Chapter 31
Chapter 31
Yolanda nodded, pressing closer. Even through the haze, she could tell Jan’s body was flawless, every line of him powerful.
And what he meant was something else entirely.
Yolanda stayed silent. Outside, the rain continued its relentless rhythm, and the curtains swayed in the damp breeze. Suddenly, she shoved him away,
Ian sank onto the bed, the dim glow of the bedside lamp casting long slndows across the room.
Yolanda’s cheeks burned. She clutched her coat tighter, her fingers trembling.
He had changed into loose black track pants earlier when he’d stepped out. Now, he studied her, voice low. “More water?”
Sweat slicked her palms. Her thoughts spun, What do I do now?”
He held the cup to her lips, his face striking in the muted light.
She couldn’t bring herself to drink. Shame coiled in her stomach.
When she didn’t move, lan set the cup down. He sat beside her, hesitating before muttering, “Sorry”
Her heart stuttered. She exhaled sharply. She was the one who’d been drugged and lost control–why was he apologizing? Fragments of memory surfaced: her pleading and his restraint.
Fingers twisting the blanket, she swallowed. “I’m the one who should apologize. Just… give me a second.”
This had spiraled beyond anything she’d imagined. ‘How could I even look at him now?‘ She pressed her palms to her temples.
Then, through the fog, his voice came again, hesitant. “None of the films I did before had kissing scenes.”
She glanced over. He was crushing the water bottle in his grip, his discomfort palpable. The plastic crackled loudly in the quiet room, crumpling under his fingers.
A thought struck Yolanda: the kiss they shared maybe was his first one. She sat frozen, her shirt half- unbuttoned
Suddenly, he leaned over and kissed her softly. “I mean, I’m pure,” he said abruptly. Then he stood, scooped her pants off the floor, and laid them on the bed.
She opened her mouth, but no words came.
The inner door clicked open. He left without another word. The entire floor was rented by the crew, though. Maybe he had to stay in the hallways.
Yolanda lay there for what felt like hours, torn between mortification and the urge to slap herself. Finally, she
7:42 Thu, Sep 11
Chapter 31
dragged herself up and fled to the shower.
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After her shower, she felt refreshed, the exhaustion washing away. She turned up the lights, as if brightness could dissolve the lingering awkwardness.
Outside, rain drummed against the windows. The memory of how her hands cradled lan’s face and that impulsive first kiss rushed back.
She buried her face in her palms, cheeks burning. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake it from her mind. She’d been dazed at the time, but she remembered how desperately he’d tried to please her.
Yolanda pushed open the window, letting the cool night air rush in. Finally, her thoughts settled.
Then her phone rang. It was nine at night, later than she’d ever stayed out before. She took a steadying breath and glanced at Charles’s name. A flicker of guilt tightened in her chest. Anyway, she answered.
“Where are you?” His voice was sharp.
Yolanda replied with that sweet, satisfied tone, “At the studio. Megan was discharged today. We’re going over
our next steps.
He didn’t press further, just tossed his loosened tie aside. That suit you pressed for me last month, remember? Where is it?”
Yolanda looked down. The light brown one–Charles rarely wore anything so casual. He preferred dark, steady tones with nothing flashy. She answered. “It’s in the dust bag on the far right of your closet.
A cabinet door clicked open on his end. A beat of silence, and then his voice softened. “You remember every little thing, don’t you? I’ve got a short trip coming up. Next time, don’t stay out so late.”
He sounded in a good mood tonight, probably because the deal with Samuel had gone well.
Yolanda listened to the rain drumming against the window and seized the opening. “Honey, the studio’s just getting off the ground. I might be busier from now on.”
Charles lit a cigarette, raking a hand through his hair. Fresh scratches ran down his back. Those wild, careless marks came from someone who wasn’t his wife.
He knew what she was really asking for: freedom, experience, a life outside their home. But in his mind, she didn’t need it. She hadn’t suffered enough to understand the world.
Yolanda didn’t wait for his refusal; she already knew it. Charles had that old–school pride buried deep. Mistresses were for fun, while wives were for keeping
Sure enough, he finally said. “Yolanda, don’t do it again.”
Her grip tightened around the phone. The unfairness of it stung–he’d disappear for months with other women, yet she couldn’t even stay out late once. She drew a slow breath.
His voice cut through again, colder now. The Grant family married you off to me because you were obedient. That’s what I expect from my wife–quiet, at home. Business isn’t a woman’s concern.”
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Chapter 31
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A long drag of his cigarette. The silence stretched, uneasy. He’d grown too used to her waiting, like a pet, dependable and tame. Maybe he’d indulged her too much.
“I’ll bring you a gift when I’m back,” he said, softer now. “Just stay home.”
Yolanda pressed her lips together and said nothing.
When the call ended, she stared out at the storm, exhaling slowly.
The rain had finally stopped by dawn. When Yolanda came downstairs et 6 a.m., she found lan sprawled awkwardly across a lobby chair, a book draped over his face like a makeshift sleep mask.
The dim lighting and dozing receptionist gave the space a hushed stillness. His long legs dangled uncomfortably over the chair’s edge–he was too tall for the cramped furniture.
She approached quietly and lifted the book from his face. His striking features, relaxed in sleep, made her pulse stutter.
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
Part 1: The Discovery of BetrayalYolanda Grant’s marriage was built on patience, sacrifice, and quiet endurance — but that illusion shattered in one night. It was late when she arrived at a dark, empty alley after receiving a mysterious message with an address. At first, she thought it was a misunderstanding. After all, her husband Charles Sinclair — a man of wealth, power, and refined taste — would never lower himself to something so vulgar. But when she saw him holding a young woman in his arms, kissing and touching her like a man possessed, every ounce of denial drained from her. Charles, the proud and disciplined businessman, was cheating — and in a filthy alleyway, no less.Part 2: The Scene of HumiliationFrom the safety of her car, Yolanda watched as the scene unfolded. The woman clinging to Charles was frail, trembling, and emotional, like a flower blooming in the mud. The surroundings — the stained floor, damp walls, and suffocating darkness — mocked everything Charles had always claimed to be. This wasn’t just infidelity; it was degradation. Yolanda’s mind swirled with disbelief. Her husband, who obsessed over class and perfection, had become a man of impulse and dirt. She didn’t confront him or make a scene; she didn’t even cry. Instead, she leaned back in her seat, numb, realizing that her marriage was already over in spirit.Part 3: Two Years of DevotionAs she sat there, flashes of the past flooded her mind. Two years of marriage — two years of her trying to please him in every way. She had known from the start that Charles didn’t love her. On their wedding day, he had made it painfully clear that his heart already belonged to another woman. Still, Yolanda married him out of hope, out of love, out of the foolish belief that devotion could melt even the coldest heart. She gave up her career, her ambitions, and her independence, just to prove she was worthy of him. She cared for him like a nurse for her patient — cooking his meals, planning his wardrobe, and tending to every detail of his life. And in return, she got nothing but distance and silence.Part 4: The Breaking PointNow, watching him entwined with another woman, everything she had built inside her — the patience, the sacrifice, the illusion — collapsed. The man she had once called her husband had become unrecognizable. He had torn off his noble mask and revealed himself as nothing more than a beast driven by desire. Yolanda felt like she’d been slapped, her dignity shattered into pieces. But instead of screaming or crying, she felt an eerie calm. Her pain was too deep to express. All she could think was: This marriage must end.Part 5: Charles’s UneaseWhile Yolanda drove home, Charles suddenly sensed that something was wrong. The headlights of a passing car illuminated his face, and a chill ran down his spine. He didn’t know whose car it was, but unease stirred in his chest. The girl in his arms whimpered for his attention, but his mind was already elsewhere. Straightening his clothes, he pulled away coldly. “That’s enough for tonight,” he said flatly. “The company’s got big projects. I can’t afford divorce rumors right now.” His words revealed not love, but calculation — every move guided by image and control. The girl, blinded by her feelings, agreed softly, claiming she would wait. But to Charles, it was just another temporary indulgence.Part 6: The Return HomeWhen Yolanda returned home, the villa felt colder than ever. She had just come out of the shower when Charles entered the bedroom, carrying his jacket. He looked as immaculate as always — tall, handsome, commanding — but tonight, his arrogance seemed cruel. On his pristine white shirt, Yolanda noticed a faint smear of pink lip gloss. She had never worn lip gloss; she hated its stickiness. That small, shiny mark told her everything she needed to know. As she dried her hair, she kept her expression neutral, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing her pain.Part 7: The Cold ConversationCharles glanced at her and asked casually, “When did you get back?”“This afternoon,” she replied.He loosened his tie, unbuttoning his shirt as if nothing had happened. “I was out playing golf tonight,” he added. The lie rolled off his tongue effortlessly. Through the reflection in the window, Yolanda saw the dirt on his back — proof that golf wasn’t the only game he’d been playing. With quiet fury, she shot back, “Then I guess you scored plenty of holes. Congrats.”Her sarcasm caught him off guard. For the first time, he frowned, slightly unsettled. He wasn’t used to this tone from her — the woman who once worshiped him now sounded indifferent, almost mocking.Part 8: His Cruel ArroganceInstead of apologizing, Charles smirked and wrapped his arm around her waist. “Are you mad? I told you when we got married that I didn’t love you. If you’re that unhappy, find someone else to cheat with.” His words cut through her like a blade. It wasn’t just betrayal anymore — it was humiliation. He treated her heartbreak as an inconvenience, as if her pain were irrelevant. Inside, Yolanda’s chest felt like it was being strangled with wire, every breath searing. Yet she stayed silent. Her quietness, once a sign of love, now turned into armor.Part 9: The Memory of InnocenceIn that moment, Yolanda’s mind drifted back to when she first met Charles. She was young, freshly adopted into the Grant family, and he was already the picture of perfection — disciplined, confident, untouchable. Back then, she looked at him with admiration and love. To her, he was everything she aspired to be. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that this same man would someday make her feel worthless. All those years of love, of marriage, of giving — they now felt like a cruel joke.Part 10: A New Beginning Hidden in the Word “Fine”Charles chuckled when she finally said, “Fine.” To him, it was just another empty threat, another outburst that would fade with time. He kissed her cheek, confident that her love would keep her shackled to him forever. What he didn’t realize was that this time, “Fine” wasn’t surrender — it was goodbye. Behind her calm eyes, Yolanda had already made her decision. The love that once bound her had turned to ash, and from that ash, something new was forming — strength.Chapter 1 ends with Yolanda’s quiet determination to take back her life. She won’t cry or beg anymore. This time, she’ll walk away — not as a broken wife, but as a woman reborn through betrayal.
