When She Ended It With Divorce (Chiara and Titus) novel Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The television blared with urgency, the anchor’s voice slicing through the quiet hospital room. “Breaking news: Celebrity dancer Elaine Jensen was spotted entering and leaving a hotel with a man in an intimate manner. It appears their romance is now out in the open.”

Chiara Lynch’s eyes flicked up from the magazine she had been absently flipping through. Her heart clenched when she recognized the man in the photo—her husband, Titus Goodman.

“Ouch!” she muttered, glancing down at her finger, which she had just accidentally nicked with a kitchen knife. She instinctively pressed it to her lips, tasting the sharp sting of blood.

While others might not have recognized him, Chiara’s certainty was unwavering. She had loved Titus since their high school days, and no stranger could deceive her.

Suddenly, everything from the past few days fell into place. As she had been losing sleep, consumed by worry over her grandfather’s worsening condition, Titus had been out there—entangled with some dancer.

Just then, the hospital room door swung open with a soft creak. Chiara turned sharply and saw Titus standing there, a sight she hadn’t witnessed in two long weeks. Her body tensed, unsure how to respond.

Titus’s gaze briefly met hers before shifting to the frail figure lying unconscious in the bed—Marcus, her grandfather.

“I’ve arranged for a top specialist from overseas. He’ll be here tomorrow,” Titus said evenly, his voice devoid of warmth.

Chiara’s eyes dropped to the floor. She barely whispered a “thanks” before falling into silence.

Caught off guard by her quietness, Titus hesitated, then finally looked back at her.

The news report continued playing softly on the television behind them. Titus didn’t glance up; he had already seen it earlier. Instead, he raised an eyebrow, reached out, and gently tilted her chin upward.

“You’re angry, aren’t you?” His deep eyes searched her face, trying to read her emotions.

Chiara’s gaze faltered. Fatigue was etched into every line of her face—her skin pale, her frame noticeably thinner. Forced to meet his eyes, she appeared fragile, almost broken.

For a fleeting moment, she nearly blurted out, “Do I even have the right to be angry?” But she swallowed the words.

“No…” she whispered, barely audible.

Titus’s eyes darkened as he took in her vulnerability. Leaning in closer, his fingers traced the delicate curve of her jaw.

“Then why the sad puppy look?” he teased softly, a hint of amusement flickering in his voice.

Chiara knew him too well. She could sense the storm brewing beneath his calm exterior.

For three years, as Mrs. Goodman, she had played the perfect wife—careful, gentle, never challenging him. That was why he had kept her around, why their marriage had lasted this long.

Titus’s gaze drifted to her lips, a soft pink against her pale skin. His thumb pressed lightly against them.

Chiara’s breath hitched. Her lashes fluttered as she met his inscrutable gaze.

She understood exactly what that look meant. After a brief hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck, closed her eyes, and leaned into him.

Titus narrowed his eyes, lifting her effortlessly onto his lap. One hand cradled the back of her head, the other tightened around her waist.

His kiss was intense—demanding and possessive. Within moments, Chiara was breathless, her clothes rumpled and disheveled.

When his hand began to wander, she grasped his wrist, her breath shaky.

“Not here, please,” she whispered, voice trembling.

He caught the message immediately. Neither of them wanted to be caught in a hospital room. Without hesitation, he carried her into the next room.

An hour later, their passion spent, Chiara sat against the bed, clutching the sheets, watching Titus emerge from the bathroom.

His clothes were slightly tousled, but his cold, handsome face remained unchanged, as if he hadn’t just been consumed by desire.

In contrast, she looked like a mess—disheveled and worn.

Adjusting his cuffs, Titus glanced toward her. “Ready to go home?”

Chiara nodded, though her mind was still swirling. “Titus, we need to talk…”

Before she could say more, his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen, answered, and within seconds, his expression darkened. He hung up and headed for the door.

Chiara knew who had called. Of course, he wasn’t sticking around to listen.

“Honey, I…” she started.

But Titus had already flung open the hospital door. Without looking back, he tossed over a cold remark. “I’ll have someone send the money later.”

Chiara didn’t try to stop him. She simply watched as he walked away.

An hour passed before Paul Lambert, Titus’s assistant, arrived.

“Mrs. Goodman, here’s the check you requested,” he said, handing over the envelope.

Chiara stared at the check, her arm feeling numb. They were married. Yet, right after being intimate, he sent his assistant with a check.

Just then, the TV blared another breaking story: Elaine’s boyfriend was Titus, CEO of Goodman Group. He had personally whisked her away from reporters at the airport.

Paul caught the news and awkwardly glanced at Chiara.

“Um, the check…” he mumbled, hesitating.

Forcing a bitter smile, Chiara looked up at him and took the check. “Feels like I’m getting paid for sex.”

Paul was stunned. How was he supposed to respond? Despite being out of favor, she was still Mrs. Goodman.

Clearing his throat, he said cautiously, “Mrs. Goodman, you can’t be serious. You’re Mr. Goodman’s legal wife.”

“Legal wife?” Chiara scoffed. “Who even knows that?”

Paul fell silent, clearly uncomfortable. He quickly excused himself and left.

Clutching the check, Chiara called her older sister. “Heather, I got the money,” she said quietly.

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