She Got His Celebration, I Got His Betrayal Chapter 08

She Got His Celebration, I Got His Betrayal Chapter 08

The room erupted. Reporters surged forward like fish scenting blood.

Evan’s security held the line in front, barely keeping them back.

Julian stared at me. “I know you saw the video. Katherine, I admit I married you because of a bet. But in

these three years, I really did fall in love with you. Can’t you feel that?”

I let out a bitter laugh. “Am I supposed to feel it?”

He pressed his lips together. “What exactly am I supposed to feel? That you love her more?”

He stepped forward, his lips moved, but no sound came out.

“Julian,” I said. “If you love me, then tell me my birthday.”

He froze. “Tell me our wedding anniversary. Tell me what I’m allergic to. Tell me how many times I called you

the day my boss harassed me.”

His face went pale. Then paler.

The big screen lit up.

Photos began to scroll, one after another.

The first was in a bar. Celeste was hanging on Julian, drunk and leaning against his shoulder. He looked

down at her with a smile.

That day was my birthday. I stayed home alone, made dinner, and waited until midnight.

The second was Julian kneeling at Celeste’s feet, helping her put on her shoes, his hand cradling her ankle.

That day, I had surgery. I signed my own consent form.

The third was Julian taking Celeste to dinner. A beautiful cake sat on the table.

That day, I worked until eleven at night. It was pouring outside, and I couldn’t get a cab near the office.

I stood in the rain for forty minutes. My phone never lit up with a single message from him.

One after another, and behind every one of them, I was alone. My palms were slick with sweat.

Tearing open those old wounds hurt more than I could say.

“You know what, Julian? I didn’t get up here today to drag Celeste for how she’s treated me all these years. I’m not here to call her out for sending her fans after me online. And I’m definitely not here to make you feel guilty.”

I took a breath. My chest was so tight I could barely breathe.

“I just needed you to hear me. For once. To not walk out the second I start talking because Celeste is calling.

I’m a person too, Julian. I break too.”

Julian’s face was ashen. “Julian, I don’t love you anymore. I’m done being the piece you push aside whenever

it’s convenient for you and Celeste. I want a divorce.”

“If you won’t sign, I’ll file. And I’ll sue Celeste for defamation.”

I took a deep breath and smiled at the cameras.

“You’re the best attorney in New York. You can stand in court and defend the man who harassed me,

sentence by sentence, saying I exaggerated. This time, you can still stand across from me. But I won’t look

back.”

I turned and walked off the stage.

My legs were so weak I could barely stay upright.

Behind me was chaos. Reporters shouting. Celeste crying. Security pushing through the crowd.

A month later, the court granted the divorce.

The evidence against Celeste for defamation was overwhelming. I won.

The harassment case was overturned after new surveillance footage surfaced.

That day, I stood outside the courthouse, the sun sharp enough to make my eyes sting.

Evan leaned against the car, took my copy of the judgment, skimmed it, and folded it into his pocket.

After the hearing, Julian had tried to find me many times.

But I had no strength left to see him, and I didn’t want to stay connected to that past.

Evan told me the Prescott family was in trouble.

Someone had set a trap for Mr. Prescott in business. The cash flow had collapsed, and the company’s stock had dropped thirty percent.

To cut their losses, the Vance family married Celeste off to a sixty–year–old billionaire, trading her for the

emergency funds they needed.

I heard Celeste’s reputation was destroyed. In that house, she was despised and left alone in the marriage,

tormented by the old man.

The day I went back to pack up my things, the Prescott house was empty.

The darkness inside startled me.

The lights were off. Julian was collapsed on the couch, wearing the same shirt from last week. His stubble

had grown out, and his cheekbones looked sharper.

I stepped around the couch toward the bedroom.

He suddenly grabbed my wrist.

“Kate? Is that you?”

He opened his eyes. They were bloodshot, and he smelled like alcohol.

I pulled my hand free and said nothing.

“I kept looking for you.” His voice was slurred. He closed his eyes and murmured my name again.

I didn’t have many things.

By the time I passed through the living room, he had already drifted off again. His hand hung over the edge of the couch, the divorce decree between his fingers.

I looked away and walked out the door.

Downstairs, Evan leaned against the car. He saw me and lifted two plane tickets.

“So, Miss Sterling, how about we get out of the country together?”

I smiled as the warm sunlight landed on my face.

I reached out and took his hand.

“Sure.”