Mason’s eyes were filled with shock, his grip on the doorknob tightening, turning his knuckles white. He stood frozen, like he had been struck by lightning.
“Mason, why are you standing at the do…” Before she could finish her sentence, Phoebe caught sight of Declan standing across from Mason. Her brows furrowed instinctively. “What are you doing here?”
Declan sneered, his gaze sharp as ice as he fixed his eyes on her, “Am I interrupting something? Did I disturb your little rendezvous?”
Phoebe’s hand, which had been drying her hair, clenched slightly, but she quickly regained her composure. “You’ve seen the divorce agreement. When you’re free, let’s go get the divorce decree.”
“Phoebe, I never agreed to the divorce. Come back with me,” Declan demanded, reaching out to grab her hand. But before he could make contact, Mason immediately stepped in, positioning himself between Phoebe and Declan, blocking his path.
Declan’s icy stare locked onto Mason as he muttered coldly, “If you don’t want to get blacklisted in the entertainment industry, get out of my way.”
Mason met his gaze with a cold, unwavering defiance. “Mr. Richardson, it won’t be as easy as you think to have me blacklisted. And from what I can see, Phoebe doesn’t seem too eager to go with you.”
Mason had built up a solid network in the entertainment industry over the years, and it wouldn’t be as simple as Declan pulling the plug on him.
Declan’s eyes flashed with a deadly chill as he pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
But before he could speak, Phoebe, standing behind Mason, intervened, “Declan, he has nothing to do with this. Don’t drag him into this. Let’s talk.”
Declan lowered his phone, but the fury in his chest only seemed to grow stronger. He glared at her, his voice colder than before. “Can’t stand to see him harmed? I’ve only been gone from Roseberg for a month, and you’ve already found yourself another man. Nice work, Phoebe.”
Phoebe ignored his words, turning to Mason. “Mason, you should go inside for now.”
Mason hesitated, his concern evident. But Phoebe and Declan were still married, and he had no right to get involved in their personal matters.
“Alright. If you need anything, just call my name.” Mason nodded before stepping inside.
After Mason left, Phoebe turned to face Declan, ready to speak. But before she could get a word out, Declan grabbed her arm and started dragging her out the door.
“What are you doing?” Phoebe seethed, fury building inside her. ‘This damn jerk. We’re about to get divorced, and he still can’t act like a gentleman. What was I thinking when I decided to marry him in the first place?’ she thought.
Declan didn’t say a word, his face a frozen mask. He shoved Phoebe into the car, then got in from the other side and started the engine.
He drove fast, and within moments, they were halfway up the hillside. Phoebe clenched her teeth, glaring at him. “Let me out. Declan, is this some kind of game to you?”
“Seatbelt,” Declan barked, his grip on the steering wheel tightening until the veins in his hand were clearly visible. It was obvious how angry he was right now.
Phoebe didn’t budge, keeping her expression cool and distant as she stared at him. “Declan, when I said I wanted a divorce, I wasn’t just venting, and I wasn’t throwing a tantrum. I meant it.”
Phoebe felt a wave of irritation, her patience wearing thin. She didn’t want to waste another word on him.
Declan noticed the shift in her attitude toward him, which felt unfamiliar to him. His brows furrowed as he opened his mouth to speak again, but his phone rang, cutting him off.
Seeing Jennifer’s name flash across the screen, he glanced at Phoebe before answering, “Jennie, what’s up?”
“Deck, the power’s out at the villa, and I’m really scared. Can you come over?” Jennifer’s voice trembled as she sobbed, tinged with panic.
Declan knew she’d always been afraid of the dark since she was a child. She couldn’t even walk down dimly lit streets back then, and she always had to sleep with the lights on.
So, it was easy for him to imagine how terrified she must be, all alone in the dark, powerless villa.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be right there. Everything’s gonna be alright,” he comforted her, his tone softening.
After hanging up, he caught Phoebe watching him with a sarcastic expression. For once, he felt compelled to explain, “The villa’s got a blackout. I’m going to check on Jennie. You can take a cab back.”
He paused for a moment, then continued, “About the divorce—I advise you to give up on that idea. I won’t agree.”
Phoebe’s expression remained indifferent as she spoke, each word deliberate and cold, “Declan, whether you agree or not, it doesn’t matter to me. I don’t love you anymore, so I’m going through with the divorce.”
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