“Seriously? She’s bold enough to sit in your lap in public but suddenly gets shy about showing her shoulders?”
“Cut the crap. She’s just reserved.”
Lily Cartwright, basking in his defense, shot me a smug, taunting look.
“Mrs. Remington, it’s the New Year! Out with the old, in with the new—right? People move on. You should understand.”
The crowd jumped in, laughing nervously, nudging me to let it go.
“Mrs. Remington, it was just a stupid drinking game. Everyone’s wasted—things got a little wild. We’ll take three shots as punishment! Cut Max some slack, okay?”
I stayed silent.
Maxime didn’t even flinch, his voice laced with disapproval. “Why are you here? I told you to stay home and focus on the baby.”
His words sliced through me like broken glass.
I couldn’t believe this was the same man who’d once gushed over nursery colors with me—now standing beside another woman, brushing me off like some inconvenient ghost.
Tears spilled down my cheeks, but I clenched my trembling lips, forcing my voice steady. “Maxime Remington, you once said traitors get what they deserve.”
His expression darkened.
“Watch your mouth, Sophie. Lily and I are nothing serious. And let’s be honest—you’ve let yourself go. Pregnancy turned you into a bloated mess. I’ve been generous putting up with you in my bed.”
“And don’t act so high and mighty. No man in our circle stays faithful. At least I had the decency to plan on coming back to you after the baby.”
My hand flew to my belly, rage and grief twisting inside me.
Since getting pregnant, my body had betrayed me—swollen legs, relentless nausea, skin gone dull and rough. At first, Maxime pretended to care, but his patience vanished fast. Late nights at the office became his escape, his disgust at my stretch marks barely hidden.
For our child, I’d ignored it all, clinging to the hope that things would fix themselves after the birth.
But now? He was using my sacrifices as a weapon—mocking me while I suffered to give him a child.
Enough.
“Maxime Remington, I want a divorce.”
For the first time, his cool facade cracked. But his voice stayed steady. “And go where? Pregnant, divorced, with my kid? Be smart. Keep the peace, and the Remington name stays yours.”
Seeing my shattered expression, he softened slightly. “Behave, and I promise you’ll always be the mother of my children.”
Lily swayed her hips, pouting. “Max, don’t upset Mrs. Remington over me! She’s carrying your baby, after all.”
Maxime smirked, grabbing her waist. “Her? Pregnant or not, she’s just being dramatic.”
Watching them flirt right in front of me—like I wasn’t even there—made my stomach revolt.
Ugh. Blergh!
My vomit splattered across them. Lily’s designer coat—Maxime’s gift—was drenched in sour bile, the fabric probably ruined.
She ripped it off, eyes blazing. “You disgusting cow! You did that on purpose!”
I snapped. My palm cracked across her face. “Who the hell are you calling a cow?”
Furious, she shoved me with all her strength.
“Max, do something! She ruined my coat! The one you bought me!”
A waiter rushed over with a towel, but Maxime’s glare pinned me in place. “Sophie. Enough.”
