lifting her chin and raising an eyebrow. A sharp, stabbing pain jolted through her core the second the words left her mouth.

Exhausted, Clementine fell into a deep sleep while Leonidas slipped out to the study for a cigarette. His assistant, Uriel Scott, called. “Mr. Lopez, the gala footage is deleted. It won’t leak. And as for Mrs. Lopez, the baby’s stabilized now.”

Leonidas only grunted, “Hmm,” voice completely flat.

Uriel hesitated for a beat before pressing on, “Mr. Lopez, she said she’s still in a lot of pain. Are you going to go see her?”

Leonidas’ tone turned ice-cold. “Am I a fucking painkiller? Will her pain just stop if I show up?”

Uriel stiffened. “Understood.”

When the call ended, Leonidas stubbed out his cigarette and headed back to the master bedroom. Clementine was sleeping peacefully, faint moonlight spilling through the window and gilding her face. She was curled up on her side, long lashes fanned out across her cheeks just like a beloved fairytale princess. By day, that princess was all sharp edges and rebellion. But asleep, she was so much softer, so much sweeter and docile. Leonidas stepped closer to the bed— maybe the night was just too soft, too enchanting. All the hard, bitter resentment in his chest melted away. For the first time ever, he actually wanted to climb into bed beside her.

And then he heard her mumble, “This time… I really don’t want you anymore, …”

Her voice thickened with quiet sorrow, and she sniffled softly in her sleep.

Leonidas’ gaze snapped cold. His leg froze mid-climb into the bed.

The next morning, Clementine woke to cold sheets beside her. Her lashes fluttered open, and a flash of bitter mockery flickered in her eyes. Just as she expected— he’d left again. The last tiny scrap of her fantasy was well and truly shattered. After getting washed up, she grabbed the divorce papers and headed downstairs.

Leonidas was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping his black coffee. Morning light flooded through the floor-to-ceiling windows, gilding his silhouette in that same dignified, cold elegance he always carried, like last night’s madness had never happened. Clementine pushed the papers across the table toward him, slow and steady. “Sign it.”

The black coffee swirled faintly in its porcelain cup. Leonidas’ expression darkened, something like resignation weighing on his features. “Wasn’t I enough for you last night?”

His cold, mocking words from the night before crashed through her mind all over again, chilling her to the bone. “Leonidas, I don’t want this anymore. I really don’t.”

He set his coffee cup down hard, the porcelain clattering loud against the table, his eyes glacial. “Clementine, even your nonsense has a limit.”

“A limit?” Clementine arched an eyebrow. “I don’t know what that word means. If you can’t stand me, just get the hell out already.”

The roar of an idling engine drifted in from the driveway. Leonidas bit down on his anger and stood up. “I’m going on a business trip. I’ll bring you back a gift.”

This was just one of his little “appeasement” tricks. Now, it didn’t move her at all. “Give it to your sister-in-law.”

Leonidas’ grip on his suitcase handle tightened so hard his knuckles went white.

Silence hung thick in the room. He walked out of the villa without a single word. Clementine felt completely drained, but she remembered he’d be gone for months, possibly. She grabbed the divorce agreement and hurried after him right away.

The spring wind out in the country was brutal. The second she pulled open the front door, the papers caught the gust, spinning apart and scattering across the drive, out of her reach.

“Ugh, perfect!” She huffed, cheeks puffing out in frustration at her own carelessness.

Leonidas watched from the car, his gaze darkening, before he pushed open his door and stepped out.

In the crisp, chilly spring air, Leonidas pulled her into a warm, cedar-scented embrace. “A farewell hug,” he said, voice softer than she’d ever heard it.

Clementine froze. The “farewell hug” was her rule— one she’d made for him years ago, demanding one every time he left for work or a trip. Once, it would’ve made her heart soar. Now? It didn’t even stir her. It just made her skin itch.

It felt like being dragged back to humiliate her old, desperate self all over again. Just as she started to squirm away, he let her go.

Clementine’s lips curled into a faint, mocking smirk. See? It was just routine for him. And she’d always been the idiot who got too emotional, like a puppy tasting honey for the first time.

She’d made up her mind: she’d never mourn the soft, doormat version of herself ever again. She watched him get in his car and drive away.

“Leonidas, goodbye!”

She yelled it after the retreating car, just as the Bentley’s windshield crumpled one of the scattered divorce pages against the glass. Inside the car, as Clementine’s silhouette shrank to a tiny black dot in the rearview mirror, Leonidas loosened his tie. For some reason he couldn’t name, something felt different about her this time. He just couldn’t put his finger on what, not yet.