The Plane Tickets He Hoarded The Wife He Hid novel Chapter 270

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Zain’s POV

I drove toward the movie theater, timing my arrival just as the film wrapped up. Couples poured out of the building in waves.

Young pairs walked hand in hand, looking cozy and flirtatious. Some got bold enough to keep making out right there on the sidewalk.

Watching the scene, I couldn’t stop myself from imagining Blanche and Vincent inside that theater— were they kissing too?

Based on the showtime, they’d probably caught a

horror movie.

And honestly, whoever pitched the horror flick definitely had ulterior motives.

I stood by the curb, getting more pissed off with every passing second.

Finally, I spotted Blanche and Vincent emerging from the lobby together after the crowd cleared out.

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The night air was freezing, and the moment they stepped outside, Vincent slipped his jacket around Blanche’s shoulders.

+100

Before Blanche could even say thanks, I stormed over, my face stone cold and my eyes blazing with fury. My glare cut through the air like a blade.

“Carry’s lying sick in the hospital, and you’re here watching movies with another man?” I snapped, each word dripping with accusation.

I didn’t waste time with pleasantries–straight to the attack.

Blanche glanced my way, a slight smirk playing at her lips as she shot back, “She doesn’t even consider me her mother, so why can’t I catch a movie?”

I scowled, barking out, “Come with me to see Carry at the hospital. Final offer.”

Blanche didn’t hesitate. “Not happening. I’m not going.”

Seeing her resistance, I stepped forward and reached for her hand.

But the second I moved, Vincent knocked my hand

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away.

At the same time, Vincent stepped between us, blocking Blanche from view, and shot me an icy stare. “What’s your problem now?”

I finally turned to Vincent, letting out a harsh laugh. “In case you forgot–she’s still my wife.”

Vincent fired back with a mocking grin that mirrored mine. “I thought your wife was Joanna, or did you forget that detail too?”

My expression darkened–it wasn’t often anyone got me this fired up. I moved closer, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Want me to wave the marriage certificate in your face?”

Vincent stood his ground, completely unshaken. Actually, seeing me lose control seemed to amuse him

even more.

He gave me a taunting look and drawled, “No thanks. But if you’ve got divorce papers to flash around, now that I’d love to see.”

Vincent’s jab cooled my anger instantly. I flashed a

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cold, mocking smile and gave him a look of pure disdain. “What makes you think I’m divorcing her? And when did you get the idea I’d ever let you two end up together?”

Vincent finally snapped. He grabbed me by the collar, his face turning thunderous. “Say that again, Zain.”

I raised an eyebrow, repeating calmly, “I said, what makes you think I’d divorce her? And why would I let you two be together?”

At that, Vincent lost it completely, his eyes blazing with rage. He shouted at me, “Haven’t you screwed her over enough? What more do you want from her?”

With that, he raised his fist, ready to swing.

But I wasn’t about to stand there and let Vincent take

a shot at me.

It looked like we were about to throw down.

Blanche’s POV

Worried things might really spiral out of control, I

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quickly stepped forward and grabbed Vincent’s arm. “Vincent, let me talk to him. Just the two of us,” I said quietly.

Vincent’s eyes burned red as he glared at me, his voice tight with anger. “What’s there to discuss? Someone like him doesn’t give a damn what you say—he’ll just think you’re spouting bullshit.”

I felt anxiety coil in my stomach. I worried that if Vincent kept provoking Zain, it would only push him further over the edge.

If Zain really refused to go through with the divorce,

what would I do?

As things threatened to explode, I shouted at Vincent, “Vincent, he’s still my husband–officially! If I don’t talk to him, who am I supposed to talk to? You?”

I could sense Zain’s anger simmering just beneath the surface. If I wanted the divorce to happen, I’d have to sweet–talk him and play nice, whether I liked it or not.

If he suddenly changed his mind and refused to go through with it once the cooling–off period ended, I’d be completely screwed.

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When Vincent heard me say that, he stared at me, completely stunned–shock and surprise written all over his face.

I didn’t even look at him, my tone cold and

commanding as I bit out, “This is my problem–stay out of it.”

Vincent’s fury skyrocketed, his eyes blazing as he snapped at me, “You really love him that much? After everything he’s done, you’re still taking his side?”

Seeing Vincent so worked up made me feel like garbage, but honestly, letting Zain lose his cool now would be a complete disaster.

I could only go along with Vincent’s accusation. “Yeah, he’s my husband, after all. If I’m not taking his side, should I take yours instead?”

Hearing that, Vincent shoved Zain away and let out a bitter, self–mocking laugh. “Right. I really am a fucking idiot. Just a damn fool.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, he spun around and stalked off.

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But halfway there, something made him stop and turn back. He reached out, about to snatch his jacket off my shoulders–‘What does she have to do with me now, anyway?‘ he seemed to think, but his hand froze in midair. In the end, he just couldn’t bring himself to take it back.

Pissed off and annoyed at himself, Vincent let out a frustrated snort and stormed off again.

I watched him walk away, an ache twisting in my chest. I instinctively wanted to call his name, but the words caught in my throat and never made it out.

But what I really needed to worry about now was Zain.

After the divorce was final, none of this would matter

anymore.

But until then, we were still married.

If Vincent pushed Zain too far, he might really refuse to go through with the divorce–and then I’d be truly stuck.

‘If Zain really dug in his heels and refused the divorce, I’d be completely screwed. No way–it’s just not worth

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poking the bear,‘ I thought, anxiety gnawing at me.

After Vincent finally stormed off, I turned to Zain and said, “Let’s go. I’m coming with you to the hospital.”

Zain shot me a look, his voice dropping into a mocking drawl. “You kept watching him leave–what, can’t bear to let him go?”

I avoided picking a fight, heading for his car as I

replied, “It’s not like that. There’s nothing between us, really.”

Just as I was about to get into the back seat, Zain barked, “Get in the front.”

I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to tough it out. ‘Once the divorce comes through, I won’t have to put up with this crap anymore, I told myself.

I shut the back door and climbed into the passenger seat up front.

Zain walked over, but instead of getting in the driver’s seat, he opened the passenger side door and leaned in to buckle my seatbelt.

As he bent down, I could smell his cologne mixed with

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something else–a woman’s perfume, sweet and unmistakable.

I’d smelled that scent on him more than once before.

So I knew, before coming here, Zain must’ve been with

Joanna.

Back when I still cared, even thinking about it would’ve torn me up inside.

But now, it barely fazed me.

All I wanted was to get through this last bit of the divorce, nice and easy–no more drama, please.

After that, we could each go our own way and live however we wanted. Peace out, no strings attached.

As those thoughts drifted through my mind, Zain finished buckling my seatbelt, then suddenly leaned in so close I could feel his breath—his intense gaze fixed on my lips, not looking away for a second.

For that one brief moment, I felt a jolt of panic–my heart racing wildly against my chest.

I instinctively turned my head aside, my voice barely

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more than a murmur. “Carry’s still at the hospital. Let’s

get going.”

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