Divorcing The Arrogant Ice Hockey Star

Chapter 8

Word Count: 643 | Released on: Today at 16:39

t listings on her tablet. One in the West Village had caught my ey

Elara's phone rang. She glanced at the calle

e friends, a man who was always a gentleman, always

an's smooth, magnetic voice came through, asking

ck him up?

e. She was about to refuse when I shook

p Landon's last shred of dignity away fro

breath, and made my voice as

stening, probably still holding on to some ridiculous hope that

ing looks. They were waiting for my response

give them

sharp and distinct, "He's drunk?

her end. The air felt

should call Isabelle Sterling. She's the

for a reply, I

ining with pure adoration, then threw her arms around me in a c

s. The suffocating weight on my chest finally l

ok on Landon's face at the

s "locker room brotherhood

nstructed mask to shreds in front of

don

bar, time

e stunned, staring a

ad said the name. The impl

ade of green. The hand holding his glass was trembl

naked, unprecede

casually exposed by his own wif

s phone away, his voice

nd me. I didn't trust myself to speak. Instead, I swept

for the door, my legs unsteady, my

ter a single word

tal problems were far more serious than he had imagined. This w

y world had just collapsed, and I had

Chapter End

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Divorcing The Arrogant Ice Hockey Star

Su Liao Romance

“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.”