When She Ended It With Divorce (Chiara and Titus) novel Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Paul had barely finished his sentence when a sudden realization washed over him. His eyes widened as he fixed his gaze on Titus, disbelief etched across his face. “Wait—Mrs. Goodman has been crushing on you since high school?” The words slipped out more as a stunned statement than a question.

Though he didn’t voice it outright, Paul was already convinced: Chiara’s feelings for Titus had been simmering for years, maybe even a decade.

Titus remained silent, his attention locked on the photos spread before him. He said nothing, his expression unreadable.

Even after all the years Paul had worked closely with Titus, he still couldn’t decipher what was going on behind that calm, stoic facade.

Unable to resist, Paul finally asked, “Mr. Goodman, do you remember which year in high school these were taken?” The pictures were clearly candid—snapshots probably captured without Titus ever knowing.

Titus’s gaze lingered on one particular photo. His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly as he spoke in a low, almost rough voice, “Freshman year.”

Paul let out a breath of surprise. “That long ago? So it’s been ten years already?”

His eyes drifted downward, landing on a dusty, leather-bound diary lying nearby. “Hey, there’s a diary here. Want to check it out?”

Titus rose and picked up the diary, noting the old-fashioned combination lock securing it. He was about to try opening it when he paused and looked at Paul.

Paul raised an eyebrow. “Something wrong?”

“Do you know Chiara’s birthday?” Titus asked quietly.

Paul couldn’t help but smirk inwardly. *Seriously? He can’t even remember his wife’s birthday and has to ask me? No wonder she’s had enough of him.*

Under Titus’s intense gaze, Paul relented, “March third.”

Titus tried the code 0303, but the lock resisted. He frowned in frustration.

Paul blinked, offering another suggestion, “Maybe try your own birthday?”

When the lock finally clicked open, Paul thought, *Knew it.*

Titus’s face was a complicated mask as he flipped through the pages. Paul wisely stepped back, giving the man space.

The room was silent except for their steady breathing and the soft rustle of paper as the diary was opened.

Paul’s curiosity gnawed at him—what secrets had Chiara poured into those pages? But he dared not peek. Most likely, it was nothing more than the typical musings of a teenage girl nursing a crush.

*Who would have guessed Mrs. Goodman harbored feelings for Mr. Goodman all these years?* Paul thought, surprised. *She always seemed so quiet, so composed.*

After what felt like an eternity, Paul caught a noise outside. He pulled back the curtain and whispered, “Mrs. Goodman’s back.”

Titus looked up slowly, closing the diary with deliberate care. His eyes were deep pools of emotion, unreadable yet intense.

A chill ran down Paul’s spine. He had never seen Titus reveal anything like this before.

Meanwhile, Chiara spotted the car idling in the yard and instantly tensed. “Heather, why is he here?” she asked, her voice tight with unease.

Heather glanced subtly toward the attic, then gave a reassuring pat of her hand. “I invited him. Just relax.”

Chiara’s brow furrowed deeper. “Why would you invite him?”

Heather sidestepped the question, replying softly, “Let’s just go inside.”

Though Chiara wanted nothing to do with Titus, she knew the reality—they were still married until the divorce was finalized. There was no escaping the title of Mrs. Goodman just yet.

Heather seemed to read her thoughts perfectly. “You can’t run from him forever. Why not face him head-on?”

Chiara inhaled deeply and nodded, steeling herself.

Titus gave Paul a subtle nod, and Paul immediately understood.

Holding up his right hand to his chest, Paul said, “Mr. Goodman, I think I left my phone in the car. I’ll go get it.”

Heather saw through Paul’s clumsy excuse but said nothing. “Go change,” she told Chiara.

Without hesitation, Chiara nodded. “Okay, I’ll head upstairs.”

The moment Chiara disappeared upstairs, Heather turned to Titus. “Let’s sit down and talk.”

Titus walked over and settled onto the sofa with an air of quiet ownership.

“When our family was struggling, and Chiara wanted to ask you for help, I shut it down,” Heather began.

Titus looked up at her, his eyes unreadable.

Heather pressed on, “I didn’t know you well back then. But from what I’d heard about your business tactics, I knew you were someone Chiara could never mess with.

“At that time, everyone was waiting to kick us while we were down. Chiara’s always been beautiful and smart, so men from powerful families were lined up, some even trying to force her into marriage.

“I never understood why she was so obsessed with you—until I found those photos.”

She paused, studying Titus closely. Yet he remained impassive, his expression a blank slate.

Heather frowned slightly. “Then I realized she’d been into you all along. She was so good at hiding it that none of us ever suspected a thing. If she hadn’t been desperate, she never would have approached you.

“To be honest, beyond what this marriage could mean for Lynch Group, I cared more about whether Chiara could get what she truly wanted.

“I was probably too hopeful. I knew you didn’t marry her for love, but I kept thinking maybe things could change. People aren’t robots—I hoped Chiara might be able to break through your icy exterior.”