Divorcing The Wrong Man: Her Regret

Chapter 4: Masks And Motives

Lisa stood rooted in Vanessa’s living room, her cheek still burning from Adrian’s slap, her mind reeling from what she’d just seen. She was shocked, frozen, flabbergasted and evey other synonym in between. It was now that the slap stung even more.

That butler —Marcus. The guy that looked like a god— had dropped to his knee, calling Adrian “Young Master West” like he was royalty. What?!

Adrian noticed her countenance and he just shot her a cold glance. Her eyes locked on Adrian, who held Aria’s tiny hand, his face carved from ice. They both walked up to her and Adrian sope his final words;

“If I ever hear you insult my daughter again, Lisa,” he said, his voice low and sharp a blade wrapped in velvet, “You will pay. And you won’t like the price. Sell your entire life career and you still won’t be able to afford it.”

Lisa’s mouth opened, but her throat seized up, fear drowning her smugness. Her legs wobbled like they’d forgotten how to stand. She could only watch in shock and horror. What the heck just happened before her eyes? Was this… real?

Oh but it was. She watched as Adrian held Aria’s hand, leading her to the door. The little girl clutched her stuffed bunny, its fur still damp from her tears, but her eyes now sparked with awe at the cars outside. The little girl had never such cars before. 

Marcus held open the door of a Bentley. Adrian slid in with Aria, not sparing Lisa a glance. The convoy engines roared to life, and soon, they peeled out, leaving a trail of dust and Lisa’s shattered ego.

She snapped out of it, her shock curdling into rage.

“No. Fucking No! No way,” she muttered, her voice trembling as she fumbled for her phone. “No damn way that loser has that kind of pull.” It had to be a con. She was convinced that Adrian — house husband, nobody Adrian — must’ve swiped Vanessa’s cash, hired actors, rented those cars to pull off some pathetic stage drama. Her fingers shook as she dialed Vanessa, her cheek still throbbing. 

“V, you’re not gonna believe this,” she hissed when Vanessa picked up. “Adrian hit me. He… he slapped me right across the face!”

Vanessa’s voice exploded through the line, sharp as a whip. “He what? Why the hell would he hit you, Lisa?” 

Lisa hesitated, her mind flashing to her own cruelty. She called Aria a “bastard,” a “kid nobody wants.” She couldn’t admit that, not to Vanessa. And so she lied. “He… he was pissed about the divorce,” she lied, smoothing her voice like cream over a blade. “He refused to sign at first. I had to push him, you know, to protect your money at all costs. He lost it, V. Went full psycho and started acting like a mad man.”

Vanessa’s breath hissed, loud enough to make a waiter flinch across the lobby. “That son of a bitch. So the divorce talk was just a game? He’s after my company, isn’t he? My deal with the Cross family?” Her voice climbed, drawing stares from a group of executives sipping espresso. 

“I’m at the E Hotel right now, you know, the most luxurious Hotel in the city. And I am waiting for the Cross Family to arrive and sign. I’ll call Adrian and make him apologize for touching you.”

“Do it,” Lisa said, her smirk creeping back despite the sting on her cheek. “Put him in his place.” She hung up, her eyes darting to the living the photo of Vanessa, Adrian, and Aria on the mantle, now tilted like it was ashamed. Lisa straightened her suit, her confidence returning. Adrian was a fraud. 

He had to be.

******************

Meanwhile, in the Bentley’s plush interior, Adrian leaned back, the Piñatex leather creaking under his weight. Aria curled against him, her bunny on her lap. She was confused, really, wondering why she was in a car she only saw on YouTube. 

John Cross sat across from them, his weathered face streaked with tears, his cane resting against his knee. “Young master,” he said, voice thick with emotion, “I never thought I’d live to see this day. Years of phone calls, waiting for you… you’re home. I finally get to see you again in person.”

Adrian’s jaw softened, but his eyes stayed sharp, like a man who’d seen too much to fully relax. “You’ve done well, John. The Cross family’s untouchable now. You make me proud.”

John chuckled, wiping his eyes with a silk handkerchief. “Because of you, young master. I was nothing — a servant scrubbing floors for the West family, sleeping in a cot smaller than this car. You saw potential in me, you… gave me purpose. Now we’re kings of this city.” 

He gestured to a young woman beside him who had been quiet all through, her auburn hair pinned in an elegant twist. She was a damsel. “This is my granddaughter, Helen. She had been away for a while now, you know… studying, top schools abroad. She is sharper than most men in this town, I tell ya’.” John Cross chuckled. 

John was a wise old man. Upon hearing that Adrian had divorced his wife, he quickly called Helen back, urging her to accompany him to welcome the Young Master. He knew that if she could become his wife, the Cross Family would rise to prominence.

Helen knew this. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes flicking to Adrian, then down to her hands. “It’s an honor, Mr. West,” she said, voice soft but measured, like she’d rehearsed it. 

Adrian nodded politely. He was not aware of John’s intentions. John beamed, his cane tapping the floor with excitement. “We have prepared the most sumptuous banquet feast at the most luxurious hotel in the city, young master. Only the best for your return. The whole family’s there, waiting to honor you. Trust me, you are gonna love it.”

Aria, oblivious to the subtext, tugged Adrian’s sleeve. “Daddy, is there gonna be cake at the feast? A big one?”

Adrian ruffled her hair, a faint smile breaking through. “The biggest, kiddo. At the fanciest hotel in town.”

The car kept moving, the city’s pulse vibrating through the windows. But Adrian’s phone buzzed, slicing through the warmth like a knife. It was Vanessa calling.

Her name flashed on the screen, bold and accusing. He stared at it, his jaw tightening. They hadn’t spoke since the previous night. Memories of last night’s smashed plates and her whiskey-soaked rage flooded back. He answered, flatly. “What do you want?”

Vanessa’s voice erupted, loud enough to make Aria flinch. “What the hell is wrong with you, Adrian? Hitting Lisa? You’re a violent, greedy bastard! You better apologize to her right now, or I swear I’ll never forgive you!”

Adrian’s grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles whitening in fury, but his voice stayed cold as a winter night. “I hit her, yes. She deserved it. Call the cops if you want, Vanessa. I’m done talking to you.” He hung up abruptly, giving her no time to shoot back.