Chapter 4 I Want A Divorce

Caitlin's face was cold and unreadable. "Yeah, I slapped you! If your parents skipped the manners talk, I'll give you one myself!"

The entire room fell into stunned silence. No one moved. No one even breathed.

The Caitlin standing before them didn't match the woman they thought they knew. Where was the quiet, timid assistant? This Caitlin had fire in her eyes and steel in her voice.

Leanne scanned the room, hoping someone would come to her defense. But all she saw were blank stares and curious eyes. No one looked concerned. No one spoke up. The realization hit her hard-she was on her own, humiliated and ignored, her pride crumbling in front of everyone.

Refusing to back down, she lifted her hand, aiming to return the slap.

But Caitlin, tall and balanced without the need for stilettos, casually sidestepped. Leanne's heel caught awkwardly on the floor, and in a split second, she crashed to the floor, face-first.

The sharp pain shot up her leg, and humiliation burned hotter than the sting on her knees. Fighting back tears, she snapped, "Caitlin Hewitt, you slut! Don't act all high and mighty. I saw your résumé when you joined the company-you seduced someone to get in! Everyone knows! You were assigned an easy role because someone felt sorry for you. You're nothing but a gold-digger!"

Caitlin marched over, grabbed Leanne's collar, and raised her hand-ready to silence her once and for all.

But just as her hand was about to land, someone caught her wrist in midair.

The grip was firm, the fingers long and toned, and a sleek designer watch glinted beneath the light.

Her eyes followed the arm and locked onto Isaac's stormy glare.

"Are you not done creating a scene?" he asked sharply.

As soon as Isaac stepped in, the air went still.

Pain shot through Caitlin's wrist from how tightly he was holding her, and a mix of sadness and frustration rose in her chest, making her eyes sting. She bit the inside of her cheek to stop the tears.

Leanne, meanwhile, had already jumped to her feet. Sensing a chance to turn things in her favor, she pointed at Caitlin with trembling anger. "Mr. Mason, Caitlin's been throwing her weight around just because she's your assistant! We were only praising Miss Rowe a little, and she lashed out at me for no reason!"

Not only did she act like the victim, but she even dragged Emmalyn's name into the drama.

Isaac's eyes swept across the room, his face calm but ice-cold. The pressure in the air was suffocating.

Leanne gave a pleading look to the people nearby-and it worked. "Caitlin started it," someone mumbled.

Then came Isaac's verdict. "Caitlin, apologize."

Caitlin's heart dropped. He didn't even ask what happened. He'd already chosen sides.

Leanne, catching the way Caitlin had gone silent, raised her voice deliberately. "Mr. Mason, she's not even apologizing. Is she questioning your authority?"

Isaac's voice dropped a degree colder. "Caitlin. Apologize. Now."

The sound of her heart breaking was almost audible to Caitlin. Her pride twisted painfully inside her chest. All she could focus on was Isaac's expressionless face and the sharpness in his voice.

She clenched her fist so tight her nails bit into her skin-anything to keep the tears from spilling.

The inside of her cheek bled from how hard she bit it, but she still held her head up and muttered, "I'm sorry."

Deep down, she blamed herself; loving Isaac was a mistake.

She didn't look back. She just turned and walked straight out of the break room.

"Robert, let her know she's not to report in tomorrow," Isaac said flatly.

Then he left, heading back to his office, haunted by the look in Caitlin's eyes-one that burned far deeper than anger.

Leanne stood frozen, stunned by what just happened. She turned toward Robert, confused. "Wait... Mr. Mason was referring to Caitlin, wasn't he?"

Robert shot her a flat look. "Ms. Barnett, you'll need to handle the severance procedure."

Caitlin might not have been loved, but she still had a title-Isaac's wife.

By embarrassing Caitlin in front of others, Leanne had unknowingly insulted Isaac as well.

Knowing Isaac's temper, there was no way he would let something like that slide.

When Caitlin got back to her desk, she saw that several of the emails she had sent earlier had already received responses.

The design firms she had reached out to were open to hiring new designers. In short, they were impressed with her résumé and wanted to set up interviews.

As she scrolled through the replies, a bit of the heaviness in her chest began to ease. The positive responses gave her a small sense of hope.

On the other hand, Isaac walked into his office and pressed his fingers against his forehead, clearly worn out.

Robert came in behind him, placing a pile of reports neatly on the desk. After a short pause, he finally said, "Mr. Mason, I heard that Caitlin's mother is in critical condition and the surgery costs around a million."

Isaac was about to sign a document, but his hand stopped mid-air. "When did this happen?" he asked.

"Last night," Robert answered.

Isaac flung the pen onto the desk, a flicker of frustration passing over his face.

Why didn't Caitlin just come to him about it? Did she really expect him to read her mind about something this serious?

He had enough on his plate-he didn't need to deal with emotional mind games on top of it all.

Robert watched him closely, and then cautiously asked, "Mr. Mason?"

Isaac grabbed another pen and started signing again, his face giving nothing away. "Send the money from my personal account to hers."

When work wrapped up, Isaac took the private elevator down to the second basement and slid into his sleek black Maybach.

He waited for ten minutes, but Caitlin was nowhere to be seen.

He set aside his newspaper, glanced at the time, and called Robert. "Let Caitlin know I'm waiting."

"Mr. Mason, she left a while ago," Robert answered, unaware she had skipped the usual ride.

Isaac ended the call and instructed the driver to leave.

By the time he reached their villa, the lights upstairs were already lit.

He headed directly upstairs and pushed open the door to the master bedroom.

There, in the center of the room, stood two suitcases-one zipped up tightly, the other still being filled. Caitlin was calmly folding her clothes into it.

Isaac tugged at his tie and sank into the nearby sofa. "What are you doing?" he asked, brows furrowed.

Caitlin kept moving around the room-not cleaning, not organizing, but packing steadily like someone ready to leave and not come back.

He assumed she was acting out and couldn't help the annoyance that began to rise.

He hadn't even mentioned how she walked out of work unannounced, and yet here she was acting like the wronged one.

"I heard about your mother. The money's already been wired to your account," he said casually.

His tone was indifferent, like he was tossing some spare change to someone on the street.

Caitlin, however, didn't respond. She didn't even look his way.

Isaac's patience wore thinner. "If a million isn't enough, just say it. I'll give you more. But stop using this as an excuse to storm back to your mother's home!"

Caitlin zipped up the second suitcase and finally lifted her gaze to meet his.

Her voice was steady and quiet. "Isaac, I want a divorce."

Isaac sat there, completely caught off guard.

Caitlin had never spoken to him like this before-not even close.

It had been two full years since they agreed to that prenup, and now they had already got used to each other's presence. Not once had she whined or brought up divorce.

To him, this was just Caitlin lashing out, saying things she didn't mean.

He leaned back comfortably, one leg resting on the other, and said coolly, "Caitlin, we both know the prenup leaves you with zero if we split. Your mom still needs help, and the Hewitt family's depending on you. How exactly do you plan to manage without being Mrs. Mason? Or is this your way of pressuring me-for more cash?"

He smirked, his voice soaked in mockery.

Caitlin was shaking with fury, her eyes watery as she snapped through clenched teeth, "I'm already job hunting. I'm done taking your filthy money!"

Isaac's expression shifted. "Do you even understand what it means to leave with absolutely nothing?"

"I do!" she burst out, unable to hold it in any longer. She gestured toward the house around them. "None of this matters. It's not like you've ever treated me like your wife. Yeah, you hand me money every month... but only after you've slept with me. Do you even realize what that feels like? It makes me feel cheap... like I'm just some call girl you pay afterward, not your wife. Like I'm nothing."

Finally, the tears spilled over.

Isaac's expression hardened, his whole face turning cold and dangerous.

"A call girl, huh?" he repeated, his voice low and chilling.