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.

women recognized her instantly: Giselle, Lysander's old flame from way back. They

upon spotting Mila,

emerged from

wore a tailored suit, unbuttoned; the white shirt beneath was unbuttoned at the collar and sported a lipstick smear; his lips were a deep red, as though stained by something.

lack of love in their marriage, Mila knew Lysander

happened in that car was

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

this started between them? How

just inside the doorway of the bar, Lysander hadn't even noticed her. He was too busy steadying the

touching, exuding

by outrage over her friend's betrayal. She was ready to march

held her back, speaking coolly, "Don't make a scene. I've already taken

lawyer, knew that a public confrontation could harm her career, and there

she was momentarily stunned. "You had the

hand trembling against hers. Her anger was swiftly

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