She Brought Her Lover Home, I Chose Divorce

The grievance on Claire Miller’s face vanished instantly, replaced by frustration and irritation.

“Ethan Brooks, I’ve already apologized—what more do you want?”

“I only treat Ryan like a younger brother. To get divorced over such a ridiculous misunderstanding? If this spreads, the Miller Group will become a laughingstock.”

“Misunderstanding?” I sneered.

I yanked a pair of men’s briefs from under the pillow and tossed them in front of Claire.

“Is this what you call a misunderstanding?”

Claire’s expression turned panicked. Her lips trembled as she tried to explain, but no words came out.

Suppressing the fury boiling inside me, I spoke coldly:

“I’d really like to hear your explanation. Your husband is away on a business trip, and you let another man sleep in our master bedroom?”

“Claire, tell me—what kind of misunderstanding is this?”

“Or is it that your so-called little brother had another episode, and you needed to personally help him change his underwear in our bedroom?”

My words dripped with sarcasm, and Claire’s face flushed, turning from pale to ashen.

Humiliated, she lashed out, slapping me hard across the face.

The sting burned instantly; she had struck with all her strength.

“I’m sorry, Ethan—I lost control.”

She looked at the swelling on my cheek with a flicker of guilt before lowering her hand.

Since Ryan returned from the U.S., Claire and I had only grown further apart.

At first, I had tried to accept him—her brother was my brother, I told myself.

So when she worried about Ryan’s condition, I was more concerned than anyone.

I searched everywhere for top psychiatrists—first in the South, then in the North, and when none in the country worked, I sought specialists in the United States.

Even during my business trips, I made time to visit doctors abroad.

And yet, when I returned home, I found Ryan lying in my bed, wearing my pajamas, with my wife in his arms.

And I was the fool left on the outside.

I wiped the blood-red mark at the corner of my mouth, fixing my eyes on the stunned Claire.

“Claire, for the sake of what we once had, let’s part ways peacefully.”

Regaining her composure, she looked at me coldly.

“Ethan, after all these years together, do you really not trust me?”

“You hold hands, hug, caress—doing everything lovers do. Sorry, but I’m not playing this game with you two.”

Her forced composure only deepened the chill in my heart.

Before I could say more, her phone rang, its shrill tone unmistakable—the ringtone she reserved only for Ryan’s emergency calls.

Claire immediately answered.

“What is it, Doctor? Is Ryan unwell again?”

“Ms. Miller, it’s bad. Ryan has disappeared. His phone is off, and he’s removed his tracking bracelet.”

The doctor’s voice trembled with urgency.

Claire’s face blanched with panic.

“Ethan, Ryan’s in trouble—I don’t have time for your tantrums right now.”

Watching her rush out in a frenzy, a wave of helplessness crushed me.

Just like every other time—the moment that ringtone sounded.

Whether it was three in the morning, in the middle of a meeting, or even during our most intimate moments—

Claire would abandon everything to run to Ryan.

Sometimes she even brought him to the office, just to keep an eye on him.

Privately, employees had already begun calling him “little boss.” Claire never denied it—she even introduced him warmly to the whole company.

She had even gone so far as to secretly terminate our barely-formed pregnancy, just to focus on caring for Ryan.

“We can have another baby later. Right now, Ryan’s health comes first.”