When She Ended It With Divorce (Chiara and Titus) novel Chapter 48

**Silent Roads Remember by Sawyer**
**Chapter 48**

As they pulled into the parking lot of the company building, Chiara hesitated, her hand resting on the car door handle. She was about to step out when Titus’s voice broke the silence. “You’re just leaving like that?” he questioned, his brow slightly furrowed.

Chiara paused, her thoughts drifting back to the countless times they returned from the Goodman manor. It was always the same routine; Titus would drive her back to the villa, but he never seemed inclined to engage her in conversation. It was as if she was a mere passenger in his life, and she often found herself initiating the dialogue, only to be met with his disinterested replies.

She caught Titus’s gaze, a steady stare that made her heart skip a beat. After a moment’s contemplation, she decided to share a piece of her evening plans. “Our company has a party tonight, so I’ll probably be back late. No need for Paul to pick me up,” she informed him, hoping to lighten the atmosphere.

A flicker of relief crossed Titus’s face at her revelation, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Anything else?” he inquired, curiosity creeping into his tone.

Chiara considered his question for a heartbeat before shaking her head. “Nope, that’s all.”

Titus watched her as she stepped out of the car, her silhouette gradually fading into the distance, leaving him with an unshakeable sense of longing.

Paul, who had been observing the exchange quietly, kept Chiara in his peripheral vision until she was completely out of sight. Only then did he break the silence. “Mr. Goodman, there’s a meeting this morning—the one we didn’t finish last night,” he reminded Titus.

Titus clicked his tongue in a noncommittal manner, finally tearing his gaze away from the place where Chiara had disappeared. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice lacking enthusiasm.

Meanwhile, Heather, who had been anxiously watching Chiara, turned to her and asked, “Nothing happened last night, right?”

Chiara shook her head, her voice steady. “Nothing, really.”

Heather nodded, but her curiosity got the best of her. “So, what’s the deal between you two now?”

Chiara hesitated for a moment, weighing her words carefully before responding. “I’m waiting for the news.”

“What kind of news?” Heather pressed, sensing the weight behind Chiara’s words.

Taking a deep breath, Chiara explained how Eunice had hired a private investigator on her behalf, her tone growing more serious with each word.

Heather’s expression shifted to concern as she frowned. “What’s wrong, Heather? Is there a problem?” Chiara asked, noticing the change.

Heather shook her head, her mind racing. “Hang on, I’ll get the legal team up here.”

“What do we need the legal team for?” Chiara asked, confusion knitting her brow.

Before long, the company’s legal counsel arrived, his presence commanding immediate attention. “Ms. Lynch, Chiara,” he greeted them with a nod.

Heather gestured toward the sofa, inviting him to sit. “It’s about my sister and Mr. Goodman’s divorce,” she explained, her voice steady but laced with urgency.

The legal counsel leaned forward, his interest piqued. “Are you planning to file a lawsuit, Ms. Lynch?”

Heather shook her head firmly. “No, she and Mr. Goodman signed a prenup before they got married. I want you to look it over and see if there’s any way we can use it.”

Chiara quickly summarized the main points of the agreement, her heart racing as she spoke.

The counsel adjusted his glasses, focusing intently. “So, with the prenup in place, as long as we’ve got proof that he cheated, we can push for divorce,” he concluded.

Chiara’s gaze sharpened, her resolve strengthening. “How likely are we to win?”

“If someone’s willing to take it on, we’ve got a strong shot at winning,” the counsel replied confidently.

“What kind of evidence counts as solid proof?” Chiara inquired, her mind racing with possibilities.

The counsel rattled off several examples, each one more daunting than the last.

Once the counsel had left, Heather finally found her voice again. “Just photos of them together aren’t enough. That doesn’t prove a thing unless you literally catch them in bed. Or…”

Chiara’s curiosity was piqued. “Or what?”

“Just like the counsel said, if you can track down any records of Titus spending money on Elaine these past few years, that would be proof enough. But finding that stuff? That’s seriously tough,” Heather admitted, her expression grim.

A heaviness settled in Chiara’s chest, her thoughts turning dark. ‘Tough? More like nearly impossible,’ she mused, feeling the weight of despair creeping in.

Heather placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Don’t stress. We’ll figure something out,” she encouraged, her voice soothing.

Chiara pressed her lips together, nodding slowly, but her mind was already racing, plotting how she could possibly uncover any evidence of Titus’s financial support for Elaine.

Noticing the worry etched on Chiara’s face, Heather murmured a soft comfort. “Hey, don’t stress. Take your time. There’s always a way out.”

That evening, Chiara took the initiative to contact Eunice, using the company party as an excuse for Eunice to drop by.

“This is him. My friend said he’s really good at what he does,” Eunice introduced, gesturing toward a man standing slightly apart, his demeanor calm and collected.

Chiara scrutinized the man for a moment before voicing her concern. “You sure he won’t get caught?”

“Not a chance. He told me he’s been at this for twenty years, and nobody’s ever caught him. Don’t worry about it,” Eunice whispered, tucking her phone away with a sense of finality.

Eunice nodded, her concern still lingering. “Alright.”

After using the restroom, Chiara turned on the faucet, allowing the cool water to wash over her hands.

Suddenly, Elaine’s voice cut through the air. “Ms. Lynch, what a coincidence.”

Chiara paused, not looking up immediately. She finished washing her hands, taking her time, grabbing a tissue to dry them before finally turning to face Elaine.

Elaine stood before her, dressed in a striking purple gown, a smile plastered on her face that didn’t reach her eyes. Chiara glanced at her and then looked away, choosing to ignore her entirely as she attempted to leave.

Elaine’s annoyance was palpable as she watched Chiara’s dismissive behavior. “Ms. Lynch, guess you haven’t heard yet, have you?”

Chiara finally stopped and shot her a sideways glance. “If you’ve got something to say, just spit it out. No need to beat around the bush.”

Elaine was momentarily taken aback by Chiara’s bluntness but quickly regained her composure, her smile taking on a mocking quality.

“Really, I should thank you for being so heartless that day,” Elaine said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Chiara met her gaze, her expression neutral, refusing to give Elaine the satisfaction of a reaction.

They locked eyes for a moment, the tension thickening in the air, but Elaine’s coldness broke the spell. “Even though you refused to compromise that day and the school found out what Theresa did, Titus still managed to pull some strings and get Theresa into the Imperial Academy of Arts.

“I guess you could call it a blessing in disguise. So, let me give you a big thanks from Theresa.”

Chiara simply stared at her, her silence speaking volumes. She might be able to endure Elaine’s taunts, but Eunice was not about to let it slide.

With a fierce determination, Eunice marched over, yanking Chiara behind her protectively and giving Elaine a scathing once-over, her eyes filled with disdain. “Oh, so you’re the shameless homewrecker everyone’s been talking about?” Eunice sneered, her voice sharp.

Elaine’s face darkened, her irritation boiling over. “You!”

Eunice didn’t back down. “What? Have you even looked in a mirror lately? What part of you could possibly measure up to Chiara? Titus must have been completely out of his mind to fall for trash like you.”

Elaine’s face twisted in anger, her glare directed at Eunice like daggers. “Who the hell are you?”

Eunice shot back, “You don’t even deserve to know my name. I heard you’re a dancer, right? Back in the day, you’d be nothing more than a courtesan. If you want to dress it up, sure, call yourself an artist.

“But let’s get real here—you’re just out there selling yourself for applause and pocket change.”