Moving on to the next…
Chloe
The private dining room at La Lumière, one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city, was every bit as extravagant as I expected. Soft golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a warm glow across the marble floors and velvet-upholstered chairs. Expensive paintings, the kind no one could pronounce but everyone envied, adorned the walls. Each table was draped in pristine white cloth, and even the air smelled of wealth, a mix of rare orchids and the faintest hint of aged wine.
I arrived fashionably late, of course, strutting in on red-bottomed heels that clicked softly against the floor. The maître d', already informed of my arrival, escorted me to the private room without a word.
When I entered, I noticed him immediately. Leo. My soon-to-be ex husband. He has refused to sign the divorce papers despite making it clear that we were never getting back together.