Untouched for Three Years: Leaving My Billionaire Husband

She moved in close, lifted her face, and kissed him.It was awkward at first. Her lips brushed his with more courage than skill. She laid both hands on his chest. He felt warm and solid under her fingers. One hand slid up to his neck but she stopped short of pulling him in closer.Rebecca kept her eyes closed, perhaps to shut out any show of rejection in his expression.He smelled faintly of soap and the clean, tangy trace of cedar that had clung to his shirts for as long as she had known him. It was a scent so familiar, it never failed to tease her senses.Throughout their marriage she had slept beside it, folded it from his laundry, breathed it in from the empty side of the bed after he had already risen.She pressed her mouth to his again, a little more insistent this time, trying to follow instinct where experience failed her. One hand timidly roamed the expanse of his chest, following the contours of the muscular curves. Her other hand tightened at his neck, betraying her rising

“Hey, look, isn’t that Vance?” Sophia asked aloud, with sudden interest. “Who’s that woman with him?”Chloe craned her neck to look at the entrance to the center. Curiosity quickly gave way to recognition.“Oh,” she said, drawing the word out. “That’s Catherine, isn’t it? The one Vance used to…”Sophia shifted her gaze to Rebecca, and the sympathy etched on her face was so exaggerated, it was almost cruel.“Wait,” Sophia said, lowering her voice, “you didn’t stalk Vance here, did you? God, Rebecca. That’s actually sad.”Chloe laughed. “Imagine chasing your own husband, to spy on his date.”Rebecca heard what they hadn’t said aloud: that her husband and his first love had come here together, brazenly unapologetic, as if there was nothing strange about it at all.Rebecca shifted her attention to the lane rope in front of her, pretending she had not heard. She had become good at that, inside the Bradford family.At the aquatic center entrance, Vance Bradford stood in a dark gray lightwei

Rebecca felt herself go rigid.Slowly, she turned back. “Coach Miller,” she said quietly.“It really is you.” Miller reached her in several long strides.The face that had stared down champions, sponsors, and entire committees without softening was now filled with disbelief. His gaze moved over her old black training suit, the towel clutched around her shoulders, the faint tremor she had not managed to hide.“Where the hell have you been for the past three years? Your number was disconnected. You stopped answering emails. I looked for you everywhere. It’s like you became a ghost, Rebecca.”Behind him, Vance’s expression changed. The shift was subtle, but noticeable.His gaze fixed on Rebecca with a sharpness that had been absent moments ago. She had never spoken to him about Coach Miller. As far as Vance knew, she had once been a swimmer, nothing more. He had assumed, with the careless certainty of a man who had never thought to ask, that swimming had been a schoolgirl interest, a hob

Coach Miller frowned, but he didn’t answer.Catherine went on as if she hadn’t noticed his coldness. She lifted one hand and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, offering a shy little smile that had clearly been softened for effect.“It’s just that I actually loved swimming when I was at school,” she said. “I wasn’t trained professionally, of course, but my classmates always said I had talent. I was quite good at butterfly and freestyle, and my fitness scores were always among the best in school.”As she spoke, her gaze flicked back to Vance, seeking support. An unspoken plea for him to help her carry this moment.Vance read it. His lips opened and his throat worked once as though he were about to speak.Yet, before he could, Rebecca spoke up. It was calm, mild, even touched with a little curiosity, as if she were asking a question in perfect sincerity.“Catherine, you said you were quite good at swimming in school?”Catherine paused, caught off guard by the sudden interrupti

The Reproductive Medicine Department at St Mary’s Hospital was on the fifth floor.Rebecca had come to this building so many times that even the security guard at the hospital entrance greeted her without being prompted. She had made every visit, however, alone.Today, someone walked beside her.Linda, the nurse at reception, looked up with her usual professional smile. Her gaze settled on Rebecca’s face, and the familiar greeting was already forming on her lips.“Miss Perry, your appointment today is —”Then she saw the man standing beside Rebecca.Linda’s smile froze for a full two seconds.Her eyes moved from Rebecca to the imposing man beside her, who stood more than half a head taller, his presence too polished and commanding for the department’s regular visitors. In eight years working in reproductive medicine, Linda had seen countless women come in alone. Some arrived red-eyed. Some came expressionless. Some clutched messages from partners who had refused to attend.She rarely