One Night Stand With My Ex's Uncle

Anna’s POV

I stumbled into what used to be home, kicking off my heels and collapsing onto the velvet sofa, still wrapped in my coat. My head was swimming from the champagne, but I was sober enough to deal with my ex-husband.

Jack stood in the kitchen doorway, brows furrowed. "Have you been drinking?"

I didn’t bother responding. Once, I would have craved that concern in his eyes. Now, it just seemed pathetic. Our divorce was final who was this performance for?

"What do you want? Just say it," I said without looking at him, wanting this conversation over before it began.

I felt his gaze linger on my flawless makeup and smiled inwardly. Had he expected to find me wasting away after the divorce, instead of glowing with a confidence I’d sharpened like a blade?

"There are issues with the joint project between our companies that need your attention..." he said evenly, as if assigning a routine task.

I burst out laughing. "You want me to fix it? Are you delusional, Mr. Simpson?" My voice dripped with sarcasm. "Your girlfriend is the project manager. How appropriate would it be to have your ex-wife clean up her mess?"

The mention of her reopened the wound.

That project had been built on countless sleepless nights my team, my strategy, my vision. And he handed it over to his new flame with a single word. Just like that.

In that moment, I realized that all the love I’d poured into our marriage had been like water thrown into the ocean unseen, unnoticed, and swallowed whole.

"I have no obligation to help," I said coldly, turning to leave.