Divorcing The Wrong Man: Her Regret

Chapter 3: The Line You Don't Cross

Adrian stood in the living room, the divorce papers still warm from his signature. Lisa’s question still hung in the air; “You have no money, no job, no single penny in your leaking pocket. How the fuck are you gonna afford that kid’s shoes, let alone her future? Huh? Tell me, loser!”

Clearly, she was not asking because she cared. This was just mockery.

“That’s not your concern, Lisa,” he replied, voice low, like a storm brewing far off.

Lisa leaned forward, her smirk sharp as a blade. “Oh, please, Adrian. You’re a nobody. A broke-ass nobody. You think you can play daddy without Vanessa’s cash? Well, good luck with that. You’ll only come back later to beg for money for feeding. The streets ain’t funny.” She tossed her hair, her designer earrings glinting like they were laughing too.

Before Adrian could respond, a small voice piped up from the hallway. “You’re a bad woman, Lisa!” Aria stood there, barefoot in her pajamas, clutching her stuffed bunny. Her eyes were wide, brimming with tears, but her chin jutted out, defiant. “Daddy’s not a loser!”

Lisa’s face twisted, her laugh turning venomous. “Oh, look at this. The little brat speaks.” She stepped closer, towering over Aria. “Listen to me, you’re a kid nobody wants, you know that? Not even your own mommy cares about you. Nobody like you and your daddy, and you, little one, are just an arrogant little bitch like your annoying daddy!”

Aria’s face crumpled, tears spilling down her cheeks. Lisa’s words hurt her deeply. She hugged her bunny tighter, a sob breaking free. This made Adrian’s blood roar in his veins, his calm shattering like the plates Vanessa smashed last night. He stepped between Lisa and Aria, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. 

“Lisa, apologize to her. NOW. Don't make me ask twice.”

Lisa scoffed, crossing her arms. “Apologize? To that little bastard? Why should I? Her own mother doesn’t even love her.” She sneered, her words dripping with cruelty. “Face it, Adrian, you’re both dead weight and you’re the ones drawing Vanessa backwards.”

The air snapped taut, like a wire about to break. Aria cried even louder, her tears now soaking up her bunny. It was loud, but the pain behind her voice was deep, silent yet shattering. Adrian looked at the tears on his little girl’s face. That was it. He’d had enough of this nonsense. His hand moved before he could think, 

Slap! 

A sharp crack echoing as his palm met Lisa’s cheek. She stumbled back, clutching her face, her eyes wide with shock. “You can mock me all you want,” Adrian said, his voice cold as ice, “but you don’t ever… EVER… talk about my daughter like that. Cross that line again, Lisa, and you’re done. You’d regret the day my name got registered into your sloth brain.”

Lisa’s mouth opened, then closed, her face flushing red. “You… you hit me!” she shrieked, her voice shrill enough to rattle the windows. “You’re just a poor, pathetic nobody! How dare you touch me?” She fumbled for her phone, probably to call Vanessa or the cops, her hands shaking with rage.

Just before she could dial, a low rumbling sound filled the air — engines, deep and powerful, rolling up outside. Lisa froze, her eyes darting to the window. Adrian didn’t move, but a faint smirk tugged at his lips. He knew that sound. Lisa didn’t.

She stormed to the window, yanking the curtains back. Her jaw dropped. A convoy of luxury cars — sleek, super expensive black Rolls-Royces, polished Bentleys, a gleaming Maybach — lined the street, their chrome catching the morning sun like a row of diamonds. 

Not one car, not two, not even three, but four luxurious cars. 

Men in tailored suits stood by the doors, their postures rigid, waiting. Lisa’s eyes widened, her smirk returning, smugger than ever. “See this, Adrian?” she said, turning to him, her palm still on her face. “This is Vanessa’s life now. Power. Money. You’ll never touch this world.” Vanessa was so excited and felt like she was on top of the world.

Adrian, however, didn’t answer, he just watched her, his sly smile growing colder. 

The front door soon opened, and a man stepped in — tall, handsome, well-built man, his suit cut so sharp it could draw blood. His dark hair was slicked back, not a strand daring to flick out. The watch he wore glinted with understated wealth. Lisa’s breath caught, her eyes practically sparkling. “Oh, my God,” she muttered, smoothing her hair. “That’s gotta be one of Vanessa’s suitors. Look at him. This is what she deserves, Adrian. Not you. Do you now understand? Can you now see that you and Vanessa are not on the same level?”

The man, however, didn’t even glance at Lisa. He crossed the room in long, purposeful strides, stopping in front of Adrian. Then, to Lisa’s shock, he dropped to one knee, bowing his head. “Young Master West,” he said, voice reverent, “I am Marcus, butler of the Cross family. It is an honor to serve you.”