Chapter 8

After discussing their impending divorce for what felt like hours, Mila and Miranda finally left the cozy bar around ten in the evening.

As soon as they reached the entrance, Mila came to an abrupt halt.

"What's up?" Miranda asked, stepping out from behind her.

"It's Lysander's car."

Mila pointed to a sleek black Rolls-Royce Phantom parked diagonally across the street, its license plate boasting the number 99999.

She knew it all too well.

Just as they were puzzling over why Lysander's car was parked there, the rear door swung open, and out stepped a striking woman in a cropped pink puffer jacket.

Her long, wavy chestnut hair cascaded messily over her shoulders, her enchanting doe eyes glistening with unshed tears, and her cheeks were flushed even in the biting winter air. Her steps were unsteady, and her jacket hung open, giving her a somewhat disheveled appearance.

Something was definitely off.

flame from way

spotting Mila, hastily covered her

Lysander emerged from

unbuttoned at the collar and sported a lipstick smear; his lips were a deep red, as though stained by something. His narrow, fox-like eyes

of love in their marriage, Mila knew Lysander well enough to recognize

in that car

of his old flame, he couldn't even wait to get home. Meanwhile, it had been nearly a year

between them? How long had they

the bar, Lysander hadn't even noticed her. He was

touching, exuding an air

by outrage over her friend's betrayal. She

"Don't make

could harm her career, and there was no sense

resolve caught Miranda off guard, and she was momentarily stunned. "You had the presence

hers. Her anger was swiftly replaced

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