After divorce ch 3

Chapter 3 Just a Toy
Reynold leaned closer, and for the first time, he noticed how petite her face was—small enough to fit in his palm. Beneath her black-framed glasses, her delicate and refined features exuded a rare beauty, especially when paired with her clear, expressive eyes.
Her lips were soft.
Where his fingers pressed against her skin, the color drained momentarily but quickly bounced back, supple and tender. It was the kind of softness that tempted one to steal a kiss.
Reynold’s gaze darkened. “I didn’t realize you had such a strong desire. Is this how much you want a man?”
Slap!
Catherine’s hand shot up, delivering a crisp slap across his face.
Reynold’s handsome face snapped to the side.
Her fingers trembled with anger. Loving him so humbly had only led to her being trampled on. Did he dare to humiliate her like this?
Furious and humiliated, Catherine spat, “I know you’ve never stopped pining for Evelyn. Fine! I’ll make it easy for you—she can have her rightful place as your wife back!”
Reynold’s expression turned icy. He had never been slapped before. Never!
His voice was cold and sharp. “Catherine, you marry me when you feel like it, and now you want a divorce on a whim? What do you take me for?”
Catherine let out a cold laugh. “A toy.”
What?
Reynold’s anger skyrocketed.
Ignoring the pain in her chest, Catherine forced herself to sneer. “You were just a toy I took from Evelyn. Now that I’m bored, I’m discarding you.”
His face grew darker. “Fine. You’ve got guts. If you want a divorce, we’ll divorce. But don’t come crying back to me later, begging for reconciliation!”
With that, Reynold stormed upstairs and slammed the door to his study so hard the sound echoed throughout the house.
Catherine felt all the strength drain from her body. Slowly, she slid down the wall until she was sitting on the carpet, hugging her knees tightly.
Reynold, I won’t love you anymore.
The next morning, the housekeeper, Joan Woodward, cautiously opened the door to the study.
Reynold sat at his desk, engrossed in paperwork. He was infamous for his workaholism.
“Mr. Reynold,” Joan called softly.
He didn’t even glance up, his entire demeanor cold and distant. It was clear he was in a terrible mood.
Joan carefully placed a cup of coffee by his side. “Mr. Reynold, Mrs. Parker made this coffee for you.”
His pen paused mid-stroke, the icy look on his face softening slightly.
Was this her way of making peace?
To be fair, Catherine had always been a good wife. She cooked his favorite meals, hand-washed his clothes, and took care of him in every possible way.
He picked up the cup and took a sip. It was the same coffee Catherine always made for him—the flavor he liked.
But he was still angry.
She had slapped him last night. That wasn’t something he could forgive with just a cup of coffee.
“Did Mrs. Parker admit she was wrong?” Reynold asked.
Joan hesitated, giving him a strange look. “Mr. Reynold, Mrs. Parker has left.”
Reynold froze and looked up at her.
Joan held out an envelope. “Mr. Reynold, Mrs. Parker left with her suitcase and asked me to give this to you.”
Reynold took the envelope and opened it. It was a divorce agreement.
He was stunned. He had assumed the coffee was her way of reconciling.
“Mr. Reynold,” Joan added hesitantly, “Mrs. Parker told me to remind you to sign the papers after you finish your coffee.”
Reynold’s gaze turned icy as he glared at the cup. “Pour it out. All of it.”
But Mr. Reynold, you seemed to enjoy it earlier …
Joan scurried away with the coffee.
Reynold’s expression darkened as he scanned the divorce papers. Catherine wasn’t asking for a single penny—she wanted to leave with nothing.
He let out a cold laugh. How ambitious of her. He wondered how a girl from the countryside planned to survive without any money. After all, she had schemed her way into marrying him three years ago—surely it was all for his wealth.
But then his sharp eyes caught the handwritten reason for the divorce.
Catherine had written: The husband has health issues, suffers from sexual dysfunction, and is unable to fulfill marital duties.
Reynold was speechless.
His handsome face turned completely black.
D*mn it!
Snatching his phone, he immediately dialed Catherine’s number.
The call connected quickly, her clear and composed voice coming through. “Hello?”
His thin lips curved into a grim line. “Catherine, get back here. Now.”
Catherine chuckled lightly. “You think I’ll come running just because you said so? We’re divorced now. I don’t have to put up with you anymore.”
Reynold ground his teeth. “I’m giving you one chance. Rewrite that reason for the divorce.”
Her laughter grew more playful. “What’s wrong with what I wrote? Reynold, it’s been six months since you woke up from your coma, but in all that time, you haven’t even held my hand. You were in a vegetative state for three years. While your overall health might have recovered, I have every reason to suspect your … other functions aren’t working. You’re just not capable anymore. My sincerest divorce blessing for you is that you recover soon!”