Replacement Twin For Billionaire

"What's wrong?" Julian's voice was a low murmur against her ear, laced with the expensive scent of whiskey and something else. Something floral and sweet. Isabelle's perfume.

His hands were about to settle on her shoulders. Chloe watched his reflection in the vanity mirror, his handsome face slightly flushed from the party. Her stomach clenched. The image of Isabelle Beaumont standing on her toes to press a lingering kiss to his lips flashed behind her eyes. He hadn't pushed her away.

In the fraction of a second before his skin could touch hers, Chloe shot up from the vanity stool. The movement was so abrupt it sent a crystal bottle of perfume tumbling onto the thick carpet with a soft thud.

Julian's hands froze in mid—air. A flicker of confusion, then annoyance, crossed his features. "Chloe?"

"Don't," she said. The word was quiet, but it hung in the air between them, sharp as broken glass.

He let his hands drop, a humorless smile touching his lips. "Still upset I didn't take you to Isabelle's birthday party? It was a business crowd. You would have been bored."

He reached for her again, this time to cup her cheek, his usual gesture of placating possession.

Chloe turned her head, his fingers brushing against nothing but air. For the first time in their three years of marriage, the practiced submissiveness in her eyes was gone, replaced by a chilling emptiness.

"Don't touch me," she said again, her voice flat.

His jaw tightened. The playful condescension vanished, replaced by the cold authority of the CEO he was. "What is this about? Stop playing games."

She didn't answer. Instead, she walked to the king—sized bed, her movements calm and deliberate, as if she were closing a deal. She pulled open the drawer of the nightstand and took out a thick manila envelope.

She tossed it onto the pristine white duvet. The sound was soft, but it landed between them like a grenade.

"Julian," she said, her eyes meeting his without a trace of fear. "Let's get a divorce."

He stared at the envelope. The typed words on the tab, "Divorce Agreement," seemed to burn into his retinas. A beat of stunned silence, then a short, incredulous laugh escaped his lips.