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CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

Lance stood motionless for a while as he slowly turned to face me, his eyes narrowing. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me right," I spat back. "If you’re planning on throwing every single thing away; your company, your position, your pride — all because of some misplaced guilt over “her”... then I’m done. I want a divorce, Lance Wells. This..isn’t the kind of life I signed up for. I didn’t marry you to become the wife of your ex-wife’s lackey. Never!” I said in a determined voice as I would never be the wife of Ariel Rodrigo's personal Assistant.

In their dreams.

A dark, hollow chuckle escaped his lips, a sound that sent chills down my spine. He’s also mocking me. Now that I've got nothing else again, he's not treating me like trash

.

He stepped closer, his face inches from mine. "A divorce, huh?" He tilted his head, dripping sarcasm. "Did you just say you want a divorce?" I crossed my arms, looking away defiantly, and nodded.

"Then what happened to that same Ashley who sabotaged
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