The Unwavering Heart That Broke novel Chapter 37

Nathalie’s eyes were getting redder. “Let go of me!”

Lance stood up, his gaze dark and steady on her. “Calm down, and I will.”

She let out a harsh laugh, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. She yanked her hand back. “Lance, I must have been out of my mind. How did I ever fall for you?”

Lance’s face hardened. Nathalie had rushed in talking nonsense, tried to hit someone, and now she was acting like she regretted ever loving him. It left him feeling raw and frustrated.

“If you’re upset, take it out on me. But stop throwing punches,” he said, voice low.

Nathalie didn’t even hesitate. Her palm landed on his cheek with a sharp crack.

“Lance!”

Felice let out a cry and hurried over, staring at Nathalie, wide-eyed. “Nathalie, why’d you hit him? What did he ever do to you?”

“You’re both disgusting,” Nathalie shot back, stepping away. “Lance, I’m filing for divorce. Just thinking about being married to you makes me sick.”

She wiped at her eyes, turned, and walked out.

“Nathalie!”

Lance struggled out of bed, trying to catch up, but his body was still weak. He stumbled, almost falling.

Felice rushed to steady him. “Lance, don’t chase after her! You need to rest. Let me go talk to her. I’m sure there’s been some huge misunderstanding.”

A wave of dizziness washed over Lance, and he sat at the edge of the bed, breathing hard. “Felice, don’t bother.”

Felice bit her lip, her worry clear. “But she’s serious about divorce. We can’t just let that happen.”

A vein pulsed at Lance’s temple. He pressed his eyes closed, his voice deep and cold. “No one will take her case. Trying would mean going up against me.”

Felice’s eyes flashed something dark for a split second, then she relaxed.

“Good, as long as you two don’t actually get divorced. If you split up because of me, I’d feel awful.”

He could forget the eight years they spent together, but how could he forget that she’d saved his life?

She wandered the street, her eyes empty, barely aware of where she was going.

A car horn blared. Suddenly, a silver Maybach slammed to a stop right next to her.

The driver threw open the door. “Miss, are you trying to get yourself killed? Watch where you walk!”

Nathalie blinked, realizing she’d wandered right into traffic. She took a shaky step back. “Sorry…”

Just then, the rear window slid down. “Nathalie? Is that you?”

She hesitated, confused. “Who are you?”

The back door swung open and a tall man climbed out, a friendly smile on his face. “It’s Fabian. Don’t tell me you forgot me already. I’m Lance’s friend. Remember? I was the guy who delivered your love letter back then. Seriously, you don’t remember?”