Divorcing The CEO For My Secret Daughter

"Daddy!" Little Kassie cried out, throwing her arms toward Easton.

Chastity's breath stopped. Daddy?

Karis threw herself into Easton's chest, her pale gold curls burying into his dark coat. She rubbed against him, her voice a soft, intimate whine. "Easton... it's all your fault. If you hadn't been in such a rush with me in the car, I would have kept a closer eye on her..."

The words were a deliberate, unmistakable declaration.

Easton caught Karis by the shoulders. Without a second's hesitation, he slipped off his heavy overcoat and wrapped it around her trembling frame. His slate-gray eyes—the same eyes that hadn't blinked when Chastity was bleeding out on a hospital floor—were now entirely consumed by an agonizing, protective tenderness.

Chastity stood frozen in the freezing mud.

Unexpectedly, her gaze collided with Easton's.

It was shallow. Indifferent.

In that fleeting second, he coolly looked away. Caught red-handed in an illicit affair, yet there was no panic. No explanation. Just a breezy nonchalance. It was as if she were nothing more than an insignificant stranger.

"Let's go," Karis tugged at his sleeve, her voice fragile. "Kassie is scared. She doesn't want to stay here."

"Alright," Easton said.

The three of them walked away, huddled together like a perfect family. Even as they left, Karis didn't offer a single word of apology.

Chastity stood there, repeatedly recalling the way Easton had just spoken to Karis. Gentle. Forgiving. Deeply affectionate and responsive to her every need. It was everything she had dreamed of getting for five years, yet never received.

If the epidural incident four years ago had merely chilled her heart toward Easton, witnessing his blatant betrayal tonight meant the man was now completely dead to her.

By the time Chastity and Wyatt walked out of the perimeter, the SUV that had dropped the condom was already gone.

"Damn!" Wyatt couldn't help but curse. "How desperate were they to do it in a car and forget their own kid?"

"Or it's an illicit affair," Chastity lowered her eyes to the bloody scratch on her arm. "Some men use a 50-50 financial split as an excuse to mess around outside, knowing they don't have to take any responsibility for their wife at home."

Wyatt spat on the ground in disgust. "If a scumbag is like that, I wouldn't want him even if he looked as handsome as that guy just now!"

Chastity let out a hollow, bitter laugh. "Exactly. It's filthy."

The air around them seemed to drop ten degrees.

A heavy, suffocating presence loomed behind her. Chastity turned around and met a pair of freezing, slate-gray eyes.

Easton hadn't left. He stood just a few feet away, tall and imposing, his expression a mask of lethal calm. He had heard every word.

A brief jolt of tension spiked in Chastity's chest, but she quickly crushed it. She hadn't lied. If he had the audacity to do it, why should she be afraid to say it?

Yet, Easton didn't offer a single word of fury or defense. He simply looked past her, treating her with the ultimate disdain of absolute invisibility.

"Julian," Easton's cold voice sliced through the rain as he addressed his assistant. "Have the security team distribute those relief supplies to the rescue crew. Consider it a token of my appreciation."

He walked right past her, the damp wool of his coat brushing against her shoulder. The chill he left behind was infinitely colder than the storm.

Chastity stood still, letting the biting wind clear the nausea from her chest.

She pulled out her phone, opened Elsie's video message, and typed her reply:

Baby, your daddy is dead.