Chapter 5 Moved Out

Hearing the woman's moan floating from inside the private room, Felix caught on at once and quickly steered Hannah away.

Barely aware of her own steps, Hannah drifted forward, her gaze unfocused. Felix stayed by her side, neither of them saying a word for quite some time.

"You should go back," Hannah said quietly. "I'm fine by myself."

Felix shook his head. "Let me take you home."

A pause hung between them before she gave in. "Alright."

It was already past midnight by the time they reached Hannah's place.

One unshakable thought dominated Hannah's thoughts-she needed to gather her things and move out. There was no way she would spend another night with Vincent under the same roof.

Vincent was already home, waiting for Hannah's return. His eyes narrowed the instant he recognized Felix, the same man from that photograph. The tension in his jaw made it impossible to miss his displeasure.

"Why did you come back so late?" Vincent asked, though Hannah paid him no attention. She moved past him and walked straight to her room.

Felix gave a short, mocking laugh. "You're fast. Did you enjoy yourself?"

Vincent didn't respond to Felix's inexplicable jab. He plastered on a polite smile, his voice cool. "Thanks for bringing my wife home." He made a point of stressing the words "my wife" before turning around.

Felix nearly laughed at his misplaced possessiveness. In the end, he said nothing and left quietly.

Vincent strode into the bedroom and caught Hannah stuffing clothes into her suitcase. His brows furrowed as he walked over and yanked the luggage from her hands. "Where do you think you're going at this late hour?" The words came out sharp and brittle.

That photograph of Hannah dining with another man had haunted Vincent all day. Even after he wrapped up at the office, the image hadn't left his mind. He'd rushed back home, only to find it empty. His calls to Hannah went unanswered. Thus, he waited for her to return home.

For hours, the house stayed empty. And now, when she finally came back, she wasn't alone-she had come back with the very man from the photo, the one she had dined with.

Not sparing him a look, Hannah kept gathering her belongings. Her tone was cold. "It's not your problem."

Anger flickering across his eyes, he grabbed her wrist sharply. His grip was rough-too tight. She tried to wriggle free but failed. Red marks quickly appeared, pain radiating up her arm.

Realizing what he'd done, he reined himself in and muttered, "Didn't mean to."

Hannah's body shook, her mind flooded with scenes conjured up based on Brinley's moans-images of Vincent and Brinley making love. Disgust and anger washed over her in an instant. With a fierce push, she shoved him aside. "Get out of my way. I'm moving out."

His brow tightened with confusion. "This is your home. Where do you plan to run off to?"

A hollow laugh escaped her lips as tears tracked down her cheek. She wiped them away quickly, her voice dropping to a whisper. "This place stopped feeling like home the moment you let Brinley through the door."

Vincent stiffened as he grasped her meaning immediately. He frowned, frustration bubbling up. "You're overthinking it. I told you. There's nothing between us. If you really hate her that much, I'll keep her away from here. That's it. She'll never come to our home again."

Vincent's arms wrapped around her waist from behind, pulling her into his arms, her back against his chest. His hold was firm, almost desperate.

Frost gathered in Hannah's eyes. She'd caught him with Brinley three times. And he still expected her to believe him? How ridiculous.

She tried to break free from his embrace, but he held her tightly. "Let go of me," she said, her voice sharp as glass.

His grip only tightened. "No. You're not leaving me. Not ever."

Facing off with Vincent never got her anywhere. She knew that all too well. There was no winning in a head-on fight. So, she stopped struggling, her shoulders lowering, and she softened her voice to a whisper. "Alright, you win. I'll stay. Just let go of me."

Vincent shifted to face her, loosening his grip just enough, but still kept his arms wrapped around her waist, his face nestled into the crook of her neck. He loved holding her like this.

But then, an unwelcome thought gnawed at Vincent. The image of the man who'd dropped Hannah home wouldn't leave him alone. His tone turned cold. "Who exactly was the guy who dropped you off?"

Without missing a beat, Hannah gave an indifferent answer. "Just a friend," she said, inching her body away from his grasp.

Vincent's grip only tightened as suspicion crept in. His voice dropped lower. "Strange-I don't recall you ever introducing us."

No answer came from her lips. Rarely did Vincent concern himself with the details of her world. For as long as she could remember, she'd always revolved around him, never the other way around.

Sensing her mood shift, Vincent tried to steer the conversation elsewhere. "Once things settle down, let's take a trip. Clear our heads a little-then maybe we can try for a baby."

In the past, hearing such words would have sent Hannah over the moon. Now, however, the words just washed over her, meaningless. He had been tricked by her into signing the divorce agreement without even realizing it. Only twenty-three days left before his grandmother's seventieth birthday. Once the celebration wrapped up, she would walk away from his world entirely.

Hannah just gave a soft, noncommittal response.

Vincent's fingers traced the outline of her bare ring finger. A faint indentation lingered where her wedding ring once sat. "Did you take your ring off?"

Hannah slid her hand free. "Lost it accidentally," she replied, voice barely above a whisper.

Undeterred, Vincent caught her hand once more, his thumb sweeping over the faint mark on her ring finger. "It's been years. Maybe it's time we redesigned the set. Tell me what style you like-I'll have someone draw it up."

Nothing about the conversation appealed to her. "Let's talk about it later," she said, shutting the topic down. She nudged him away, her tone turning brisk as she thought of his getting laid with Brinley. "You should get cleaned up."

A smile crossed his face as he tugged her closer. "Why don't you join me? It's been forever since we shared a shower."

She stepped back and shook her head, her words deliberately misleading him. "You go ahead. Didn't you say we should try making a baby?"

"Alright," Vincent replied, starting to loosen his tie as he disappeared into the bathroom.

The second the door clicked shut, Hannah snatched up her phone. She dialed her closest friend, Rena Brown. "Can you come get me?"

Within ten minutes, headlights flashed in the driveway. Rena had arrived. Hannah didn't bother packing anymore. All she grabbed was a folder of company documents before heading out the door.

When Vincent finally stepped out from the bathroom, water still dripping from his hair, he saw only an empty room. His wife was gone.