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After the Divorce, My Ex Begged to Give Me a House Novel Cover

After the Divorce, My Ex Begged to Give Me a House

Evelyn Shaw is determined to teach her husband, Liam Carter, a lesson after he stumbles home drunk. By marking his neck with her own lipstick, she sets a trap to confront him the following morning. Liam is utterly baffled and begs for her forgiveness, unaware of her scheme. But Evelyn's vengeful satisfaction is shattered after dinner when she overhears his secret phone call. Liam warns his actual mistress to avoid kissing his face, realizing his wife is finally growing suspicious.
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Chapter 1

My husband, Liam Carter, came home drunk again.

I was so pissed I put on lipstick and planted several bright kisses all over his neck.

The next morning I confronted him.

“Who kissed you? Where the hell were you last night?”

He stared at me, completely confused, then started apologizing over and over.

I thought to myself, That’ll teach you.

But after dinner, I accidentally overheard him on the phone.

“Baby, don’t kiss my face next time. My wife, Evelyn Shaw, is already suspicious.”

I had just finished washing the dishes when I heard that.

My hand clenched around the dishcloth on instinct.

I left two ugly smears on my shirt.

We’ve been married three years. Liam never used to come home late.

Even when he had business dinners, he would call me in advance.

Lately, he’s been coming back reeking of alcohol all the time.

I was only trying to tease him, pretending to leave those lipstick marks on his neck.

I never imagined it would drag this kind of truth out into the open.

On the balcony, still in his bathrobe, Liam continued his call.

“What’s the rush? I’ll come keep you company in a few days.”

The night wind drifted in, carrying his low, suggestive tone.

He used to talk to me like that the second day we moved in together.

After we got married, that sort of thing became mundane, and then it stopped altogether.

I stood frozen in the shadows.

There was no lying to myself anymore.

I hadn’t misheard. It wasn’t a misunderstanding.

Liam was cheating.

I flipped on the light.

Liam jumped on the balcony, hastily ending the call with a tap.

“Evelyn, what are you doing here?”

I almost laughed, but couldn’t.

This is our home.

If I’m not here, where else would I be?

“What are you doing?” I asked.

He recovered quickly. “Oh, just talking to a friend.”

“Which friend? Why don’t you keep talking?”

Liam glanced down at his phone, then set it face-down on the table behind him.

He turned to me, brows drawing together.

“Why do you always have to ask so many questions? I already explained about the lipstick. One of the guys pulled a prank while I was drunk and got someone to kiss me. If you don’t believe me, you can call Marcus.”

Marcus Reid was our partner when we started the company.

He was also my college classmate.

I knew Marcus first; I was the one who later introduced him to Liam.

In the past, when Liam said things like that, I always ended up thinking I was the problem.

That I was being annoying.

Making a big deal out of nothing.

Because Liam had always been so open with me about social events. He even had Marcus go along with him, and he’d pick up my video calls anytime.

He’d given me more than enough reason to feel secure.

Until today, when all of that security shattered.

“There’s no need,” I said quietly. “I believe you.”

That night, we lay down in bed.

Maybe Liam realized he’d been a little harsh earlier.

He started coaxing me again.

“Evelyn, it’s not that I don’t want to explain. I’m just exhausted from all these dinners lately. Anyway, you just have to trust me, okay?”

I made a noncommittal sound and turned my back to him.

“Go to sleep.”

As usual, he wrapped an arm around me.

Liam has always been good with sweet talk.

I used to let myself be soothed by him so easily.

I’ve always been ticklish and hated anyone pressing against my waist.

But he said he loved holding me to sleep.

Said he felt at ease with me there, that he slept better.

I felt sorry for how hard he worked, so I forced myself to get used to it.

That night, I lay facing away from him, eyes open.

Listening as his breathing gradually slowed and grew shallow.

When I was sure he was asleep, I lifted the blanket and gently moved his arm off me.

He didn’t stir at all.

The next morning, I woke up early as usual.

A number with no name on it flashed across my screen.

“Hello, is this Mr. Carter? We’re calling to confirm the Denver double-traveler package you booked with us earlier…”

The moment I realized it was a travel agency, my mind went blank for a second.

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