When She Ended It With Divorce (Chiara and Titus) novel Chapter 6

Chapter 6

“Titus!” Chiara snapped, her voice thick with a mix of anger and humiliation, her cheeks burning with an intense flush.

His fingers traced a slow, deliberate path along her cheek. Noticing the flicker of fear in her eyes, he offered a faint, almost teasing half-smile.

“Didn’t I tell you not to call me that? I hate it,” he murmured, leaning in closer, his breath warm against her skin.

Chiara’s gaze locked onto his striking features, so close now she could see every detail—the sharp jawline, the dark eyes. For the first time, she realized that beneath his polished, privileged exterior lay a wildness, an unruly edge she hadn’t fully grasped before.

“Please,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “Can’t we just… talk?”

Titus lifted her chin with a firm hand. The cold detachment that had settled on his face moments ago was gone, replaced by a faintly menacing glint.

He drawled slowly, “Fine. Let’s do some math. Forget about my investments in Lynch Group and the boost to my reputation. For three years, I’ve paid for your meals, your clothes, and your grandfather’s medical bills. Have you factored that in?”

Chiara’s face paled, but she forced herself to speak. “No, I haven’t. But I’ve been the perfect wife for three years. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Titus chuckled darkly. “You really think you deserve all that?”

She hated how shameless she sounded, but she nodded, unable to suppress the truth. “Shouldn’t I?”

For three long years, she had been the ideal, obedient wife—careful never to upset him. When he wanted her, she was there without question. When he didn’t, she faded into the background, almost invisible. The title Mrs. Goodman sounded glamorous, but in reality, she felt more like a pet—available on demand and discarded at his whim.

A shadow crossed Titus’s face, darker than anything she’d ever seen before. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest.

“Sounds like you’ve got some complaints,” he said, voice cold and sharp as a blade. “Go on. Say what’s really on your mind.”

Chiara bit her lip, her eyes drifting past his ear toward the untouched mango pudding on the table.

“I’m not unhappy,” she said softly. “Like you said, I was the one who wanted this marriage. I wouldn’t dare complain.”

“Wouldn’t dare?” Titus leaned forward, his gaze locking onto her delicate features with an intensity that made her shiver.

She met his eyes steadily. “For three years, I did everything you asked. I stayed out of your way, played the perfect trophy wife. I’m not asking for money in the divorce.”

“But after everything I’ve given these past three years, don’t I deserve something?”

“You kept a dog for three years,” he said with a bitter laugh, “and it guarded your house. Would you expect it to give back every treat it ate?”

Titus laughed so hard it was almost cruel, then patted her cheek with a mocking smirk. “So you think you’re just a dog?”

“No,” Chiara whispered, voice breaking. “I’m not even worth a dog. At least a dog can bark when it’s upset. I’m just your decoration.”

For a long moment, Titus fixed her with a cold, piercing stare before finally releasing her chin. He stepped back, hands shoved deep into his pockets, a cold smile curling his lips. “Good. Looks like you finally understand.”

Chiara turned away, her heart racing uncontrollably. She’d spilled everything—things she shouldn’t have said, things she couldn’t hold back.

“As you said, you’ve done well these past three years. I’m satisfied. So I’m not kicking you out,” Titus said casually.

Her eyes widened in disbelief as she faced him. “You…”

“You’re still Mrs. Goodman,” he said flatly. “You’re not going anywhere until I’m done with you.”

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