My Husband Abandoned Me for Another Woman

Meanwhile, at the Cole family villa.

Adrian staggered in, dragging Vanessa behind him. The stench of alcohol clung to him, thick with violence and despair. He threw himself onto the leather sofa in the courtyard, knocking several bottles to the floor with a hollow clatter.

Vanessa hovered close, her voice syrupy with false comfort.

“Adrian, don’t be angry. She’s not worth it. From now on, I’ll stay by your side. I promise I’ll be a thousand times more interesting than that wooden woman…”

She leaned against him, fingers tracing lazy circles across his chest, coaxing, wheedling.

“Get out.”

The words were like a whip. Adrian shoved her away, his bloodshot eyes hollow, unfocused—not on her, but on the echo in his skull.

We’re over.

Clara’s calm, distant gaze replayed endlessly in his mind. That coldness, that finality—it was unbearable. She should have been weeping, begging, broken. Not walking away. Not cutting him off.

His chest heaved, alcohol fanning the flames of his paranoia. He paced like a caged beast, smashing his phone to the tiles.

“Hello? Hello! Clara! Clara!”

Only the cold, mechanical tone answered him. He redialed again and again, frantic, but the same merciless voice repeated: The number you dialed is powered off.

She had cut him off completely.

A chill spread through him, quickly boiling into fury. He barked, “Butler! Bring Snowball here!”

The trembling old man wrung his hands. “Sir… Snowball… Snowball seems to be missing…”

Adrian froze. “Gone?”

The unease lodged in his gut twisted into dread. He fumbled with his phone, trying to video call Clara—but the attempt failed instantly. Blocked. Again.

His roar tore through the villa.

“Clara! You’re still my wife. Even if you die, you’ll be the ghost of the Cole family! Where did you take Snowball? Return it to me immediately, or else—”

Before he could finish, the butler rushed back, face drained of blood, clutching a thick courier envelope.

“Sir… these just arrived. From the court. From the law firm…”

Adrian ripped it open with shaking hands. Paper slid out, crisp and merciless.

The divorce agreement. Official. Executed. Stamped in bold red seal.

His eyes locked on the clause—

The man voluntarily leaves the house.

The words stabbed into him, clearer than a knife.

“No… impossible… she wouldn’t… she couldn’t…” He muttered like a man possessed, his fingers trembling so hard the pages shook. His chest surged, breath caught—

“Pffft—”

A mouthful of dark blood sprayed across the papers, staining the black and white with grotesque red.

The room spun. His body convulsed once, then crumpled backward onto the floor.

Unconscious.

The documents, now flecked with blood, lay beside him—silent, undeniable proof that Clara was gone from him forever.