Chapter 3 Misunderstandings and Confrontations

Viviane spent all day at the hospital by her sister's side and didn't get back home until late at night, completely drained.

When she pushed open the door, the house was eerily quiet and engulfed in darkness.

Fumbling for the light switch, she barely clicked it on when she was suddenly pinned against the wall by a forceful shove.

"Where have you been?" Cyril's voice was low and seething with anger. He had come home early, expecting her, but she hadn't shown up all day.

The news of her unilateral move toward divorce only fueled his rage.

Viviane recoiled from the strong scent of alcohol on his breath, frowning in discomfort.

"I was at the hospital with my sister," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady in hopes of defusing his temper.

Cyril let out a derisive snort. "Oh, really? All day?"

His grip tightened on her chin, forcing her to meet his bloodshot, menacing eyes.

"You were with some other man, weren't you?"

Viviane's eyes widened, a mix of shock and hurt crossing her face. It was absurd! He had the audacity to accuse her, even though he was the one who had betrayed her trust first, letting another woman into his bed and humiliating her over the phone.

"You're drunk, Cyril." She attempted to push him away, but her efforts were feeble against his strength.

Instead of backing off, Cyril's hold just tightened, his fingers digging painfully into her wrists.

"I'm sober enough," he growled, a dangerous edge to his voice.

"You're my wife, so at least you should act like it!"

Suddenly, he scooped Viviane up and strode toward the bedroom, throwing her onto the bed. His face hovered over hers, eyes blazing with an untamed desire as he claimed her lips aggressively. The kiss was overpowering, leaving her breathless and conflicted.

Viviane was momentarily stunned, her hands pressing against his shoulders. Her mind screamed to resist, yet her body betrayed her with its response to Cyril's familiar touch.

Her breaths came quick and shallow. Despite her inner struggle, her body instinctively mirrored Cyril's movements, even as she protested weakly, "No... we can't..."

As Cyril sensed her yielding, a glint of satisfaction flashed through his eyes, ignoring her half-hearted protests.

He pinned her down, his kisses deep and dominating, sweeping her along in a tumult of desire and confusion.

With the memory of the divorce papers and Cyril's recent coldness, Viviane's resolve crumbled. If this was to be their last night, why not lose herself in the moment?

She began to respond to Cyril, drowning in the depth of her longing.

Feeling that she had given in, Cyril frowned, anger overtaking his desire.

He stared at her, his eyes filled with suspicion and rage. "Do you think playing the dutiful wife now will save your status and keep you spending my money? Don't be naive."

Viviane felt as if struck by lightning. She stared at him blankly, her voice trembling, "How can you think that of me? I've never been after your money..."

"Nice try," Cyril interrupted sharply. "You rush to notarize our divorce, then suddenly you're all affectionate. You think I can't see through your game?"

Viviane stared at him in disbelief. She couldn't understand how he knew about her notarizing the divorce papers.

His scorn grew as he watched her fluster, his voice icy.

"You think you can fool me that easily? I know about the divorce papers, and I'm aware of your plans to take a hefty slice of our assets. I paid for your sister's surgery out of respect for what we once had and pity for her plight. Is this how you repay me? Planning to take the money and run, leaving all this behind?"

Her lips quivering, Viviane struggled to find her voice. After a long while, she muttered, "I didn't... I only wanted to use the divorce settlement for Colita's surgery. I never meant to manipulate you."

Cyril looked at her dismissively as if she were nothing more than a scheming liar.

"You're expecting me to believe you after all this time? I know you well. You've always been about the money. Even that accident and saving my mother were all calculated from the start, just to make sure you could marry me and enjoy our wealth. Admit it!"

Viviane paled, tears brimming in her eyes as she shook her head desperately.

"That's not true, Cyril. I never wanted your money. I'll find a way to pay you back for Colita's surgery. As for me saving your mother, that was definitely not a scheme."

Cyril's face twisted with cynicism. "No? Your so-called sincerity is just a facade. Your family had set the trap ever since my mother's accident, and I was the fool who walked into it. And now you expect me to believe your lies?"

He had realized a year ago that what he thought was love and sincerity was nothing but a charade, a manipulation orchestrated from the start.

That car accident wasn't a coincidence or a mere mishap. It was a calculated move, a deliberate setup for favors in return!

The architect was the Merling family behind Viviane.

Since then, rage had clouded Cyril's ability to see Viviane for who she once was to him: an attractive and kind-hearted woman he had considered a worthy partner. Now, he couldn't stomach the idea of being duped by love, feeling like a fool every moment he spent with her, mocking his own sincerity.

Viviane closed her eyes in agony, her inability to prove her innocence only deepening her despair over the lack of trust from the man she lived with day in and day out.

After a moment, she opened her eyes, determination flickering within them. "No matter what you think, I'll talk to you after Colita's surgery. I need to show you that everything isn't as you think, and I'll find evidence to prove just how wrong you are."

Cyril snorted dismissively and strode out of the room, leaving Viviane alone on the bed, a picture of desolation and helplessness.

She stared at the ceiling, tears streaming down her face and soaking her pillow.