My Water Broke During His Ex's Hostage Crisis

Chapter 8

Without a second thought, I transferred fifty thousand to the nanny for a year's rent.

She tried to refuse, but I wasn't having it.

In that moment, I was deeply grateful that I'd never depended on Gavin financially over the years.

It was my independence that made this decision so easy now.

Just as I grabbed my luggage and got ready to head to the underground garage with the nanny, the door swung open—and there she was, Jennifer Carter.

Her eyes immediately fell on my suitcase, her brow furrowing.

"Gavin's still fighting for his life in the hospital, and you're moving out?"

Her voice oozed with accusation.

I scoffed.

"Aren't you the one who put him there in the first place?"

"Now you're trying to play the moral high ground?"

I met her gaze coldly.

"Jennifer, did your conscience fall on the floor? Should I pick it up for you?"

Her face went ashen.

"You're being petty! Gavin and I—we never—"

"No contact?"

I interrupted her, my voice icy.

"Then how did he know your foundation was running low on funds? And why did he always magically transfer money every time you needed it?"

She fell silent, her mouth opening and closing like a fish.

I kept going.

"If you don't have a response, then don't bother. Being a war correspondent doesn't give you a free pass to be a homewrecker. People are complicated—I get it."

Her lips quivered.

"Stop spreading lies! I never—"

I cut her off again.

"Funny," I said, dragging out the word.

"I never planned to interfere in your little relationship, either. So, do whatever you want."

I grabbed my suitcase and took a step toward the elevator.

"Oh, and when Gavin wakes up, tell him not to contact me unless it's about the divorce."

With that, I shoved past her and stepped into the elevator.

The nanny hurried after me, clutching Jessica in her arms, her eyes wide as if she'd seen a ghost.