Too Late, CEO: Your Ex-Wife Is Gone

Arielle walked down the long, dimly lit hallway toward Leo's nursery. Her wet shoes squeaked softly against the hardwood floor. The cold fabric of her coat slapped against her calves with every step.

Behind her, she heard Julian's voice.

"Just leave, Karli," Julian said. His voice carried a hint of impatience now.

The heavy front door clicked shut a moment later. The massive apartment fell into a suffocating silence.

Heavy footsteps sounded behind Arielle. Julian strode down the hallway, his long legs easily catching up to her.

He grabbed her wrist.

The sudden warmth of his large hand shocked her freezing skin.

Arielle flinched violently. She ripped her arm out of his grasp as if his touch physically burned her. She stumbled back a step, her chest heaving.

Julian's brow furrows. Genuine confusion mixed with rising anger at her physical rejection. No one rejected Julian Sinclair.

He stepped forward and trapped her against the wall, his large frame blocking any escape. He leaned his tall frame over her, trapping her in his shadow.

"Are you throwing a tantrum simply because Karli was here?" he asked, lowering his voice.

He looked down at her, his dark eyes searching her pale face.

"She was just dropping off files, Arielle. Your jealousy is irrational," he hinted, his tone dripping with condescension.

Arielle stared at the hollow of his throat. She felt absolutely nothing. No jealousy. No pain. Just a vast, empty wasteland.

Julian reached out. He brushed a wet strand of hair from her pale cheek. It was a manipulative form of intimacy, a habit he used to pacify her.

"Let's go to the master bedroom," he murmured, his voice dropping an octave. "I'll help you warm up."

The suggestion of sex as a band-aid made Arielle's stomach churn with revulsion. The thought of his hands on her made her skin crawl.

She turned her face away sharply. His fingertips grazed empty air.

"I am exhausted," Arielle stated flatly. "I only want to see our son, Leo."

Julian sighed heavily. He stepped back, dropping his hand. He ran his fingers through his perfectly styled hair, his frustration peaking.

"You always use Leo as an excuse to avoid your marital duties," Julian accused. His jaw tightened.

Arielle looked up. She met his eyes directly. Her gaze was devoid of the usual warmth and submissiveness he expected from her.

"There are no duties left to fulfill," she told him calmly.

Julian narrowed his eyes. A dangerous glint appeared in his dark irises. He adjusted his cuffs, a telltale sign of his rising temper.

"Excuse me?" he demanded.

Arielle took a deep breath. The cold air filled her lungs, giving her the oxygen she needed.

"Divorce," she said.

The word hung in the quiet hallway. It was heavy, solid, and irreversible.

Julian froze. The muscle in his jaw ticked rapidly as his brain processed the word.

Then, he let out a harsh, mocking scoff. He looked at her as if she were a child throwing a toy out of a pram.

"Stop being dramatic," Julian said. He shook his head. "This female hysteria over a minor slight is getting old."

He stepped closer again. His presence was threateningly soft.

"Sinclair men do not get divorced," he stated. It was a fact, not a negotiation.

Arielle did not back down. Her posture remained rigid against the wall.

"I will have my lawyer contact yours," she asserted. Her voice did not shake.

She turned away from him and grabbed the handle of the nursery door. She was desperate to escape his oppressive aura.

She pushed the door open and slipped inside.

Julian stood in the hallway, watching the door click shut. A deep, unrecognized seed of panic took root in his chest, but he quickly buried it under a layer of arrogant anger.