When She Ended It With Divorce (Chiara and Titus) novel Chapter 70

**Chapter 70**

During the lunch hour, this secluded spot was typically devoid of visitors, and the food service was remarkably swift. Chiara’s gaze swept over the array of dishes arranged neatly on the coffee table. “Are these herbal dishes?” she inquired, her curiosity piqued.

Titus arched an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. “Yeah,” he confirmed, his tone casual.

Chiara shot him a pointed look, her lips forming words that never escaped her mouth. The silence hung between them, thick with unspoken thoughts.

Titus, sensing her hesitation, decided to break the tension. “Why don’t you just ask?” he suggested, his voice light yet encouraging.

Chiara hesitated for a moment, feigning ignorance. “Ask what?” she replied, her tone innocent.

Titus observed her, a faint smile creeping onto his lips as he recognized her playful act. With a gentle motion, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Do you remember what I told you before?” he asked, his eyes searching hers for a flicker of recognition.

Chiara shook her head slowly. “What did you say?” she prompted, genuinely puzzled.

Titus took a moment, studying her expression before he spoke again, his voice low and serious. “When we first got married, I was in the midst of establishing a new branch. I was overwhelmed with work, and I promised I’d carve out more time for you. I remember that promise vividly.”

The air grew thick with silence as Chiara absorbed his words. She understood the demands of his career, which was why she refrained from reaching out unless it was absolutely necessary. The instance at the hospital had been one of those rare occasions—she had only contacted him because the Lynch Group was facing a financial crunch and desperately needed an advance to keep afloat.

But the aftermath of that call was what truly resonated with her. It was a defining moment that shattered her illusions. In a marriage where the scales were always tipped in favor of one partner, she realized that perpetual self-sacrifice was not the answer.

His ongoing connection with Elaine, the repeated choices he made that favored her over Chiara, had pierced her heart deeply.

It was only later that she came to terms with a painful truth: knowing that Titus didn’t love her wouldn’t shatter her spirit. If that were the case, perhaps she could have mustered the strength to endure a life spent chasing after his affection.

She could have dedicated her life to winning his heart—that notion might have fueled her resolve. But the moment she stumbled upon that photograph, everything became painfully clear.

No matter how fiercely she loved, it would never be enough for a man whose heart was already claimed by another.

Titus placed a bowl of steaming soup before her, his eyes searching for a reaction. “Why the silence?” he asked, a hint of concern lacing his voice.

Chiara cast her gaze downward, shaking her head. Words eluded her, leaving her in a state of uncertainty. All she desired was to mend the fractures in their relationship and restore the bond they once shared. “Thanks,” she finally managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

He waited, anticipation etched on his face, but all he received was her simple gratitude. “Just a ‘thanks’?” he queried, his tone playful yet probing.

Chiara turned to him, her expression silently asking, “What more did you expect?”

Titus chuckled softly, a glimmer of mischief dancing in his eyes. “Do I really seem that easy to please?”

Chiara noticed his gaze lingering on her lips, a spark igniting in the air between them.

“If I can’t have the real thing, can’t I at least savor a taste?” he teased, his voice low and intimate.

Chiara pressed her lips together, her stomach growling in protest. “I’m hungry,” she stated, trying to redirect the conversation.

But Titus, with a playful grin, interjected, “Food can wait—give me a kiss first.”

She could never refuse him, so she leaned in, pressing her lips against his in a quick, soft kiss.

Titus lingered for a moment, savoring the contact before pulling back, his voice a low rasp in her ear. “How many days do you need?” he asked, his eyes searching hers with intensity.

Chiara felt warmth flood her cheeks, her heart racing as she stammered, “Seven days.”

Titus frowned, clearly taken aback. “That long?”

Chiara remained silent, her thoughts swirling.

He studied her, noting how she avoided his gaze. With a gentle touch, he brushed his thumb against her warm, flushed cheek. “You’re not lying to me, are you?” he murmured, his voice laced with concern.

Chiara’s lashes fluttered as she whispered, “I’m really not lying. Normally, it’s five days, but there’s a two-day recovery period. If you don’t believe me, just ask a doctor.”

Titus’s thumb lingered at the corner of her lips, sending her heart into a wild flutter. Chiara felt a surge of anxiety, her eyes fixated on the button of his shirt, too nervous to meet his gaze.

He held her gaze for a few moments longer before finally helping her sit up from the couch. “Let’s eat,” he declared, his tone shifting to something more practical.

Chiara let out a silent sigh of relief. Honestly, she had feared he might make an unusual demand.

Titus glanced at the clock, just as the office door swung open. Paul stepped inside, carrying a thermos. “Here, Mrs. Goodman, Lindsay sent this for you,” he announced.

Titus looked at the thermos, then nodded. “Alright, now you can go,” he instructed.

Chiara exchanged a glance with Titus before accepting the thermos from Paul. “Thanks,” she said, her tone appreciative.

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Goodman,” Paul replied, a hint of warmth in his voice.

After taking it, she stated, “I’ll be on my way now.”

“Yeah,” Titus replied, watching her leave the office. Once she was gone, he turned back to Paul, his demeanor shifting to businesslike indifference. “Let everyone know there’s a meeting at two.”

“Yes, Mr. Goodman,” Paul acknowledged, though he hesitated, his expression conflicted. “Mr. Goodman…”

“Go ahead,” Titus prompted, his patience wearing thin.

Paul cleared his throat, gathering his thoughts. “Ms. Jensen just called me.”

Titus finally looked up, irritation flickering in his eyes. “Didn’t I tell you to manage things on your own? You don’t need to report every little detail to me.”

Paul scratched his head, feeling the weight of his responsibility. “But I thought you should know about this one.”

Titus twirled his pen between his fingers, leaning back in his chair, silently urging Paul to continue.

“So, the Velmara Royal Dance Troupe has a royal inauguration performance coming up in Eldravia, and Ms. Jensen is hoping to secure a spot. But the competition is incredibly fierce this time.”

For most, this would pose a significant challenge, but for Titus, it was merely another task to handle.

After a brief pause, Titus responded in his signature calm, relaxed manner. “As long as she doesn’t make any outrageous demands, just make it happen. Take care of it,” he instructed.

Paul nodded, but a thought crossed his mind, compelling him to voice it. “Should I keep it under wraps? Maybe find someone who can facilitate it discreetly?”

Titus gazed out the window, his thoughts drifting as he focused on a distant point, lost in contemplation.