You Want Him? Take Him! But I’m Keeping All the Assets Chapter 03

You Want Him? Take Him! But I’m Keeping All the Assets Chapter 03

The air conditioning was set very low in the law firm’s conference room.

I slid my phone toward the lawyer. The screen displayed a photo of York and Faye embracing at the entrance of the club.

The lawyer was a middle-aged woman, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and looking very capable.

She examined the photo closely, then looked up at me, her tone professional and calm.

“Ms. Reed, it’s difficult to prove your husband’s infidelity based on this single photo alone. The court has strict standards for determining infidelity and requires more direct evidence, such as photos of intimate acts, chat logs, or bank transfer records.”

I smiled and put my phone away.

“The evidence will come. Ms. Lewis, please draft the divorce agreement for me first. My demands are simple: my husband gets custody of the child, and I just want my fair share of the marital assets.”

Ms. Lewis glanced at me, seemingly taken aback by my composure, but she nodded quickly.

“Alright, I’ll draft the agreement as soon as possible. If you can gather more evidence, it will work in your favor regarding the division of assets.”

“I know.” I stood up. “Send the agreement to my email once it’s ready. I can sign it anytime.”

By the time I left the law firm, it was already noon.

Instead of going home, I wandered through the mall, bought myself a dress, and treated myself to a facial.

At four in the afternoon, I returned home carrying my shopping bags.

The house was empty. As I’d expected, York hadn’t come back.

I cooked myself some pasta. Just as I finished eating, my phone buzzed.

It was a text from an unknown number.

I tapped it open—it was a ten-second video.

In a dimly lit private room, York held Faye in his arms, kissing her with a look of devotion.

The video was so clear that I could see York’s face distinctly, even the flutter of his eyelashes when he closed his eyes.

No sooner had I finished watching than another text came in, from the same number.

[Kayla, I think people can only be happy if they marry someone who loves them. What do you think?]

I saved the video, took a screenshot, and saved the text message screen as well.

At 7:00 p.m., York called.

“Kayla, I have a business dinner tonight so I might be home late. Don’t wait up for me.”

His voice came through the receiver. The background was very quiet, not like a social gathering.

I said calmly, “Okay, don’t drink too much.”

After hanging up, I sat on the living room sofa, turned on the TV, and picked a random movie to watch.

The movie was boring, and I fell asleep halfway through.

In the middle of the night, I felt someone with a faint whiff of alcohol climb gently into bed.

York wrapped his arms around me from behind, carefully burying his face in the crook of my neck, then whispered, “I’m sorry…”

I didn’t move, keeping my breathing steady as I pretended to be fast asleep.

Inside, however, I laughed sarcastically.

What was this?

A sudden pang of conscience after cheating?

Or was he feeling guilty, so he was bestowing a little false tenderness?

York fell asleep holding me, his breathing gradually becoming steady.

I opened my eyes in the darkness and gazed at the moonlight streaming through the window, but my heart felt utterly cold.