Chapter 3His Intern

A sharp pain shot through my ankle, but before I could react, he grabbed my chin and dragged me in front of the fogged-up mirror.

“I make you sick? What about you? Aren’t you disgusting?” he snarled, his voice dripping with venom.

“Look at yourself! Look at this haircut—it looks like a dog chewed it! Look at your breasts, they’re sagging down to your stomach! And your face, all those spots… it’s impossible to even look at you anymore!”

“Claire, do you even look like a woman anymore?”

His hand moved from my chin, cruelly squeezing my breast, his eyes like shards of ice.

“We can stay like this. I’ll guarantee you a life of comfort. But if you divorce me, I swear I will make your life a living hell.”

Long after he had left, I was still trembling.

I couldn’t believe the man I had loved for twenty years could say such things. Or… had he changed long ago, and I had simply been too blind to see?

I clenched my fists so tightly my nails dug into my palms, the sting of pain bringing a cold, sharp clarity.

James Shaw, you think I’m powerless? You think you can do whatever you want?

Just you wait. This divorce is happening.

The next morning, James had, for the first time in ages, made breakfast. My daughter, Jenna, was already eating. She glanced at me and then quickly looked down, clearly still angry.

He, however, played the peacemaker. “Jenna,” he said softly, “we agreed yesterday. We’re going to forgive your mother.”

Jenna mumbled a reluctant, “Morning, Mom.”

“She was tired from the trip yesterday,” James said, his eyes meeting mine with a look of undisguised triumph. “Come eat. I made your favorite, club sandwiches.”

I didn’t say a word. A moment later, the doorbell rang. The housekeeper showed Heather in.

“Good morning, Mrs. Shaw. I’m just here to drop off some files for James.”

They exchanged a handshake that lingered a little too long. Jenna didn’t seem to notice or care; instead, she invited Heather to join them for breakfast.

Heather feigned hesitation for a moment before gracefully sliding into my seat at the table.

As if to spite me, Jenna pushed my plate of food in front of her. Then she poured her a glass of orange juice—my favorite.

Heather, for her part, turned on the charm, doing everything she could to win Jenna over. They discovered they’d even gone to the same university.

“Wow, Jenna, you’re so cool! I was worried you’d be like your mom and not like me…” Heather simpered.

“My mom’s just going through menopause, she’s paranoid about everything,” Jenna replied dismissively. “She’s convinced you and my dad are having an affair. Just ignore her.”

By the end of the meal, the two of them were acting like best friends.

I had stopped listening the moment Jenna called me paranoid. I turned and walked out of the house.

I had to see someone. An old classmate I hadn’t spoken to in over a decade.

My first love, and now the city’s top litigator, Grant Hayes.