Chapter 4: Divorce Papers and Dirty Laundry

After leaving the company, I didn’t go home. Instead, I booked a hotel room.

Jenna Ford didn’t disappoint—she contacted me in just an hour and a half.

In the original story, Jenna was a minor character, but she was very confident in her looks, almost to the point of arrogance. When Nina Summers caught Sam’s eye, Jenna was green with jealousy. And women’s intuition is scary accurate.

Jenna Ford was the first to suspect something between Sam and Nina. Out of complicated motives, she took photos of every ambiguous moment between them. Those photos ended up in Mariah’s hands and became the spark that set her off.

I wasn’t looking to go full villain, but come on—who doesn’t love a little dirt?

I paid Jenna for all her gossip and evidence. She was thorough—not just photos, but videos too.

I stared at them for nearly two hours, eyes burning, stomach growling.

I rubbed my temples. I had no appetite, but thinking of the little seed in my belly, I ordered food anyway. Was that, like, prenatal neglect?

The moment I hung up with room service, my phone rang. It was Sam.

7:27 p.m.—his usual time to get home.

I didn’t answer. Hung up immediately. He didn’t call again.

That was so like Sam Sanders.

After hanging up, I called my lawyer, Mr. Holden.

“Ms. Brooks, what can I do for you?”

“Draft a divorce agreement for me. I need it tomorrow.”

He seemed stunned, silent for a while.

“Hello? Mr. Holden?”

He finally snapped out of it. “What? Whose divorce agreement?”

I laughed. Who else would I ask him to draft a divorce for?

“Mine. For me and Sam Sanders.”

This time, he recovered quickly. “Alright. How do you want to divide the assets?”

I said, “What’s mine stays mine, what’s his stays his. I don’t want any of the joint assets.”

Sam and I both had our own businesses, but there was plenty of joint property too—years of investments and collections, not something you could split up quickly.

Mr. Holden said, “So… you’re walking away with nothing?”

…

I didn’t like the sound of that.

“Then let’s do this—he gives up all the joint assets. I’ll take everything.”

Sam could afford it.

“Understood. I’ll draft it right away and send it to you.”

Guy works fast. Thirty minutes later, the draft hit my inbox. I hadn’t even finished dinner. I made a mental note to give him a big bonus at the end of the year.

After dinner, I went downstairs to print the divorce papers and those photos.

As soon as I opened the door, a shadow loomed overhead. I jumped, looking up in alarm—it was Sam. His brows were furrowed, face stormy.

I shot back, “Trying to scare me to death?”

I wasn’t surprised he came. He was a responsible man—so long as I was his responsibility, he’d never just leave me be. If I didn’t answer his calls, he’d definitely come find me.

“Why didn’t you come home?” he asked, voice low.

“Perfect timing. Come in and sit. I have something to say.”

I started to head out.

“Where are you going?”

“To print something.”

“I’ll go with you.”

I pushed past him, giving him a look that brooked no argument. “No need. Just wait here.”

Sam frowned, but let me go.

In the elevator, I took a deep breath, steadying my shaking hands. “Pathetic,” I muttered at myself.

When I got back, Sam was sitting stiffly on the couch, as proper as ever—like an emotionless robot. But after seeing those photos this afternoon, I knew better.

I glanced at him, then looked away. There were two copies of the divorce agreement. I signed both, then handed one and a pen to Sam.

He took it, looking confused, but as soon as he saw the words, his face changed. He looked up at me in disbelief.

“Divorce? You want a divorce?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

He stared at me, eyes dark. I met his gaze calmly.

After a long moment, he threw the papers on the table.

“Why?”

I tossed the printed photos in front of him. The top one was of him and Nina Summers standing on the rooftop, gazing at each other and smiling. The angle was perfect, capturing the look in their eyes.

Sam flipped through the photos, face unreadable, not even his hands shaking.

I snorted. Compared to my reaction, he was ice cold.

“You’ve been spying on me?” he asked, impatience and anger in his eyes.

I laughed, exasperated. “So all you can think about after seeing these is blaming me? Sam Sanders, impressive—you’ve really mastered the art of deflecting.”

“But just so you know, I didn’t follow you. Someone else took these and I bought them. Problem? Planning to sue me for violating your privacy? Go ahead!”

Sam frowned. “That’s not what I meant. There’s nothing between me and her. We’re just colleagues. If you’re upset over her, you don’t need to be.”

“Ha!”

I sneered. “Sure, you didn’t hold hands, didn’t hug, didn’t kiss, didn’t sleep together. So what? Am I supposed to wait until you really cheat before I react?”

“Sorry, that’s not my bottom line.”

Sam’s eyes turned icy. He stepped closer. “Mariah Brooks, what’s your problem? I told you, there’s nothing between us. What more do you want?” Ouch. So now I was the problem.

I frowned and stepped back. “Are you deaf? I said I want a divorce. I’m not staying with someone who could cheat at any moment.”

Sam grew agitated, voice rising. “Mariah, stop making a scene. Pack your things and come home. I can pretend none of this happened.”

That pissed me off. “Pretend nothing happened? Why should I? You do something shameless and still have the nerve to argue with me? Divorce. I want a divorce. Right now.”

“Enough!” Sam shouted. I flinched.

His eyes burned. “Mariah, don’t let me hear those words again. You’re not a child. Take responsibility for what you say.”

Oh, hell no. That set me off. Responsibility? How dare he say that to me?

Without thinking, I grabbed my bag and threw it at him. I pulled out a photo and slapped it in his face.

In the photo, Sam was eating muffins Nina had baked, holding a cup of orange juice. The date was just two days ago.

“I get up an hour early every morning to make you coffee and sandwiches, never sleeping in. I’ve taken care of you, and you toss it aside for some scraps someone else gives you? Pathetic.”

My chest heaved with anger.

“You want to talk responsibility, Sam? Who are you to talk to me about that?”