Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

KIAN’S POV

I want a divorce.

The words circle around my head non-stop.

Of all the shits I have had the pleasure of hearing–and trust me, I hear a lot of crap as a CEO–Leslie asking for a divorce out of nowhere has to be the worst. I am a man who takes pride in my strength and ability to handle situations no matter how unexpected they are. It comes with the job, yet for some reason, I am unable to utter a single word or move my feet until she gets into the car with my uncle. When I finally come to my senses, she is long gone, leaving me to drown in the pool of shock she created.

I am shocked at her audacity; the way she looked me in the eyes as she hit me with those words. Leslie’s cold hazel eyes totally betrayed the meek and timid trait that I have only ever known her for. I am equally shocked at myself for actually being affected by it when I shouldn't have batted an eyelash, after all, I never wanted to marry her. The three years of living with Leslie felt like I was in bondage created by her own deceit and my grandfather’s overbearing attitude.

I never cared about Leslie yet the sound of divorce numbed me completely that I am unable to think straight until the door to my car opens and reminds me that I am still standing still in front of the cemetery. My personal assistant steps out of the car and speaks.

“Sir, your appointment with the paper company is thirty minutes from now. It’s more than an hour’s drive from here, we should leave now if–”

“Cancel it,” I say, heading back to the car, not quite in the right mind to process anything, not even a meeting whose outcome was worth millions of dollars. My assistant follows behind me in a hurry, obviously confused.

“But sir, that isn’t the only appointment for the day. You also have…” He starts to read out my packed schedule for the day as I finally get into the car.

“Cancel them all!” I say, settling into the leather seats of the car and loosening my tie at the same time as it feels like I am slowly losing the ability to breathe, “Get in and turn the damn AC on.” I command him, unable to prevent my anger and irritation from reflecting in my voice. Finally noticing the negative emotions rolling out of me in waves, he mutters his response before getting into the driver’s seat and pulling the car out of the cemetery’s parking lot.

We get to the highway, air is emitting from not only the AC in the car yet I feel heat rising from inside of me and not even loosening a few buttons on my shirt helped. All I can think about is Leslie and the damned divorce. My shock is long gone and I am now stewing in nothing but anger, bordering on rage.

Who the hell does she think she is?

What gives her the boldness to think she makes the call for divorce?

If anyone should be asking for a divorce, It should be me. I am the one who married her against my will. She’s the one who found me so irresistible that she went as far as drugging me just to have me. If anyone deserves to slam divorce papers in her face, it is me but the thought never crossed my mind.

She’s a good secretary, dutiful, efficient and always at my beck and call. She also doubles as a good wife, never getting in my way or needy for attention. Leslie takes whatever I give her; the little time, the irregular sex and the little communication, all that I deemed appropriate for our kind of relationship.

The sudden switch has me racking my brain, thinking of different possibilities and all the things that could have gone wrong. A thought crosses my mind and it intensifies my anger in a way that I can’t even understand.

“Find out if Leslie has been meeting anyone lately. Men in particular.” I say. My assistant meets my eyes through the rearview mirror. His eyes fail to hide his surprise that I am asking him to look into my wife and the possibility that she’s been seeing other men. I can’t rule out all the possibilities and if Leslie has really been cheating on me, I swear to God–

My phone vibrates beside me on the leather seats. Beverly’s name pops up on the screen in a message notification. She’s asking me when next I would be available for an appointment at the doctor’s office. Seeing Beverly’s message douses my anger but leaves me with a far more disturbing emotion. I thought of all the reasons why my quiet wife is suddenly asking for a divorce but it never crossed my mind that impregnating the woman I once loved could be the reason.

I think back to that day two months ago when yet again, I let drinking lead me into making the worst decisions. All I had to do was pick Beverley up at the airport, drive her to her hotel and return home. Instead, I took the invite to have a drink in her hotel room; for old time’s sake, she called it. We did more than just have a drink that night and the outcome is the baby growing inside of Beverly. I can’t call it a mistake yet deep down, I know it should have never happened. I should have never let myself get tempted by the thought of how being inside of Beverly will feel after three years.

I want the child. It’s my baby and I don’t plan on losing it but it comes at a price that I never thought would be a problem which is the divorce with Leslie. I can’t let Leslie divorce me. I need her. At the office and in my home. She’s been my secretary for seven years and no one can do her job like her. I also pay her well and make sure she doesn’t need anything as my wife. How does she plan to survive without me anyway?

As I think deeply about these things, I also think of a way to remedy them.

I just need to do something to appeal to her.

“What do women like?” I asked my assistant.

He hesitates at first, surprised by the sudden question before he clears his throat and answers, “Erm, designer bags I guess and oh, flowers.”

I am already scrolling through an online store on my phone, clicking away at every expensive bag that catches my eyes until I have already ordered a number to last her an entire year. Then we make a stop at the flower shop on the way home. Turns out there are more than a hundred thousand flowers and I can’t even decide which one to get for Leslie because apparently, women have favorites when it comes to things as trivial as flowers as well. In the end, I pick Lilies because the attendant at the flowershop claims it’s most women’s favorite.

I head home after that with only one single thought at the back of my mind; I won’t let Leslie divorce me.