“I’ve got news for you,” Damion said, voice laced with amusement.

“It’s about Esther, isn’t it?” Krystal asked, already knowing. “She tried to drug Lorenzo last night and sleep with him, but that failed. So now, of course, she had to try something dramatic to grab his attention.”

Damion chuckled. “You’re not wrong.”

“Let’s meet for drinks. At Sunny’s, in an hour,” she said with a smirk and hung up.

One hour later, Krystal was driving, music blasting through the speakers. She tapped her foot along toThe Blackby Taylor Swift, grinning as she sang along.

“God, it feels so damn good not being married anymore,” she muttered, her smile growing. “I don’t have to report my everymove. I can go wherever, whenever I want.” Her voice dripped with relief. “So much better than slaving away for that Cactus and not even getting a thank you.”

She tilted her head, slipped on her sunglasses, and pulled into the parking lot of Sunny’s. The music volume dropped as she turned the key.

Just as she was about to step out, she noticed a sleek black car next to hers. The driver’s window rolled down, revealing a handsome man with a chiseled jaw and a teasing grin.

He wore a sharp navy suit, perfectly tailored to his lean frame, with the collar of his crisp white shirt slightly open. His hair was neatly styled, but there was a boyish charm in the way he smiled, like he was always on the verge of a joke.

“Great vibe with that song,” he said, clearly amused.

“Thanks,” she replied with a bright smile, too high on her freedom to hide her good mood.

She stepped out of the car.

Larry, the man in the car, couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was stunning. Long, dark hair, and eyes so captivating he forgot to breathe for a second. His heart hadn’t raced like this in a long time.

“Are you from Manhattan too?” he asked, flashing a flirtatious smile.

“Yes,” the woman replied, slamming the car door shut and striding toward Sunny’s bar.

“Hey!” the man called after her.

She turned slightly, long hair whipping in the breeze with the motion.

“Can I get your number?” he asked, flashing a confident smile. “I’d love to take you out sometime.”

“No, thanks.” She smiled—cool, polite—and turned away, walking toward the bar like she hadn’t just dismissed him with a single word. “I’m happy being single.”

Larry let out a low groan, watching her go.

He sat behind the wheel of one of the most expensive cars money could buy, and judging by the attention he usually got from women, he wasn’t bad-looking either. Her rejection caught him off guard. But oddly enough… he was impressed.

With a small sigh, he patted his chest. “Alright. I’ll be the bigger man and live with the first rejection of my life.”

Once she disappeared from view, Larry finally stepped out of the car, twirling his keys as he made his way inside the bar.

Chapter 12 You’re Still My Wife

He climbed the stairs to the bar’s upper floor and glanced around, quickly spotting a table of familiar faces. With a smirk, he walked straight to them and slapped a hand on Michael and Lorenzo’s backs.

“Brothers! Let’s raise a glass to all the weeks you missed me.”

Michael rolled his eyes, leaning back with a glass of whiskey. Lorenzo didn’t bother responding and quietly drank from his glass, the same amber liquid in hand, his posture relaxed, eyes half-lidded.

Larry slid into the seat beside Michael and glanced over at Lorenzo. “Didn’t you get divorced recently? How’s life now? Better? Happier?” He smirked and grabbed a glass of whiskey off the table.

Lorenzo turned to him with a cold stare. “What’s it to you?”

Larry frowned, clearly offended. “What’s it to me? Seriously? We’ve been friends for years, man. You didn’t even let us meet your wife—and you were married for two years! That’s not a small thing. Now she’s your ex, and we still don’t know what she looks like.” He put his glass down with a thud, leaned in across the table. “Alright. At least show me a photo.”