I Played the King’s Game Then I Divorced Him Chapter 07

I Played the King’s Game Then I Divorced Him Chapter 07

The divorce proceedings went faster than expected.

Sean spent fifteen days in jail. After being released on bail pending trial, he moved straight into that 750-square-foot apartment-which was now seized by the court, forcing him to stay temporarily

with a friend.

We met at a coffee shop across from the courthouse. He had lost a lot of weight, his stubble was unshaven, and there were dark shadows under his eyes. The Sean who could crack a joke, act tough, and blush at a compliment had vanished. Sitting across from me now was a man whose spirit had

been drained.

“I don’t want the house,” he said bluntly. “But the company shares are what I deserve for all the years I spent building it with you.”

I set my coffee cup down.

“Building it with me?” I repeated the words. “Sean, when you joined the company, you didn’t even know how to use Excel. I taught you how to make spreadsheets, write proposals, and meet clients. Your so-called ‘building’ was leaking the floor price of the merger to StellarTech last year?”

His fingers twisted together.

“Jade forced me to do that…’

“She forced you?” I cut him off. “The chat logs don’t say that. ‘Once we get the shares, we’re going to the Maldives’-is that the tone of someone being forced?”

He went silent.

Outside, students were handing out flyers, their youthful voices drifting in through the glass. I remembered when we first started dating; he had stood on a street corner handing out flyers just like that to make rent. Back then, I felt so bad for him that I gave him all the cash I had on me and walked three miles home to our rental.

“Claire,” he suddenly looked up, “have you ever thought about why it turned into this?”

“I have,” I said. “My conclusion is that I was blind.”

“No!” His voice rose sharply, and people at the next table looked over. “It’s because you never cared about me! All you saw were projects, performance, and board meetings! Do you even know when my last birthday was? Do you know what I like to eat?”

I watched his performance in silence.

“March 17th last year,” I said. “I was in the hospital on your birthday with acute appendicitis. You came for twenty minutes and left after a phone call, saying a friend had a breakup and needed company. Later, I saw in the logs that you were at a cabin with Jade that day.”

His expression froze.

“As for what you like to eat,” I continued, “I knew that in our first year of marriage. Allergic to mangoes, no cilantro, half-and-half pizza orders. I remembered those for seven years, and you I paused. “You didn’t even know that I don’t eat garlic and onion ravioli.”

He opened his mouth, but no sound came out.

“Sean, stop trying to wrap yourself up as the victim. You aren’t lacking love; you’re greedy. You wanted my money and status, her sweet talk, and the role of the pitiable husband neglected by his wife. In this play, you are the only protagonist. We were just props.”

I pulled the divorce papers from my bag and pushed them toward him.

“Sign it. You leave with nothing. In exchange, I won’t pursue legal action regarding your cousin’s offshore transfer-though he’ll likely be convicted of money laundering anyway, but that’s a

separate matter.”

His fingers trembled as the pen hovered in the air.

“Claire,” he suddenly said, “if… if I apologize…”

“I won’t accept it.”

The pen touched the paper, and the ink bled into a small blotch.