Divorced And Disgraced: My Spectacular Comeback

Claire Ashley POV:

The blinding flashes were like a thousand tiny knives stabbing into my eyes. I instinctively tried to cover my naked body with my arms, a useless, pathetic gesture.

"Mrs. Mann, do you have a comment on your infidelity?"

"Who was the man in the photo?"

The reporters swarmed me like sharks that had scented blood, shoving microphones and lenses in my face.

I looked past them, my gaze desperately seeking out Jefferson. My husband. I searched his face for a flicker of defense, a shred of protection, even if it was fake.

He just stood there, watching. A cold, unreadable smirk played on his lips. In that instant, the last ember of hope inside me died.

Jefferson's agent burst in, shouting at the press, and with the help of hotel security, they were finally forced out. Through it all, Jefferson didn't say a word. He didn't even look at me again.

Through it all, Falon had slipped out with the reporters, her face buried in her phone like she was just another bystander caught in the chaos.

The room fell silent, leaving just the two of us. I pulled the sheet from the bed, wrapping it around my trembling body as I struggled to my feet.

"Why?" My voice was a raw, broken whisper.

"Why?" He repeated the word as if it were the funniest joke he'd ever heard, letting out a short, sharp laugh. "Claire, you should be asking yourself what you did."

I stared at his face, a face that was suddenly a stranger's. A sharp pain twisted in my chest. "It wasn't me! I was set up! It was Falon, the drink she gave me—"

At the mention of Falon's name, his eyes flickered. A flash of annoyance crossed his face. "Enough. Don't blame your own cheap behavior on someone else."

He pulled a folded document from his jacket pocket and tossed it onto the rumpled bed. "That's a divorce agreement. I've already signed it. Sign it, and we're done."

"Divorce?" I couldn't believe it. We'd only been married a year. It was a business arrangement, I knew that, but I had played my part. I had been a good, supportive wife.

"I've been sick of you for months, Claire," he said, his words like shards of glass. "You're like a glass of water. Boring."

He turned his back on me and walked toward the bathroom. The door swung shut, but it didn't latch.

I stood frozen, a chill seeping deep into my bones. On autopilot, my bare feet carried me silently across the carpet.

That's when I heard it.

A giggle.

A woman's giggle, coming from behind the bathroom door.

My feet stopped. My heart stopped.

Then I heard Falon's voice, low and breathy, the way I imagined she'd sound in bed.

"Took you long enough."

"I had to get rid of her first," Jefferson's voice rumbled back.

The wet sound of a kiss. A soft moan. The rustle of clothing.

My hand flew to my mouth. I pressed myself against the wall, hidden just outside the door. The bathroom door that was supposed to separate my world from theirs, but might as well have been made of air.

"I saw the photos." Falon's voice again, laced with amusement. "God, she looked pathetic. Naked and used."

"Told you the angle would be perfect," Jefferson murmured.

"The media's having a field day. Hockey star's wife, a cheating slut." She laughed. "The plan worked, baby. Better than we imagined."

"Not yet," he said, his voice dropping. "She still hasn't signed."

A pause. Then Falon's voice, silkily cold. "She will. Once she sees what's waiting for her, she'll sign anything."

"Sharon's already on it. By the time we're done, Claire won't have a single person left in her corner."Falon laughed again.

Another kiss. A low, satisfied chuckle from Jefferson.

They weren't just having an affair.

This was a plan. A long, meticulous, calculated plan.

And I was the target.

"You know what I love most about this?" Falon purred. "She's still in love with you. She probably thinks you'll save her."

Jefferson snorted. "She's dumber than she looks."

A hot wave of humiliation and fury burned through my veins. My hands were shaking. My legs were weak. But I didn't move. I couldn't move.

Then a sound escaped me. A small, choked breath. Barely audible.

But Jefferson heard it.

The bathroom door swung open.

There he was, his shirt half-unbuttoned, his lips smeared with Falon's lipstick. Behind him, Falon leaned against the sink, her dress straps fallen from her shoulders. She didn't even flinch. She just looked at me, tilted her head, and smiled.

"You heard," Jefferson stated. It wasn't a question. He was done pretending.

I looked past him, straight at Falon. My voice came out raw. "You... planned this. All of it."

Falon shrugged, unbothered. "Don't be so dramatic, Claire. You were never going to keep him anyway."

I stepped back, my spine hitting the cold wall. The sheet slipped, and I grabbed at it, desperate to keep what little dignity I had left.

Jefferson stepped forward, buttoning his shirt. "My lawyer will be in touch. Don't try anything."

Falon sauntered out of the bathroom, running a hand down Jefferson's arm. "Come on, baby. Let's not waste any more time on her."

She looked at me once more, eyes glinting with pure, undisguised triumph. "Enjoy the scandal, sis."

They walked out together, arm in arm, leaving me alone again with the wreckage of the room and a heart that was shattered beyond repair.