Divorcing The Arrogant Ice Hockey Star

Chapter 4

Word Count: 736 | Released on: Today at 16:39

erlooking Central Park. I sat on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, the incision

ed, handing me a mug of hot cocoa before pouring herself a glass

spreading through me. "I'm divorcing h

you going to do it? That asshole won't let go easily. No

"Our prenup states that if one party's infidelity leads to the breakdown of the marriage

you have proof? About I

I need a top-tier divorce lawyer. The kind who can chew up

n her tablet. "Arthur Vance. They call him 'The Shark.

-eyed man in a tailored suit. I no

is in chaos over your resignation. Landon's agent has c

m." My departure was

ed calls from Landon were displaye

don

ing practice at the New Yor

o find my agent, a middle-aged m

is face grim. "Hublot just called. They'

r on my brow feeling fierce. "What? W

ockey Prince Landon Knight Cheating? Caught in Late-N

or two days, has the media speculating your marriage is on the rocks," Leo explained. "Hublot's

ench. The loud crash made the o

er name out throu

difficult. She was the one playing childish games. She was

that my own actions were

I growled, gra

at home, not answering her phone. Elar

. Betrayed by a woman I thought

and jumped into my black Bentl

d again, but it went straig

g wheel. I had to find her. I had to

expecting to find her there, crying, read

or. The apartment

oom. The walk-in close

s, her bags, h

g all alone, was a si

eddin

its cold, unfamiliar g

ife, an emotion I couldn't

Chapter End

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Divorcing The Arrogant Ice Hockey Star

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“On our fourth wedding anniversary, I spent all afternoon preparing my husband's favorite meal. But Landon, a star hockey player, came home late, ignored the dinner, and rushed back out to comfort his ex-girlfriend. When I begged him to stay, he coldly called me "unreasonable" and slammed the door. Shortly after, I received a text message from an unknown number. It was an ultrasound photo, along with a taunting text: Isabelle was pregnant with his child. The sheer shock triggered a sudden, agonizing pain in my abdomen, making me collapse on the cold tiles. I called Landon with my last ounce of strength, begging him to save me. "Stop faking sick just because I went out. Don't cause more trouble for me. Get yourself an Uber." He impatiently hung up to deal with his ex's PR crisis. I was rushed to the ER with a ruptured ovarian cyst and severe internal bleeding. I nearly died on the operating table, forced to sign my own surgery consent forms completely alone. For four years, I had given up my dreams and identity to support his career, only to be treated like a disposable doll. I couldn't understand how the man I loved could leave me to die while fiercely protecting another woman. Waking up from the anesthesia, the pathetic woman who begged for his love was dead. I didn't cry or wait for his apology. Instead, I transferred my assets, packed my bags, and hired the most ruthless celebrity divorce lawyer in New York. This time, I'm making him pay.”