Divorcing The Star: My Spectacular Comeback

JENSEN POV:

I smoothed the black velvet of my daughter's dress for the tenth time.

"Quietly, Zoe," I whispered, my voice swallowed by the cavernous silence of St. Trinity Church. She fidgeted in the front-row pew, her small feet not quite reaching the floor.

My eyes scanned the rows of somber, black-clad figures, searching.

There he was. My husband.

Jared Montgomery stood several rows back, an island of cold indifference. He was murmuring to his team manager, his broad shoulders set in a line of perfect composure. He was a star player for the New York Sabers, a prince of the city's ice hockey dynasty, and even in grief, he looked untouchable.

I tried to catch his eye. A flicker of acknowledgment, a sign that we were in this together.

His gaze swept past me, a brief, dismissive glance that held no recognition. As if I were a stranger. As if the small girl beside me wasn't his own daughter.

A familiar coldness seeped into my chest. This wasn't new.

Ever since Crystal Sellers had returned to New York, Jared's indifference had become a wall of ice I couldn't penetrate.

The priest's voice began to echo, the formal rites of his grandmother's funeral washing over us. I took Zoe's small, cool hand in mine. We were our own island, my daughter and I.

I could feel the weight of stares from the other guests. Pity. Curiosity. A glint of satisfaction in some. The wife who was never quite good enough.

Then, a side door creaked open.

A woman with platinum blonde hair and a dress that clung to her like a second skin slipped inside.

Crystal Sellers.

Her arrival sent a ripple through the pews. The whispers now had a target.

I watched Jared. His body, once relaxed, went rigid. A crack finally appeared in his marble facade.

Crystal's gaze swept across the crowd, landing precisely on him. Her blue eyes welled with tears, her expression one of perfect, heartbreaking fragility. A white rose about to wilt.

And then Jared moved.

Not toward me. Not toward his grieving mother.

He moved toward her.

He crossed the aisle, right in front of everyone, and placed a hand on the small of her back. He drew her into a protective embrace, his head bent low as he murmured words of comfort I couldn't hear.

The blood in my veins turned to slush. That gesture. The way he shielded her from the world.

He used to do that for me.

A memory, sharp and unwelcome, pierced through the fog of the funeral. Our first year of marriage, when the pressure of being a Montgomery had me sleepless for weeks, he'd held me just like that. He'd called me "my star."

A sickening thought coiled in my stomach.

Who was he calling his star?

Was it me? Or was he always looking through me, at her?

Nausea churned, hot and acidic. I squeezed Zoe's hand, anchoring myself to the present.

My daughter sensed my tremor. She tightened her grip and looked up at me, her wide, worried eyes a silent question she couldn't voice.

I took a shaky breath. Not here. I would not fall apart here.

When the service ended, the guests began to file out, but the press surged forward like sharks smelling blood.

Flashes erupted, a blinding storm of light. Nearly every lens was aimed at Jared and the woman he sheltered in his arms.

He used his large frame to block her from the cameras, his face a mask of fierce protectiveness.

"Mr. Montgomery, what is your relationship with Miss Sellers?" a reporter shouted.

"What are your thoughts on her return to New York?"

He didn't answer, simply tightened his hold on Crystal and steered her toward a private exit.

Not a single reporter looked at me.

I, Jensen Montgomery, his legal wife, stood with our daughter, completely invisible.

Then, a young intern, perhaps by mistake, swung his camera toward me. The flash was a physical blow, momentarily blinding me.

I flinched, instinctively pulling Zoe closer, shielding her face with my hand.

My movement drew more of them. The sharks had found new blood in the water.

The cameras turned on me, the abandoned wife, my face pale and exposed.

I heard the whispers.

"Look, she's about to cry."

"So pathetic. But what did she expect, marrying into that family?"

I straightened my spine. I would not give them the satisfaction of my tears.

Clutching my daughter, I walked. Step by step, through the gauntlet of pitying, judging, and malicious eyes, I made my way out of the church.

The cold outdoor air was a shock, clearing some of the fog from my brain.

I watched Jared's black Bentley speed away, carrying him and the person he chose to protect.

I looked down at the silent child in my arms. Her eyes, a mirror of my own, reflected my pallor and helplessness.

And in that moment, a decision, cold and sharp as a shard of ice, lodged itself deep in my heart.