Chapter 413 Then Let's Divorce
His voice was cold and cutting, devoid of any warmth. The way he looked at her carried intense suspicion—not the kind born of love or jealousy, but the habitual scrutiny and distrust that had become second nature to him.
Robert could joke around with anyone, his surface charm effortless and disarming. But beneath that facade lay something frozen solid—a core so cold that even boiling water would turn to ice the moment it touched him.
During their first year of marriage, on her birthday, Robert had commissioned a towering three-tier cake that nearly reached the ceiling. That evening, he'd stood behind her with his arms wrapped around her waist, whispering against her ear, "Happy birthday, Ophelia."
Men like Robert—devastatingly handsome and obscenely wealthy—only needed to make the slightest effort, throw around some money to create a romantic gesture, and what woman wouldn't fall? Ophelia was no exception to human nature. Robert was exactly her type, blessed with both stunning looks and bottomless pockets. Being attracted to him was inevitable; not being attracted would have been the real surprise.
Back then, she'd even considered following Amelia's advice—to try making their marriage work, to let time nurture genuine feelings between them. It wouldn't have been impossible.
But the very next day, he left the country, and paparazzi caught him escorting a renowned jewelry designer to an exclusive private clinic for a prenatal appointment.
Of course, that particular scandal never made headlines—it was buried before it could surface. But Ophelia worked in entertainment; she had her finger on the pulse of every piece of gossip, domestic and international, often hearing things before they broke.
The jewelry designer was named Minetti—a rising star in the industry who'd won numerous international design awards. Ophelia had never imagined that such a successful, glamorous career woman would willingly become the other woman, much less carry Robert's child.
Ophelia never denied that during their three years of loveless marriage, she'd fallen for Robert more times than she cared to count. But those feelings had never progressed beyond mere attraction—she'd made sure of that.
The designer bags lining these closet walls weren't just compensation for Robert's transgressions; they were penance for her own foolish heart, for allowing herself to feel what she shouldn't have felt in this hollow marriage. Time and again, she'd warned herself that falling for Robert was forbidden territory, a mistake she couldn't afford to make.
Ophelia's lips curved in a bitter smile. "If I told you nothing happened between Thomas and me in that car, would you believe me?"
He wouldn't. He never believed anything except his own investigations.
The Browns were a family of natural skeptics, though given their precarious position in the political arena, such paranoia was hardly surprising. When you lived at the top, you had to watch your back constantly, trusting no one completely.
Robert's eyes darkened. "I checked your schedule. You're interviewing Thomas this Friday?"
"Do you have opinions about my work now too?"
"Grandfather is already disgusted by this Thomas situation. Cutting all contact with him is the best way to avoid further complications."
His tone was flat, almost bored, yet his words carried the unmistakable weight of a command—not a suggestion.
Ophelia's fingers slowly clenched into fists as she forced a smile. "Just because Grandfather disapproves?"
Robert's brow furrowed with barely contained anger. "If you could truly separate your personal feelings from your professional duties, I wouldn't interfere with your choice of interview subjects. But you clearly can't. I don't trust you—no man trusts a wife whose heart belongs to another man."
He added, "You want bags? I'll buy them. All I ask is that you fulfill your role as my wife. If you can't do that, then there's no point in continuing this marriage."
His demands had always been simple, and Ophelia was perfectly capable of meeting them. He'd never understood why she insisted on making everything so complicated, why she had to push and provoke.
Ophelia stood frozen, her face gradually draining of all color. "And if I insist on doing the Thomas interview this Friday?"
Robert's lips curved in the faintest of smiles, cold and humorless. "Then we divorce. But I hope you'll consider that decision very carefully."
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