<b>Chapter </b><b>1 </b>
1:00 AM. My husband’s phone buzzed with a call from Lily Sinir–the pregnant widow of his fallen partner. She was sobbing about someone trying to break into her house, scared out of her mind.
My husband Ryan had just wrapped up a three–day stakeout without a wink of sleep, but he didn’t even hesitate. Grabbed his keys and bolted out the door to fort” her.
Didn’te back until sunrise.
“Look, Lily’s been through hell, okay? She’s due any day now, and thest thing she needs is more stress.” He noticed I was still nted on the couch, stone–faced, so he tried his usual move–wrapping his arms around my shoulders like that would fix everything.
“Babe, she’s carrying Daniel’s baby. As his squad leader, I owe it to him to look out for her. But I promise I’ll dial it back, alright? Don’t be mad.”
I shrugged off his hands, done with ying the understanding wife.
<b>“</b>I want a divorce.”
Ryan’s cheeks were hollow from chronic exhaustion, his eyespletely bloodshot, even his breathing unsteady.
His hands clenched and unclenched repeatedly.
He pressed himself against me again, giving me those pitiful puppy dog eyes.
“Baby, don’t talk like that. I swear I won’t go over there anymore, okay? I’ll pass Lily duty off to someone else.”
It was surreal how this tough–as–nails detective could transform into a clingy golden retriever the second he got home.
That exact contrast was what made me say yes when he proposed, even knowing his job painted targets on our backs.
But now I turned my head away, stood up, and put distance between us.
“I’m not talking crazy. Keep babysitting Lily if you want.”
“But I’m still divorcing you.”
Ryan’s brow furrowed as his whole intimidating presence kicked in, but the second he caught my tight expression, his face softenedpletely.
Still on his knees, he crawled over to me, pressing his head against my stomach like an oversized house <b>cat</b>.
“Babe, I fucked up. When I took on this responsibility, I didn’t think about how it would make you feel. I barely get time with you as it is, and now I’m giving what little we have to someone else. And I know you get jealous easily.”
“Making my gorgeous wife wait up all night while she’s pissed at me–I’m aplete asshole. But I’ve been awake for four straight days and I’m dead on my feet. Let me make it up to you properly tomorrow, okay my little jealous baby?”
He couldn’t suppress a yawn, reaching for my hand to lead me toward the bedroom.
Anyone hearing this would automatically take his side–here’s a guy barely able to stand, still patiently coddling his unreasonable wife.
But I wasn’t having it. I yanked my hand away and spoke each word clearly:
<b>“</b><b>I </b>SAID I want a divorce!”
Ryan wasn’t prepared for the force of it. He stumbled backward, knocking over the ceramic vase we’d made together at that couples‘ pottery <fn3073> This content belongs to find[?]ovel</fn3073>
ss.
<b>44.09% </b>
His eyes went half–lidded as reality hit him. My repeated divorce threats finally snapped his patience.
“I apologized. I promised to keep my distance from Lily. What the hell else do you want from me<b>?</b><b>” </b>
“You always said never to throw around the D–word unless we meant it, but you’ve said it twice tonight. So what’s your game here?<b>” </b>
He even remembered some throwawayment I’d made, probably when I was drunk.
“Ryan, I’m not jealous and I don’t need you to grovel. I just want a divorce.”
“I want uspletely over.”
BANG!
His fist grazed past my ear and mmed into the wall behind me. I flinched slightly.
“I’ll get awyer to draw up the paperwork. I won’t take anything that isn’t rightfully mine–you just need to sign where I tell you, and I’ll handle everything else.”
My remaining words were drowned out by his heavy breathing. When he raised his hand, I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut, but he just covered his own face, voice thick with emotion.
“Victoria, stop. Please. Tell me what you hate and I’ll change it. Just don’t divorce me.”
This invincible man showing his one vulnerable spot–it could make anyone forgive him anything.
But I firmly pushed past him.
“I hate living in constant fear every day. I hate you running off to another woman’s house every night. Can you change those things?<b>” </b>
Ryan’s eyes went wide with shock, unable to believe that I–the woman who’d supported his career even after getting a knife pressed to my throat–would say such things.
His expression darkened as I met his stare and finished my thought.
“I’ll be by tomorrow for you to sign.”
The air went deadly quiet except for a barely audible intake of breath from the guest room. Ryan’s parents, who’d gone to bed early, had been woken by our fight and came rushing out.