I Want A Divorce Novel – The TV news blared, “Breaking news: Celebrity dancer Elaine Jensen caught entering and leaving a hotel with a man intimately. Looks like their love went public.” Chiara Lynch glanced up, instantly recognizing the guy in the photo—her husband, Titus Goodman. “Ouch!” She looked down at her finger, which she’d just accidentally sliced with a knife, and stuck it in her mouth.
Other people might not recognize him, but Chiara was certain. After all, she’d been loving him since high school. The past few days made sense now. While she’d been losing sleep and worrying about her grandfather’s declining health, he’d been playing around with some dancer. Just then, the hospital room door swung open. Chiara turned and saw Titus, whom she hadn’t seen in two weeks. She froze, unsure how to react.
Titus glanced at her before stepping inside, his eyes landing on Chiara’s grandfather, Marcus, who lay unconscious on the bed. “I’ve arranged for a top specialist from abroad. He’ll be here tomorrow,” Titus said, his voice flat. Chiara dropped her gaze, mumbled a quiet “thanks,” and fell silent. Titus paused, caught off guard by her silence. Finally, he looked at her. Right then, the news report played again in the background.
He didn’t even glance up—he’d already seen it earlier. He just arched a brow, reached out, and tilted her chin up. “You’re angry?” he asked, his deep eyes studying her delicate features. Chiara’s eyes wavered. Exhaustion was written all over her—pale skin, thinner frame. Forced to meet his gaze, she looked fragile and broken. For a split second, she almost blurted out, “Do I even have the right to be angry?” But she caught herself. “No…” she whispered, barely audible.
Titus’ gaze darkened as he took in her vulnerability. Leaning closer, he lifted her chin, his fingers tracing her skin. “Then what’s with this sad puppy look?” he asked. His voice was calm, but there was a hint of teasing in it. Chiara knew him too well, and she could sense his foul mood instantly. For three years as Mrs. Goodman, she’d been the perfect wife, always careful, gentle, never pushing back. That was why he’d kept her around, and why their marriage had lasted this long.
Titus looked at her lips—a faint red against her tender skin. His gaze grew heavier, his thumb pressing against those lips. Chiara’s breath caught, her lashes fluttering as she looked up, meeting his unreadable eyes. She knew exactly what that look meant. After a brief hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck, closed her eyes, and leaned in. Titus narrowed his eyes, lifting her onto his lap. One hand cradled her head, the other locked around her waist.
His kiss was as intense as he was, demanding, possessive. Within moments, Chiara was breathless, her clothes disheveled. When his hand started wandering, she grabbed his wrist, her breathing ragged. “Not here, please,” she whispered, her voice shaking. Titus got the message. He wasn’t into hospital hookups either. Without missing a beat, he carried her into the next room. Soon, an hour of passion passed. Chiara sat against the bed while gripping the sheets, watching as Titus walked out of the bathroom.
His clothes were just a little rumpled, his face still as handsome and cold as ever, like he hadn’t gone wild for her moments ago. Meanwhile, she looked utterly disheveled, a total wreck compared to him. Adjusting his cuffs, Titus glanced her way. “Ready to go home?” Chiara nodded, but something was still on her mind. “Titus, we need to talk…” Before she could finish, Titus’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen, answered, and within seconds, his face darkened. He hung up and headed for the door.
Chiara knew who called, and of course, he wasn’t sticking around to hear her out. “Honey, I…” she started. Titus had already yanked open the hospital door. Without looking back, he tossed out a cold line. “I’ll have someone send the money later.” Chiara didn’t try to stop him. She just watched a