I Chose Me Over My Marriage novel Chapter 28

Now, there was nothing left but absolute disgust.

The lights were off.

When Maxwell stepped out of the bathroom, his hand instinctively reached for the wall switch.

Sensing his movement, Lyra spoke up softly. "Don't turn on the light."

She couldn't stomach the sight of his face.

For the first time ever, Maxwell didn't argue. He bypassed the switch and walked around to his side of the bed.

The moment the mattress dipped under his weight, Lyra's body turned to stone.

It wasn't nervousness.

It was pure, physical repulsion.

His familiar scent drifted toward her—a high-end cologne he wore religiously.

Lyra knew all too well why he loved that specific scent; she had accidentally discovered years ago that it was the very first gift Aria ever gave him.

He had cycled through dozens of designer brands since, but he never changed that specific fragrance profile.

When his warm palm settled on her waist, Lyra reacted as if she had been electrocuted, violently jerking upright.

The moonlight spilled through the sheer curtains, illuminating the room in a cold, silver glow.

Lyra glared down at him, her brow deeply furrowed.

"Stay away from me."

Maxwell's hand hovered in the empty space between them.

In the shadows, his eyes flashed with unmistakable fury.

"We are married."

Lyra let out a bitter scoff. "In name only."

They were getting a divorce. It was only a matter of time.

Throwing off the covers, Lyra swung her legs over the edge, her bare feet hitting the freezing hardwood floor.

"Maxwell, you used my grandmother's heirloom to force me to stay, and I agreed. But get this through your head—my mind is made up."

She paused, her voice dropping to a glacial chill.

"You can trap me here for a moment, but you can't trap me for a lifetime."

"Grandma," she choked out. "I'm sorry. I'm such a failure."

She had completely destroyed the marriage she had sacrificed everything for, and she had alienated her entire family in the process.

She was no longer the granddaughter her grandmother had been so incredibly proud of.

Meanwhile.

Back in the master bedroom.

Maxwell stood by the window, taking a harsh drag from a freshly lit cigarette before immediately crushing it out.

Climbing to the top of the Metropolis elite meant endless social events filled with alcohol and smoke.

But in his private life, he despised smoking.

He hated the feeling of being dependent on something he couldn't control.

When the light flickered off under the guest room door down the hall, Maxwell finally turned back to the bed.

The other half of the mattress was completely empty. The sweet scent of her was gone, leaving nothing but a vast, freezing expanse of sheets.

He closed his eyes, but Lyra's relentless, unyielding stare played on a loop in his mind, stabbing into his chest like a barrage of tiny needles.