Chapter 2Divorcing My Cheating Wife From Golden Boy to Millionaire

I slowly slid my key out of the lock and took half a step back. Only after forcing my breathing to steady did I raise my hand and knock on the door.

It was almost funny. For the first time in my life, I had to knock to get into my own home.

The laughter inside cut off instantly.

A long moment passed before the faint shuffle of slippers approached. Then, the door was pulled wide open.

Wendy stood there, her face a mask of shock.

I caught every single micro-expression—the brief flash of eager anticipation in her eyes, followed by the immediate disappointment when she saw it was just me.

Still, her practiced smile snapped right back into place.

"You're back! Wow, is this for me?"

Beaming, she took the cake and flowers from my hands, her voice dripping with sweetness:

"Thanks, babe."

She delivered the line with utter ease. You would never guess that just seconds ago, she had been tearing me down in front of her friends with cold detachment.

If I hadn’t heard it with my own ears, I never would have believed that the wife who always played the devoted partner in front of me could hold me in such utter contempt.

So why, Wendy?

Just because he came back, I'm supposed to step aside and roll over?

Like hell I will.

I mirrored her smile, keeping my expression perfectly tender and attentive.

"Why are you being so polite with me? You're my wife. If I don't treat you well, who else would I spoil?"

So don't push me to my limit.

I emphasized the word wife, fixing my gaze on her without blinking. I didn't miss the split-second panic flitting across her eyes.

Her friends poked their heads out from the hallway.

"Wendy, everything okay?"

The moment they saw me, guilt from their earlier gossip clearly hit them. Looking startled and uneasy, they hurried to grab their coats.

"Oh, hey! Your husband’s home! Well, we... we actually have somewhere to be, so we'll get out of your hair!"

Grabbing their purses, they slipped their shoes on at lightning speed and mumbled hasty goodbyes.

Wendy politely saw them to the door. But the second the lock clicked shut, she turned around and tossed the bouquet carelessly onto the floor. Not satisfied, she ground her heel into the petals, her brows knitting into a furious scowl as she lashed out at me.

"Ethan, could you grow up for once? These flowers are completely useless! They just sit there taking up space, die in a couple of days, and then attract fruit flies while they rot. You bought them back then, and you're still buying them now. It's been three years—do you ever learn?"

I stared at the bruised, mangled blossoms on the hardwood floor, refusing to back down quietly.

"Wait... you literally told me lisianthus was your favorite flower, which is why I—"

"Enough!"

Wendy snarled, cutting me off viciously.

"You said it yourself—that was the past! Can't I change my mind? I hate them now, okay?!"

The moment the words left her mouth, she spun around and slammed into the bedroom.

The heavy thud of the door echoed through the empty hallway.

I stood frozen by the entryway, staring blankly at the ruined flowers at my feet.

I couldn't fathom how someone could have two completely different faces. How someone could be so fickle, falling out of love and changing their tastes in the blink of an eye.

First the flowers... and now me.