When She Ended It With Divorce (Chiara and Titus) novel Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Paul quickly stepped forward, positioning himself to block Heather’s path, while Titus unceremoniously shoved Chiara into the back seat of the car. The door slammed shut with a sharp thud.

Heather opened her mouth to object, but before she could speak, the window rolled down just enough for Titus’s voice to slice through the tension. “Since when did I lose the right to take my wife with me?”

Heather knew she had no legal standing to argue. Chiara was still married to Titus, and no one could legitimately prevent him from bringing her along.

Even Chiara’s own resistance wouldn’t change the outcome.

Heather was forced to confront the harsh reality—power always won in this world.

The window rose back up, concealing everything inside from view.

As the car shifted forward, a flicker of concern crossed Heather’s face.

Paul slid into the passenger seat, his foot slamming down on the accelerator, and the vehicle sped away.

“Stop the car. I want out,” Chiara said, her voice eerily calm. The initial shock and rage had faded, replaced by a cold, dangerous resolve.

Titus’s face darkened into a stormy scowl. He leaned forward, rapping his knuckles sharply against the back of Paul’s headrest.

Paul caught the silent command immediately and raised the privacy partition between the front and back seats.

Once the barrier was in place, Titus pulled Chiara onto his lap, his fingers moving to undo the buttons of her blouse.

Chiara slapped his hand away with a sharp crack that echoed in the confined space. “Get your hands off me.”

Titus’s eyes dropped to the red mark left on his skin, evidence of the strength behind her strike.

Then his gaze met hers, taking in the unshed tears and the fiery anger burning in her eyes. He exhaled slowly, controlling his breath. “You always save your worst for me, don’t you?”

A bitter, scornful laugh escaped Chiara’s lips. “There’s plenty more where that came from. Want to find out?”

Her words hit him like a physical blow. He grabbed her chin, jaw clenched tightly. “She’s got a leg injury. If something happens, which one of us do you think will be held responsible?”

A cold shiver ran through Chiara. “I can’t take that responsibility, but you can. Why don’t you just marry her and keep her locked away at home?”

“Chiara.” His voice was low, a warning.

Everything Chiara had bottled up all day finally erupted. “Shut up. Don’t talk to me, Titus,” she shouted, louder than he was. “You make me sick.”

Titus’s face darkened further. “I dare you to say that again.”

Her breath caught as the memory of that photo surged back—bringing with it a burning anger, the sting of betrayal, and the hollow ache of deception.

She closed her eyes, a sob catching in her throat. “Titus, please, just let me go. Do whatever you want. I’ll get out of your way. Just stop showing up in front of me.”

His fury ignited instantly. “Get out of whose picture?” he snapped, jaw tight.

A bitter smile curled on Chiara’s lips. “The one in your arms.”

He let out a sharp, dismissive laugh. “That’s you.”

And he was right—she was trapped, caught in the circle of his arms, her body pressed captive against his.

He didn’t seem to mind the paint smudges from her clothes staining his own.

When she fell silent, his hands returned to the buttons on her blouse. A shiver ran through her as she began to struggle more fiercely.

“Stop fighting, or I’ll have you thrown out of this car naked,” he threatened.

Chiara shot him a venomous glare, jaw clenched so tight it looked like she might bite him.

Titus barely reacted, though a dull ache throbbed in his shoulder where she had bitten him. “What, thinking about biting me again? Try it, and I’ll make sure you never use those teeth again.”

Finally, he managed to pull her shirt off. His sharp eyes scanned her skin, noting the red marks blooming across her body.

His expression hardened as he grabbed one of his own shirts from the compartment and draped it over her shoulders.

He attempted to wipe the paint from her face with a tissue, but it had already begun to dry.

If she hadn’t seen the photo, she might have questioned herself. But the evidence was undeniable.

“A man caught with a paid girl never admits it was a transaction,” she fired back sharply. “He always says it was just a hookup. What’s the difference in the end?”

Behind the wheel, Paul was so taken aback by her bluntness that the car swerved slightly.

He stole a quick glance in the rearview mirror at Titus’s face, which was thunderous and so dark it seemed to suck the light from the car.

“So, I’m a john to you now?” Titus let out a bitter, humorless laugh, eyes locked on her sharp mouth. The urge to silence her—to shut her up—was overwhelming.

He wondered where the sweet woman who used to call him ‘honey’ had disappeared to. This cutting, spiteful person before him was a stranger.

A wave of smug satisfaction washed over Chiara as she saw the storm brewing in his eyes. “Is that an admission, or are you just calling Ms. Jensen a prostitute?” she shot back.

His hand shot out, grabbing her chin with bruising force. “Watch your filthy mouth, Chiara,” he warned, voice dangerously low.

She met his glare without flinching. “Filthy? I’m spotless compared to the two of you.”

A cold fury settled in Titus’s gaze as he stared her down.

Paul, sensing the rising tension, cautiously interrupted, “Mr. Goodman, we’ve arrived at the hospital.”

After a long, heavy stare, Titus abruptly lifted Chiara into his arms and carried her out of the car.

“I can walk perfectly well on my own,” Chiara said sarcastically, struggling against him. “My legs are just fine.”

Paul followed a few steps behind, shaking his head in disbelief. Her words were like razor blades, always finding their mark.

“That’s enough,” Titus growled, a vein throbbing on his forehead. “One more word, and I’ll drop you.”

Chiara met his threat with a hard glare before turning away. She stayed silent until he set her down in a chair, then muttered flatly, “That’s a pathetic look for you.”

Paul snorted with laughter before he could stop himself.