Sexy Gym Owner Lady - Chapter 6: Chapter 6
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My eyes burned into him. "When did this begin?" My voice came out sharper than I intended.
Vincent's face darkened as he stared at the photo. The silence stretched between us, fueling my rage.
"You have the nerve to look at me like that?" I spat. "Not only did you cheat, but you tried to pawn me off on another man—playing the victim first! What twisted game were you playing?"
For just a heartbeat, something poisonous flashed in his eyes before he collapsed to his knees.
"I lost my mind, darling. It'll never happen again." His voice cracked with fake remorse.
As he hung his head in shame, bitter realization washed over me. I'd been a fool—blinded by love, too arrogant to imagine Vincent would ever stray.
"What does she have that I don't?" My hands shook. "How did this even start?"
He swallowed hard. "Two months before the wedding. She works reception at my gym... Please, forgive me."
The slap rang out before I'd even decided to strike him. "We're done. Divorce."
"Don't leave!" He grabbed my leg, voice breaking. "Just pay Bianca to take care of the baby and she'll disappear—"
"A baby?!" I kicked him away, sending a wine bottle shattering against the floor. Red liquid spread like blood toward my feet. "You got her pregnant?!"
My scream tore through the apartment until my voice gave out. The room spun.
"All those nights you 'needed to focus on fitness'—you were just avoiding me while knocking up some gym rat?"
He kept his eyes down. "I'll end it. We can move past this—"
"Move past this?!" Hysterical laughter bubbled up with my tears. "I wouldn't trust you if she vanished tomorrow! Now you expect me to believe you'll abandon your own child? You'd swear on your life knowing damn well karma won't strike you down!"
The silence thickened until he finally muttered, "Then let's divorce."
I collapsed onto the couch, gasping for air.
When he looked up, he was smiling.
That grin froze my blood.
Vincent stood slowly, cracking his neck. "Figured you'd never take me back, but I had to try." His tone turned conversational. "Guess I was right."
My throat closed. Not a single real tear. No remorse. Just performance.
Had I been nothing but a punchline to him?
Divorce seemed inevitable—I'd never tolerate betrayal. But something felt off.
Vincent adjusted his glasses. "If you want it fast, we can go to the courthouse now."
I nearly agreed—until his urgency clicked. "Wait. We haven't discussed assets."
Then it hit me. This was about money. Had been all along.
I stood, wiping my face, and met his gaze icily. "You think you're walking away with half?"
"Not half." He had the gall to smirk. "But even a slice of your fortune would set Bianca and me up nicely."
A high-pitched ringing filled my ears. Legally, he'd still get 20-30% even with proof he'd funneled money to his mistress.
"Get out." My whisper barely carried.
Vincent didn't hesitate. Two suitcases and he was gone.
Alone, I slid down the wall, sobs wracking my body. My brother's warning echoed: "When this fails, don't come crying to Mom and Dad. They won't care."
Two hours later, I pulled myself together. Called housekeeping to remove the glass and box his leftovers. Dialed my lawyer to start divorce proceedings.
My brother called within minutes. "Who's the mistress? Give me details."
I shot the lawyer an accusing look—he handled my brother's affairs too. I'd forgotten to demand discretion.
After summarizing the disaster, I went to hang up when my brother cut in: "What's the connection between your setup and the mistress?"
Vincent's face darkened as he stared at the photo. The silence stretched between us, fueling my rage.
"You have the nerve to look at me like that?" I spat. "Not only did you cheat, but you tried to pawn me off on another man—playing the victim first! What twisted game were you playing?"
For just a heartbeat, something poisonous flashed in his eyes before he collapsed to his knees.
"I lost my mind, darling. It'll never happen again." His voice cracked with fake remorse.
As he hung his head in shame, bitter realization washed over me. I'd been a fool—blinded by love, too arrogant to imagine Vincent would ever stray.
"What does she have that I don't?" My hands shook. "How did this even start?"
He swallowed hard. "Two months before the wedding. She works reception at my gym... Please, forgive me."
The slap rang out before I'd even decided to strike him. "We're done. Divorce."
"Don't leave!" He grabbed my leg, voice breaking. "Just pay Bianca to take care of the baby and she'll disappear—"
"A baby?!" I kicked him away, sending a wine bottle shattering against the floor. Red liquid spread like blood toward my feet. "You got her pregnant?!"
My scream tore through the apartment until my voice gave out. The room spun.
"All those nights you 'needed to focus on fitness'—you were just avoiding me while knocking up some gym rat?"
He kept his eyes down. "I'll end it. We can move past this—"
"Move past this?!" Hysterical laughter bubbled up with my tears. "I wouldn't trust you if she vanished tomorrow! Now you expect me to believe you'll abandon your own child? You'd swear on your life knowing damn well karma won't strike you down!"
The silence thickened until he finally muttered, "Then let's divorce."
I collapsed onto the couch, gasping for air.
When he looked up, he was smiling.
That grin froze my blood.
Vincent stood slowly, cracking his neck. "Figured you'd never take me back, but I had to try." His tone turned conversational. "Guess I was right."
My throat closed. Not a single real tear. No remorse. Just performance.
Had I been nothing but a punchline to him?
Divorce seemed inevitable—I'd never tolerate betrayal. But something felt off.
Vincent adjusted his glasses. "If you want it fast, we can go to the courthouse now."
I nearly agreed—until his urgency clicked. "Wait. We haven't discussed assets."
Then it hit me. This was about money. Had been all along.
I stood, wiping my face, and met his gaze icily. "You think you're walking away with half?"
"Not half." He had the gall to smirk. "But even a slice of your fortune would set Bianca and me up nicely."
A high-pitched ringing filled my ears. Legally, he'd still get 20-30% even with proof he'd funneled money to his mistress.
"Get out." My whisper barely carried.
Vincent didn't hesitate. Two suitcases and he was gone.
Alone, I slid down the wall, sobs wracking my body. My brother's warning echoed: "When this fails, don't come crying to Mom and Dad. They won't care."
Two hours later, I pulled myself together. Called housekeeping to remove the glass and box his leftovers. Dialed my lawyer to start divorce proceedings.
My brother called within minutes. "Who's the mistress? Give me details."
I shot the lawyer an accusing look—he handled my brother's affairs too. I'd forgotten to demand discretion.
After summarizing the disaster, I went to hang up when my brother cut in: "What's the connection between your setup and the mistress?"
End of Sexy Gym Owner Lady Chapter 6. Continue reading Chapter 7 or return to Sexy Gym Owner Lady book page.