The Tycoon Ex-Husband Begs for Forgiveness after Divorce

On our ninth wedding anniversary, Xavier Thorpe walked Natalie Reynolds through our front door.

Adjusting his cufflinks with indifference, his gaze swept over the candlelit dinner I'd prepared in the dining room.

"Starting today, Natalie will take the master bedroom. She's pregnant and needs care."

I set down my napkin and stared calmly through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The setting sun stained the garden blood-red—much like my shattered heart.

"Oh, and," he added as an afterthought, "she's picky about food. You'll prepare three different meals for her daily."

Our butler gave me a hesitant look.

Xavier smirked.

"Let her throw a tantrum. She'll come crawling back like a dog within three days."

Servants stifled giggles behind their hands.

They'd even started a betting pool on whether I'd last the night.

No one noticed the suitcase I'd hidden by the foyer earlier.

"One more thing." Xavier stopped me as I turned to leave.

"Give Natalie your heirloom bracelet. She hasn't been sleeping well."

It was the only keepsake from my deceased parents.

My nails dug into my palms as I clutched my wrist.

"Name your price," he said impatiently, as though negotiating a business deal.

I remembered last month at the ski resort—when Xavier had stripped me of my coat and left me in minus-twenty-degree snow because I hadn't given my goggles to Natalie.

As I unclasped the bracelet, I smiled at Natalie.

"May your child be safe and sound."

For once, Xavier looked pleased.

"As long as you behave, my child could be yours too."

The bracelet slipped from my fingers before he finished speaking.

Shards of jade grazed Natalie's calf, drawing blood.

"Sophia!" Xavier yanked me forward by the hair.

"Apologize!"

My knees hit the broken fragments.

White-hot pain blurred my vision.

The scene felt sickeningly familiar—every time Natalie frowned, I'd kneel and beg forgiveness.

The soup was too bland? I'm sorry.