Chapter 8 Ex-Wife
‘If it weren’t for what happened with Esther two years ago…’ Lorenzo’s gaze softened. ‘Maybe I’d be living a happy life with Krystal.’
He was used to her. Used to having her around the house. Used to her being there with him—bringing him food, fussing over him, showing up like clockwork. She was more punctual than his damn watch when it came to taking care of him.
And now?
She was gone.
The same day they signed the divorce papers, she disappeared from his life. Just like that. No calls. No message. No goodbye.
Like none of it had ever mattered. A cold, hollow space replaced it, and he didn’t know how to breathe in it.
His days had grown colder. Lonelier. And this anxiety—the kind that crept into his chest for no reason at all—was eating him alive.
How could someone who cared so deeply, walk away so easily?
This ungrateful little woman hadn’t even shown her face to him for more than an hour since they’d signed those divorce papers!
Krystal stared at him, thrown off by the expression on his face.
‘What is this look on this Cactus of a man?’ she thought, confused by the unexpected softness in his eyes. ‘We agreed to divorce. He’s not going to change his mind now, is he?’
Her heart skipped, panic rising.
She took a deep breath and stepped closer to him, a soft smile curling on her lips.
“No, baby,” she murmured, her face shifting into the familiar, practiced expression of the gentle, obedient housewife she had played for the past two years.
Her fingers reached up, brushing against his cheek, trailing softly down to his jaw.
“If you don’t want a divorce, then we can get married again. ”
Lorenzo’s features relaxed. His face, usually hard and cold, softened slightly, though it stayed quiet. Heat flooded through him where her fingers touched, and his eyes fluttered shut for a second as he breathed her in.
But the warmth also brought back a memory—two years ago, in the car. A similar touch. Fingers grazing his face, sliding down his skin, making him shiver. And he’d whispered to that woman, “I’ll take care of you”—right before he slept with her.
But that was Esther. Not Krystal. Wasn’t it?
His eyes snapped open. He pulled away from her touch, jaw tightening as he turned his face to the side. The sternness returned—but it wasn’t the cold, detached kind he usually wore. There was a fragile line of control in his body, like he was fighting something he didn’t dare admit.
“No,” he muttered, voice low and gravelly. “It’s enough.”
He looked at her, eyes still locked with hers. There was a softness in his gaze that threatened to shatter. “I can give you anything,” he said, rough and raw, “but not this.”
Krystal let out a sigh, her expression falling into quiet disappointment. Her fingers slid down from his cheek, lingered near his neck, then dropped to her sides.
But then—Lorenzo reached out and tried to grab her hand, desperate to bring it back to his face. His body moved on instinct, driven by panic and desperation to feel her touch again. But his palm met empty air. She was already stepping back.
Krystal looked down to hide her face. Her lips twitched in a barely restrained smile as she let out a soft breath, barely whispering, “Thank God,” before pressing a smile back.
“Krystal?”
She turned at the sound of her name.
Grayson stood in the doorway, wearing a warm smile.
“Grandpa.” Her smile bloomed as she walked over to him. He opened one arm and pulled her into a side hug.
Lorenzo followed her toward the entrance, standing tall behind her like a shadow. Grayson’s warm smile shifted the moment he saw him, his expression growing sharp and disapproving.
“Why does she look so weak?” Grayson asked gruffly, not bothering to lower his voice. “Haven’t you been taking care of her, you ungrateful brat?”
Lorenzo frowned. “Why do you always assume I’m the problem? When have I ever treated her badly?”
“She cooks for you, brings you food, takes care of the house, runs errands—don’t think I don’t know all of it,” Grayson snapped. “But when have I heard that you do even half of that for her? You’ve got a lot of nerve standing there acting like you’re doing your part.”
He shot Lorenzo a glare, then gently tugged Krystal with him into the house.
“Why’d you even bring this brat along?” Grayson mumbled under his breath to Krystal, shaking his head.
Krystal heard Lorenzo grit his teeth behind her. She pressed her lips together to keep a laugh from escaping.
Inside the house, the party was in full swing.
Elegant guests moved fluidly through the spacious living room, their laughter and clinking glasses blending with the soft hum of jazz in the background.
The atmosphere buzzed with energy. Champagne flowed, conversations overlapped, and servers weaved through the crowd with silver trays of gourmet bites.
Krystal and Lorenzo mingled for a while—well, Krystal mingled with the hors d'oeuvres. She was far more interested in sampling every new dish that passed her way than in small talk or networking. Sushi, sliders, smoked salmon crostinis—nothing escaped her plate.
Lorenzo, on the other hand, barely left her side.
He trailed after her silently, his tall figure looming behind her wherever she stopped to eat.
While others assumed he was casually making business conversation with the guests around him, he was mostly keeping one eye on her.
His tone was polite, his words controlled, but his focus never strayed far from Krystal.
At one point, she tossed him a look over her shoulder, raising a brow as she popped a truffle in her mouth.
He didn’t respond. Just sipped his whiskey and stayed close.
As the evening rolled on, Grayson caught their eyes from across the room. With a subtle motion of his hand, he gestured for them to come over.
Krystal straightened slightly and wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin. Then, they both made their way back to Grayson.
Grayson guided Krystal to a plush couch, and she sat down beside him. Lorenzo followed, choosing the seat directly across from her. Their eyes met briefly, and Krystal looked away, reaching into her purse.
“I brought something for you,” she said softly, pulling out a small, elegant box and handing it to Grayson.
He took it, clearly delighted by the wrapping alone, and opened it with curiosity. The moment he lifted the lid, his eyes widened.
Inside sat a platinum Signima watch—sleek, paper-thin, with intricate inscriptions etched along the band.
“This... isn’t this the limited-edition Signima?” Grayson looked at her, stunned. “This thing costs a fortune! I’ve been trying to get it for months—was even ready to pay triple for it. How did you get your hands on this?”
Krystal froze. ‘Shit.’ Her heart skipped a beat. ‘I told Darren to buy a gift. That idiot bought a rare collector’s watch? Seriously?’
She glanced nervously at Grayson, then at Lorenzo, whose gaze was pinned on her with sharp interest. He looked just as surprised. He clearly hadn’t known about the gift either.
‘I’m just a poor woman with no money now. Lorenzo won’t suspect anything, would he?’
Grayson glanced between the two of them, sensing even Lorenzo had no idea where the gift came from. The silence grew heavy until Grayson cleared his throat and asked, “So, when are you two finally going on a proper honeymoon?”
Krystal choked, caught completely off-guard. Her saliva hit the wrong way, and she started coughing, eyes wide as she looked at him in disbelief.
“Oh, come on,” Grayson muttered, snapping the box shut. “I feel more awkward asking than you do answering. You’ve been married for two years, but no honeymoon? Not even a weekend away? What the hell have you two been doing?”
Lorenzo let out a long breath and shook his head. “No, we haven’t.”
Krystal looked down at her lap, fingers twisting nervously.
‘What honeymoon?’ she thought bitterly. ‘He was so loyal to Esther he couldn’t even bring himself to kiss me, not even once.’
Grayson’s eyes narrowed on Lorenzo at his answer, then he leaned forward and asked under his breath,
“You don’t have some kind of... problem, do you?” He flicked a not-so-subtle glance down—between Lorenzo’s legs.
Krystal choked on a laugh and burst into giggles, the sound echoing in the middle of the conversation.
“Grandpa, stop it!” Lorenzo snapped, face flushing with a mix of irritation and embarrassment. “Say one more thing and I’m never visiting you again.”
Grayson ignored him, rolling his eyes as he turned back to Krystal, softening the moment he saw her smile.
“Are you lacking anything, Krystal?” he asked gently. “Tell me—should I send you some of the latest jewelry? I’ll have it delivered straight to your place.”
Krystal smiled, patting the back of his hand. “I really don’t need anything, Grandpa.”
Grayson’s expression turned tender. “You’ve been wronged by this brat, haven’t you?
” he said, voice quiet, eyes full of affection.
“You’re such a good girl. I still don’t know how you managed to live with him this long.
You’ve taken care of him like a saint. Honestly, I’m just grateful you married him.
Otherwise, this workaholic block of ice would’ve stayed buried in his office for the rest of his life, never even seeing sunlight. ”
Then Grayson turned and gave Lorenzo a sharp glare. “This brat should seriously get his head checked. Doesn’t want to be with his own wife? You’re this beautiful, and he hasn’t even taken you on one damn vacation. Something’s surely wrong with him.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Lorenzo shot to his feet, growling under his breath, his patience officially dead. He grabbed Krystal’s wrist, tugging her with him.
They walked out of the hall together, Grayson shouting after them, “Go to a damn hospital tomorrow!”
Krystal dropped her gaze to the ground and bit back another round of giggles, her shoulders trembling with the effort.