Part 2The CEO's Ex-Wife Is Better Off Without His Cheating Ass

That night, as expected, Julian didn't come home.

But I saw him the next day at the university’s alumni homecoming. He was on stage, holding Claire’s hand as they presented a large donation. I stood in the audience and listened as he shamelessly introduced her to the host as "the most important person in my life."

In that moment, I felt a wave of relief that I had honored his request for a "low-key" wedding and hadn't invited a single friend from college.

As if sensing my presence, he turned his head, and his eyes met mine across the crowd. A frown creased his brow, but his hand remained firmly clasped around Claire’s.

A bitter taste filled my mouth. I lowered my head and walked away, heading toward the grassy banks of Mirror Lake on campus.

Footsteps followed me.

“You came to the homecoming? Why didn’t you tell me? I would have picked you up.”

No mention of holding her hand. No explanation. No flicker of panic at being caught.

A sardonic laugh escaped me. “Is there even room for me in your car anymore?”

Julian rubbed the bridge of his nose, a picture of weary frustration. “Liv, do you have to be so aggressive? What happened to the considerate, understanding woman I know?”

The woman I used to be? What was she like? She worshipped him as the god who had pulled her from the mire. His smile was her sun, his frown her storm. Her entire world revolved around him, a self-erased satellite in his orbit.

Honestly, if Julian had just told me he wanted to be with Claire, I would have stepped aside. I knew from the start that our marriage was just a spiteful rebound on his part, a way to get back at her after they broke up. I was the secret admirer who saw it all unfold and willingly walked into the trap.

Now that their old flame was rekindled, he should have been pushing me out the door. His deliberate avoidance of the topic was something I just couldn't understand.

“Julian, there you are!” Claire’s voice called out. She approached us, navigating the soft grass in her high heels. She feigned surprise at seeing me. “Oh, Olivia, you’re here too?”

She walked right up to Julian, straightening his collar with a familiar ease. “The dean is looking for you for a photo. We should head back.”

Julian glanced at me, waiting for a response I wouldn’t give. He sighed, then said, “Wait for me. We’ll leave together.”

“Don’t you have that conference call to rush back for?” Claire reminded him with a sweet smile, then turned to me, her voice dripping with mock apology. “I’m afraid you’ll have to get a cab home, Olivia.”

Julian hesitated.

Suddenly, Claire shrieked, “A snake!”

In a flash, Julian shoved me aside. He scooped a frantic Claire into his arms and sprinted toward the safety of the paved path.

And me, standing right at the water's edge, I was the one he pushed. The shove sent me stumbling backward, right off the bank and into the lake.

The summer water of Mirror Lake should have been warm. But as it closed over me, it felt bone-chillingly cold, a frigid shock that seeped into my very marrow.

Through the shimmering surface, I saw Julian’s eyes—wide with guilt and panic. He started rushing toward me, but I had already scrambled back onto the bank before he could reach me.

“Liv, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see…”

I managed a weak smile. “It’s fine. I’m used to it.”

Without another glance, I turned and walked away, my body and soul dripping with a cold I couldn't shake.

I saw Julian’s fists clench at his sides. For the first time, he looked as if he realized I was slipping away, truly out of his reach. He started to follow, but a glance back at the still-trembling Claire stopped him.

Instead, a text message arrived: Go home first. I’ll explain later.

I let out a hollow scoff.

Explain what? That his first instinct was to protect her? Or that his solution was to throw me into a lake?

Whichever it was, I didn't want to hear it. I was tired of his self-serving lies.

That evening, a troubled Julian came home early for once. He found the kitchen cold and dark, me quietly eating takeout on the couch. A strange sense of relief seemed to settle over him.

“Is this how you take care of yourself when I’m not here?” he murmured, his tone chiding but gentle. “We should hire a housekeeper. There’s too much to do around here. It breaks my heart to see you so tired.”

My hand, holding my fork, paused mid-air.

What a considerate, caring husband.

These were the exact kinds of empty pleasantries he’d used to make me believe that, over time, he’d actually fallen for me. They were the reason I had become so hopelessly dependent on him.

But a lie is still a lie.

I wiped my mouth and spoke, my voice steady. “Let’s get a divorce.”