ROOSEVELT’S POV

"What voice note?" Zyran asked, his dark brows knitting in confusion. The heat from our kiss still sparked in his eyes, but shock chilled it. "Roosevelt, what are you talking about?"

Cameras flashed wildly. Reporters barked our names, begging for another kiss or pose.

But I dropped my smile. I locked onto my husband.

"The audio message," I said, my tone deadpan despite my shattered heart. "You promised her that once this Gala wrapped, you'd have your lawyers draft divorce papers to bring her home."

Zyran went ashen. He stared at me like I’d sprouted a second head.

"Divorce?" he echoed. The word sounded foreign on his tongue....