Jett sighed heavily and stepped closer, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her into a comforting embrace.
Dulce rested her head against his chest, her sobs muffled against him.
She felt safe enough to cry only in front of those she trusted mostâher family.
A sleek black car slowly rolled out of the neighborhood.
Inside the car were Michael, Fiona, and Fionaâs son.
Fiona was the first to spot Dulce and Jett, her eyes narrowing as she pointed them out to Michael. âMichael, look at this. Women like her are just looking for excitement. They donât take relationships seriously.â
Jettâs back was turned to them, and Michael glanced briefly in their direction. He didnât recognize Jett and quickly turned his gaze away. âItâs none of my business.â
The car merged onto the main road, passing Jettâs vehicle as it sped along. Fionaâs phone buzzed with a call from the nightclub, informing her that her husband had drunk too much and needed to be picked up. With a child in tow, Fiona knew she couldnât go to such a place.
Michael, sensing an opportunity to assess just how much of a mess her husband really was, decided to step in and handle it.
Fiona went home with her child, while Michael headed to the nightclub. Inside, the air was thick with smoke, and the atmosphere was chaoticâmen and women lounging in scattered groups, laughing and shouting over the blaring music.
Fionaâs husband was slouched in the corner of a sofa, completely limp, his face flushed from the excess of alcohol.
When Michael entered, someone spotted him and eagerly made their way over. âMichael! What brings you here?â
Without a word, Michael kicked Fionaâs husband, Crowell Hewitt. âWake him up.â The person rushed over but found Crowell deep in slumber, weakly waving them off as he turned over, unwilling to be disturbed.
The person glanced up at Michael, uneasy. âDid Fiona send you?â
âYou know Crowell has a wife, yet you still bring him to places like this?â
Michael glanced around, and there wasnât a single decent person in the room. âItâs not our fault, really! Crowell insisted on coming here. We tried to get him to go home, but he wouldnât listen.â
Michael remained silent, his eyes fixed on Crowell.
He hadnât intended to get involved in Fiona and her husbandâs matters, but it seemed he had no choice.
After all, Lacey had left nothing behindâexcept for Fiona.
A few days later, Fiona and Crowell found themselves in a heated confrontation.
Divorce had been on their minds for some time, and now the decision was all but made, but there was no easy resolution.
The real battleground was the custody of their child and the division of assets. Crowell told Fiona bluntly that if she wanted custody, sheâd have to give up any claim to his wealth.
Even though Crowell had earned the money, Fiona, having been a full-time housewife for years, had contributed immeasurably to the family and felt she was entitled to her share.
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