No Second Baby No You Only Divorce (Scarlett and Vincent) novel Chapter 722

Daniel didn't say a word. He simply leaned in and kissed Sabrina squarely on the lips, pulling her tightly against his chest so she couldn't pull away.

Sabrina let out a soft whimper. "Daniel... I'm with Vincent. What do you think you're doing?"

But Daniel wasn't listening. He cupped her face in his hands, pressed his forehead gently to hers, and lowered his voice. "You may think of yourself as his, but does he see you that way?"

His words made Sabrina think of how Vincent had just treated her. For a moment, she wavered.

And in that moment of hesitation, Daniel bent down, lifted her into his arms, and brought her face level with his.

This time, his kiss wasn't rough. It was slow, tender, lingering—trailing from her lips to her cheek, her ear, down to her collarbone.

Sabrina moaned softly. "Daniel... stop."

But her plea only seemed to fuel him. It drove him wild.

He carried her over to the entryway, set her down gently, and leaned close, his forehead still against hers, breathing heavily. "Stay with me. I'll treat you right."

*****

When Vincent returned home, he went straight upstairs without a word to anyone.

Once inside his study, he swept his arm across the desk in a burst of anger, sending papers flying everywhere.

And there, amid the scattered mess on the floor, was a clearly visible divorce agreement.

When Vincent spotted it, he couldn't help but stoop down and pick it up.

Holding it in his hands, the reality of it finally sank in.

Back when Scarlett first asked for a divorce, he'd thought she was just bluffing.

But now it occurred to him—maybe she'd been wanting to leave for a long time.

He opened the document and read it, line by line.

When he finished, he let out a cold, humorless laugh.

Scarlett had always loved Vanessa so much, yet to get away from him, she'd given her up just like that.

The thought made him tear the agreement to pieces.

Once done, he tossed the shreds into the air. They fluttered down around him, some landing on his shoulders and hair.

Vincent pulled out his phone and checked it several times. No messages. No missed calls from Scarlett.

After a moment, he switched it to silent and tossed it onto the sofa.

If she didn't want to reach out, then when she finally did, he'd let her sweat it out.

But... would she ever reach out again?

Feeling restless, Vincent fetched a glass and poured himself some red wine.

He didn't sip it—he downed it in one go.

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