Billionaire, Let's Divorce! by BELLA

EMILY'S POV I stared at Adam's text, all of a sudden beginning to laugh, a bitter one. It started as a scoff, then grew into a full- blown, slightly hysterical cackle that had a few passersby givingconcerned looks. The audacity and ridiculousness of this needed to be studied, really. Here was Adam, playing the role of doting husband, completely unaware that his house of lies had been bulldozed by his very own mistress. In another life—the life I'd been living just hours ago I would have been thrilled by this text. I would have smiled at his thoughtfulness, maybe even felt a flutter of excitement at the prospect of a romantic dinner. I would have rushed hto get ready, agonizing over what to wear, how to do my hair. The thought of how close I'd cto being that oblivious, happy wife madefeel sick.

For sreason, I kind of felt a perverse sense of gratitude towards Mia. As much as I hated her for her part in this betrayal, I couldn't deny that her desperate need to hurthad inadvertently donea favor. Continuing to live in blissful ignorance while my husband made a fool ofwould have been quite pathetic to contemplate. At least now I knew the truth, as ugly as it was.

I stared at the text for a while longer before I shook my head and dropped the phone back into my purse without responding.

Let him wonder. Let him squirm.

I slid into the driver's seat of my car and turned on the engine, then I pulled out of the parking lot. Nothing I tried to do madeforget what was happening, even for a second. I blasted smusic even, and it didn't work- only made it worse.

As if answering my unspoken wish, a neon sign for a bar flickered into view up ahead. I started bringing the car to a slow down, almost immediately, also now recalling Olivia's earlier offer to go out. Maybe I should have taken her up on that drink after all. I was about to get my phone to ask her to join me, but I changed my mind. She'd already done so much fortoday. I didn't want to be a burden or continue dragging her into my mess any more than I already had.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I pulled into the bar's parking lot.

The bar had a haze of smoke hanging all around it despite the no-smoking signs on the walls. Country music twanged softly from unseen speakers. As I made my way to the bar, I felt eyes on me. Glancing to my left, I caught a man watchingand his gaze was a little too intense for comfort.

I looked away quickly, pretending I hadn't noticed.

"Whiskey, neat," I told the bartender.

He nodded, returning moments later with a glass of amber liquid. I knocked it back in one go.

"Another," I said, pushing the empty glass towards him.

Three drinks in and the edges of the world had started going pleasantly fuzzy. The pain in my chest had dulled to a manageable ache, and I started humming along to the music.

I was contemplating a fourth when a shadow fell besidewhere I sat.

"This seat taken?" a deep voice asked.

I looked up, my vision swimming slightly. It was the man from earlier, the one who'd been watching me. Up close, I could see he was handsin a rugged sort of way, with stubble shadowing his jaw and eyes that might have been green or blue in better lighting.

"Yes," I said shortly, turning back to my drink.

He settled into the stool next toanyway, flagging down the bartender.

"I'll have what she's having," he said, jerking a thumb in my direction.

I groaned inwardly, resting my forehead against the surface of the bar. My head was starting to pound and the whiskey was sitting uneasily in my stomach. I just wanted to be left alone with my misery. Was that too much to ask? Apparently, it was.

I soon felt a hand on my shoulder and jerked upright, nearly toppling off my stool in the process.

"Hey, you okay?" the man asked, steadying me.

"Okay?" I slurred, now stumbling to my feet.

"Am I okay? No, I'm not fucking okay! You want to know why? Because men are fucking idiots!" The bar had gone quiet; all eyes seemed to be onnow. But I was beyond caring.

"You think you can just waltz over here with your... your face," I gestured wildly at him, nearly losing my balance, "and your drinks, and everything will be fine? Well, it's not fine! Nothing is fine!" I staggered forward and jabbed a finger into his chest.

"You're all the same, you know that? Creepy, lying, cheating bastards who think with their dicks instead of their brains." The man held up his hands, backing away.

"Look, lady, I didn't mean " But I was on a roll now, since all the years of pent-up frustration and newly discovered betrayal had already began pouring out ofin an alcohol-fueled tirade before they could be stopped.

"You didn't mean what? To be a total cliché? To remindthat I can't even go to a bar without sguy thinking he has the right to my tand attention?" I spun around, now addressing the room at large.

"Is this what it's always going to be like? Am supposed to just accept that this is how men arex that they'll always be looking for the next best thing, even when they have a good thing right in front of them?" The room was spinning now, or maybe I was. My knees buckled, and I felt myself falling. Distantly, I heard gasps and a few shouts of alarm. But before I could hit the ground a pair of strong arms heldupright.

Those arms holdingfelt both reassuring and alien at the sm time. I struggled weakly against them, but my limbs were heavy and uncooperative. "Let... go," I mumbled, my tongue thick in my mouth. Someone was saying my name, I thought, but it sounded far away, as if it was coming from the other end of a long tunnel.

"I'm fine," I tried to say, but I'm not sure if the words actually made it past my lips. The room tilted alarmingly, and I felt my stomach lurch in response.

Suddenly, I was moving. Or rather, someone was moving me. The om change in position sent my head spinning even more, and I squeezed my eyes shut against the nauseating sensation. Warm....then cold air...then I forced my eyes open to the sight of streetlights streaking past my vision like comets.

I blinked. Was I in a car? How did I get here? I didn't know where I was or who I was with.

I tried to sit up to see who was driving, but my body refused to cooperate.

"Adam?" I whispered.

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