Chapter 8

Thud—

The property deed slipped from Vivian Lancaster's fingers and hit the floor. Her face turned deathly pale, lips trembling before she suddenly lunged at me like a madwoman.

"Who gave you the right to sell the house?!"

I smirked, leisurely picking up the deed.

"I won't touch a single share of the company. But this apartment?" My gaze locked onto hers. "I paid for it in full. It's mine to sell."

"Besides," I deliberately paused, "didn't you just buy Ethan Winslow a new place in the suburbs? Perfect timing to move in."

Vivian's nails dug into her palms. She took a sharp breath, then abruptly softened her expression.

"That house..." Her voice turned saccharine. "It was actually meant to be your birthday gift."

I arched a brow, watching her performance.

"Putting it under Ethan's name was just to make him feel at home." She reached for my hand. "If it bothers you, we'll transfer it back tomorrow."

The same old script.

Every argument, she'd pull this tender act. Wait for me to cave, then steer things her way.

I used to fall for it. Now?

"Don't bother." I stepped back. "We'll sign the divorce papers tomorrow."

Her face twisted. Biting her lip, she spun on her heel and stormed out.

The door slammed shut.

I stared at the shattered porcelain on the floor. Eight years together, and we couldn't even end it with dignity.

Dawn light crept through the curtains when kitchen noises woke me.

Vivian stood at the stove in an apron, frying eggs. Two artfully arranged cheeseburgers waited on the table.

"Try one?" She pushed a plate toward me, beaming. "I woke up early just to make these."

Sunlight glinted off her carefully curled hair.

What a heartwarming scene.

If memory served, this was her first time cooking for me.

Too bad—

"I'm allergic to cheese," I said flatly.

Her smile froze.

Between us, a glass of steaming milk exhaled ghostly tendrils into the air.