THE HUSBAND THEY BULLIED, THE KING THEY FEARED

CHAPTER 3

THE WALK AWAY

The door slowly creaked open, the light from the still rising sun pouring into the house. A soft whistle echoed across the room as the cold wind from outside blew into the house. 

Vanessa let out a soft sigh as she walked in, unwrapping her scarf from around her neck as she closed the door behind her. She pulled off her coat and hung it with the scarf on the suit rack. 

Soft jazz poured into the foyer from the living room and Vanessa couldn't help but hum to the song. Her fingers worked its way around the lock of her Rolex wristwatch as she walked through the doorway. But then she caught sight of a figure sitting on the couch and she let out a loud yelp. 

Her beating heart calmed when the figure turned on the table lamp, revealing their face. It was Damien. 

“What the fuck, Damien?" she cursed angrily, slipping her wristwatch out of her hand and into her pocket. “You fucking scared me there." 

Damien stirred on the couch, his fingers running through his hair as he took a sip from the glass in his hand. His shirt was unbuttoned and he had dark circles under his eyes. He looked rough, like he hadn't slept a wink. 

Vanessa didn't greet him, didn't even spare him a second glance. “I'm going upstairs," she muttered softly before yawning and stretching her arms over her head. “I had a lot done today and my back's aching. I need you to massage my shoulders.” 

Damien barely moved as he took another sip from his glass. 

Vanessa paused, her brows furrowed into a frown. “Really?" she scoffed, shaking her head. “You really are going to act like this? I'm not asking for much and you're already…” She sighed. "God, you're so useless.” 

If it was Sebastain, she thought, I wouldn't even need to ask. He'd have already noticed my stiff shoulders and jumped to help ease the tension without me parting my lips. 

She placed a hand on her shoulder and smiled softly as she imagined his hands running over her shoulder, caressing them as they slid down to her—

“Where were you last night?” Damien suddenly asked, his hoarse voice cutting Vanessa's thoughts short. 

Vanessa froze, feeling her ring finger where Sebastain had slid his ring. Taking a deep breath, she maintained her composure and turned to face him. 

“If I remember correctly, you asked me this question yesterday and I told you where I was," she answered, her brow raised as she folded her arms across her chest. 

Damien raised his glass, staring at the golden liquid in it. “I tried calling you after but your phone was switched off." 

Vanessa shrugged. "I was at the celebration banquet and my phone died.” A long silence followed before Vanessa scoffed loudly. “Why do you feel the need to question me like a criminal every single time I step outside—”

"Here.” Damien slid his phone out of his pocket and tapped the screen. Vanessa didn't need to see what he had played to know it was a video from the banquet–the laughter and cheers told her everything. 

“What's that?" Vanessa asked, feigning ignorance. 

Damien didn't give her a reply and just lifted the phone screen to her face. Vanessa's heart skipped a beat as she watched Sebastian kiss her on the lips before dropping to his knee and pulling out the engagement ring. 

“W-what?" she stuttered, the blood draining from her face. 

“I'd love an explanation, Vanessa," Damien said, his voice calm despite the storm raging within him. 

Vanessa opened her mouth to answer, to hurl something sharp-tongued at him—but nothing came out. She couldn't even glance at him. For a moment, a fresh panic riled in her chest

“I’d love an explanation, Vanessa,” he said, his voice was low… too calm. 

She opened her mouth, her words coming out in incomprehensible mumbles. “It’s— it’s not what it looks like. He—he just—”

Her gaze darted away from his, her hands trembling as she searched for a lie that wouldn't come. The video ended with the flash of a diamond ring.

Shame burned hot in her chest. She could feel his disappointing gaze on her, cutting through every lie before she could form it.

And suddenly, the panic twisted into something sharper. So this is what he wants? To make me squirm? To throw everything back in my face when he’s clearly the fault? Her heart pounded in her ears, anger and humiliation seething within her.

Her chest heaving, she slapped the phone out of his hands. Damien didn't react and just watched the phone fall to the ground, the screen cracking as it hit the rug with a loud thud. 

“You're fucking filming me now?!" she shouted, her chest rising and falling. “You’re now spying on me like some stalker?”

Damien’s eyes dimmed with realization as he sank into the couch. She had not even bothered denying it. 

“Even if I really cheated, what’s the problem?!" Vanessa shouted as she laughed at him. “It’s not my fault you've turned into nothing more than a pathetic househusband playing servant. How did I even get to be with…” she ran her gaze over him, shaking her head, "...how did I even get to be with you? You don't even deserve me. I deserve more, not a man whose only value is in the kitchen and toilet.”

Damien sat quietly, taking every word without a show of emotion. His chest tightened but he never reacted. 

His lips curled into a slow bitter smile as he chuckled. “And… that was your reason for cheating?” he asked softly, his voice filled with disbelief. 

She opened her mouth but couldn’t utter a single word of protest. She stiffened her neck, feeling guilty, and said, “If that’s what you think, then fine.”

Damien said nothing, merely stared at her. His jaw clenched.

There was a day when he would have protested, when he'd do anything to make it right — swallowed pride, overlooked his own exhaustion, worked nights simply so she could live the way she wanted. He'd fought the board, signed contracts he didn't believe in, sheltered her from every rumor that threatened her.

For what?

She'd never known. Never mattered. All the things he sacrificed—unhearable. All the late nights he came back home—twisted into proof that he wasn't enough.

And here she was, standing there, fuming with anger, after tearing it all apart.

Finally, Damien nodded slowly — the slightest, most defeated movement. Without a word, he reached across to the draw beside him and pulled out a file. The soft rustle of paper cut through the stillness.

He placed it on the table and drew a pen from his pocket, flipping it open with a loud snap. Vanessa's gaze followed his movement, fear and doubt dancing behind her controlled face.

“You know, I forced myself to believe it was a lie, a fake video created by some rival company to smear your reputation. I spent the whole night worrying about you as I replayed the live show over… and over again. But now…” he signed on the paper “... I see there really was no need." 

He closed the file and threw it to Vanessa's feet. "W-what… what is that?" she stuttered, her throat drying up as she stared at the brown folder. 

Damien dropped the glass on the drawer and stood up with a soft grunt. “Those are the divorce papers with my part already signed," he answered as he shoved his hands into his pocket. “I'd advise you to—”

“That's it?!" Vanessa shouted, her voice cracking as panic surged through her. "You're just going to… throw me away?!" Her voice trembled as she spoke–not out of pain but anger. "This was your plan all along, huh?! You were waiting for some kind of slip up from my end so you could shove this at my face, right?!” Her eyes narrowed. "There's someone else, isn't there? You just–”

“I'd advise you to take your time and think about everything,” Damien said calmly as he turned toward the door. "I'll come back in three days for the document and I hope to see your part already signed.”

Vanessa’s chest rose with anger as she followed him. “You walk through that fucking door and you don't ever come back, Damien,” she shouted, shoving him. "You'll regret this. You hear me, you'll regret this!" 

But Damien didn't even turn around or give Vanessa a reaction. He just walked out the door, closing it softly behind him as her curses echoed across the empty house.