Left at the Altar with His Triplets: The Billionaire Begs for Forgiveness - Chapter 73: Chapter 73
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Before I could process that punch, Arnold had already put down his chopsticks, frowning at me: "Why did you kick me?"
I was already on edge, and his sudden question startled me so much I almost reflexively shot back: "Who kicked you—"
The words had barely left my mouth when I realized something was wrong, forcibly swallowing the rest and quickly forcing an awkward smile.
"Right, I kicked you... it wasn't intentional, sorry."
He said nothing more, just picked up his glass for another sip of water.
I quietly breathed a sigh of relief, my smile still a bit stiff, slowly suppressing my racing heartbeat.
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye—still as composed and elegant as always, eating unhurriedly, as if nothing had happened.
The atmosphere in the entire private room had become as strange as it could get. Except for him and Elodie, who was eating happily, Clara and I had barely touched our chopsticks.
Time seemed to crawl by frozen.
Arnold finally put down his chopsticks and picked up his water glass for a sip.
I immediately looked at him, judging whether he had finished eating, preparing to speak.
But as if he could read minds, he looked up at me, his tone calm yet precisely hitting my thoughts: "Half an hour, you looked at me six times. What's the matter?"
I almost choked.
Was this man a psycho? He actually counted so clearly?
My eyes flickered, immediately putting on a fake smile: "Are you finished eating?"
"Yes."
"If you're done, could you come outside with me? I have something to discuss with you."
His brow moved slightly—I could tell he had already guessed what I wanted to say.
On this matter, I was indeed impatient, not wanting to delay even a day.
His expression darkened. Without saying anything, he stood up and walked out.
I immediately followed suit, giving Clara a look, then quickly followed him out, closing the door behind me.
As soon as I left, rustling sounds immediately came from behind.
Clara and Elodie both crawled under the table.
"Brothers, come out quickly, bad daddy is gone," Elodie called softly.
I didn't look back, but could imagine those two crawling out from under the table looking disheveled and pitiful.
"Rowan, Callum, here you go."
It was Elodie's voice.
She held up her little bowl, carefully passing it from the table to her two brothers. The plate held several delicate pieces of cake that she had saved early on, specially kept for her brothers.
"Eat quickly, eat quickly, it really smells so good!"
Seeing Elodie's gesture, Callum and Rowan were deeply moved, their bitter little faces immediately brightening with happiness.
Sister was the best.
Arnold and I had the waiter find us a quiet spot to sit face to face. The air was thick with oppressive tension as I directly took out the divorce agreement I had prepared from my bag, spreading it in front of him and looking up at him.
"Take a look. If you have no objections, just sign."
He stared down at the agreement, his expression dark enough to chill the heart.
I ignored his expression and continued: "Don't worry, I won't ask you for anything extra in the divorce. I consulted lawyers about the property division—everything written is reasonable."
Suddenly, his voice rang out heavily: "I never thought about divorce."
I didn't hear clearly, so he repeated, lifting those deep eyes to stare directly at me: "Paisley, I never said I wanted to divorce you."
In that instant, my heart churned.
So what? I thought.
"Because of Grandfather?" I couldn't help asking.
Initially he married me to make Scott happy; now he didn't want to divorce because he was afraid of making Scott sad? That was the only explanation I could think of.
But he said calmly: "Not because of anyone. From the moment I married you, I never thought about divorce."
I was stunned.
It sounded very romantic, very responsible.
But recalling these years, I knew clearly—
If he really never thought about divorce, why had he never treated me well?
Why, in our marriage, was he gentle and caring toward other women?
His saying he never thought about divorce was just empty words.
He didn't want to divorce—that was his freedom.
But I—I wanted to.
The seven days after Mother's death had exhausted all my love for Arnold.
From the moment I decided to find a lawyer, I had made up my mind: I didn't want him anymore, never again.
He loved Victoria, so let him love her.
He wanted to protect Victoria, so let him.
I, Paisley, didn't have to be Arnold's only one.
He had money, power, and looks.
But I wasn't lacking either—I deserved someone better.
So this divorce was definitely happening.
I looked up, my eyes determined as I met his gaze: "Your not wanting to divorce is your freedom, but I want to. Arnold, please respect my choice and sign."
I was already on edge, and his sudden question startled me so much I almost reflexively shot back: "Who kicked you—"
The words had barely left my mouth when I realized something was wrong, forcibly swallowing the rest and quickly forcing an awkward smile.
"Right, I kicked you... it wasn't intentional, sorry."
He said nothing more, just picked up his glass for another sip of water.
I quietly breathed a sigh of relief, my smile still a bit stiff, slowly suppressing my racing heartbeat.
I glanced at him from the corner of my eye—still as composed and elegant as always, eating unhurriedly, as if nothing had happened.
The atmosphere in the entire private room had become as strange as it could get. Except for him and Elodie, who was eating happily, Clara and I had barely touched our chopsticks.
Time seemed to crawl by frozen.
Arnold finally put down his chopsticks and picked up his water glass for a sip.
I immediately looked at him, judging whether he had finished eating, preparing to speak.
But as if he could read minds, he looked up at me, his tone calm yet precisely hitting my thoughts: "Half an hour, you looked at me six times. What's the matter?"
I almost choked.
Was this man a psycho? He actually counted so clearly?
My eyes flickered, immediately putting on a fake smile: "Are you finished eating?"
"Yes."
"If you're done, could you come outside with me? I have something to discuss with you."
His brow moved slightly—I could tell he had already guessed what I wanted to say.
On this matter, I was indeed impatient, not wanting to delay even a day.
His expression darkened. Without saying anything, he stood up and walked out.
I immediately followed suit, giving Clara a look, then quickly followed him out, closing the door behind me.
As soon as I left, rustling sounds immediately came from behind.
Clara and Elodie both crawled under the table.
"Brothers, come out quickly, bad daddy is gone," Elodie called softly.
I didn't look back, but could imagine those two crawling out from under the table looking disheveled and pitiful.
"Rowan, Callum, here you go."
It was Elodie's voice.
She held up her little bowl, carefully passing it from the table to her two brothers. The plate held several delicate pieces of cake that she had saved early on, specially kept for her brothers.
"Eat quickly, eat quickly, it really smells so good!"
Seeing Elodie's gesture, Callum and Rowan were deeply moved, their bitter little faces immediately brightening with happiness.
Sister was the best.
Arnold and I had the waiter find us a quiet spot to sit face to face. The air was thick with oppressive tension as I directly took out the divorce agreement I had prepared from my bag, spreading it in front of him and looking up at him.
"Take a look. If you have no objections, just sign."
He stared down at the agreement, his expression dark enough to chill the heart.
I ignored his expression and continued: "Don't worry, I won't ask you for anything extra in the divorce. I consulted lawyers about the property division—everything written is reasonable."
Suddenly, his voice rang out heavily: "I never thought about divorce."
I didn't hear clearly, so he repeated, lifting those deep eyes to stare directly at me: "Paisley, I never said I wanted to divorce you."
In that instant, my heart churned.
So what? I thought.
"Because of Grandfather?" I couldn't help asking.
Initially he married me to make Scott happy; now he didn't want to divorce because he was afraid of making Scott sad? That was the only explanation I could think of.
But he said calmly: "Not because of anyone. From the moment I married you, I never thought about divorce."
I was stunned.
It sounded very romantic, very responsible.
But recalling these years, I knew clearly—
If he really never thought about divorce, why had he never treated me well?
Why, in our marriage, was he gentle and caring toward other women?
His saying he never thought about divorce was just empty words.
He didn't want to divorce—that was his freedom.
But I—I wanted to.
The seven days after Mother's death had exhausted all my love for Arnold.
From the moment I decided to find a lawyer, I had made up my mind: I didn't want him anymore, never again.
He loved Victoria, so let him love her.
He wanted to protect Victoria, so let him.
I, Paisley, didn't have to be Arnold's only one.
He had money, power, and looks.
But I wasn't lacking either—I deserved someone better.
So this divorce was definitely happening.
I looked up, my eyes determined as I met his gaze: "Your not wanting to divorce is your freedom, but I want to. Arnold, please respect my choice and sign."
End of Left at the Altar with His Triplets: The Billionaire Begs for Forgiveness Chapter 73. Continue reading Chapter 74 or return to Left at the Altar with His Triplets: The Billionaire Begs for Forgiveness book page.