Divorced From The Pretender novel Chapter 9

Over the last five years, I slowly began to heal from the heartbreak of my past relationship and the loss of my father. Together with Atlas, I've poured my heart and soul into building our studio.

With his connections and resources, Atlas brought in countless opportunities.

As for me, I embraced this new chapter of my life with everything I had.

I thought I'd finally found peace and happiness—until one evening, when a chance overheard conversation shattered everything I believed in.

"You really outplayed me on this one. Got Celeste to walk away willingly, like the clingy fool she is. But tell me—what do you think she'd do if she found out it was you who destoryed her father? Will she'd want to kill you?"

My fingers hesitated on the polished brass handle of the private lounge door.

Inside, laughter rang out, low and mocking.

"You really had her fooled," my ex-husband, Nathaniel, drawled, amusement dripping from his voice. "Celeste trusted you like a brother, loved you unconditionally. I bet it never even crossed her mind that the man who destroyed her father was you."

My breath caught in my throat.

A second voice, hoarse with alcohol and anger, responded. It was Atlas.

"I took the blame for you because of Ivy," he bit out, his words laced with something bitter. "I never cared for Celeste even though, but I'm not a monster. I'd never go as far as pushing her father to his death."

A sharp clink echoed as glass met wood, the sound edged with suppressed fury. Then came Atlas's voice again, low and seething.

"I owe her. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to her. The only reason I helped you back then was for Ivy's sake. But if you ever hurt her, if you ever so much as make her cry, I swear to God, I'll end you."

Nathaniel laughed, a slow, taunting sound.

"Such devotion," he mused. "But it's too bad she met me first. You should focus on protecting your dear Celeste... after all, you killed her father. Be careful, Atlas. The dead have a way of coming back to haunt you."

*Crash.* The unmistakable sound of glass shattering against the door jolted me back to my senses.

I turned on my heel and walked away, my heart pounding like a war drum.

Downstairs, the bar was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of liquor and smoke. My hands trembled as I reached for a glass, lifting it to my lips.

The moment the alcohol burned down my throat, tears welled in my eyes. I never drank. But tonight, I needed something—anything—to drown out the words replaying in my mind.

It wasn't Nathaniel who ruined my father.

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