Rebirth: The New Bride Wants A Divorce-Chapter 505: don’t sell my soul just to soar higher

"I—I had some work," Roseline said, her voice betraying her despite her effort to remain composed.

Hugo did not blink.

"What work?"

The question was simple.

The weight behind it was not.

Roseline felt cornered. She had two options. Tell him the truth and risk everything collapsing. Or redirect the storm.

She chose the latter.

She swallowed, forcing her breathing to steady as she held his unwavering gaze.

"I needed to breathe," she said quietly. "And clearly, our house wasn’t the best place to do that."

Hugo’s brow arched slightly.

"Oh?"

"You yelled at me, Hugo," she continued, her voice tightening. "You’ve never done that before. Not once."

He remained silent.

"That hurt," she added softly. "Staying in this house after that... it only reminded me of how much you’ve started to despise me."

There it was.

A calculated tremor entered her voice.

Hugo watched her carefully.

"I know I’ve made mistakes," she went on, blinking rapidly as if holding back tears. "And yes, I tried to justify them. But you..." Her voice cracked. "You keep looking at me like I’m a liability."

Still, he did not interrupt.

"You question my every move now," she said, taking a slow step closer. "You look at me like I’m waiting to betray you."

A tear finally slipped down her cheek.

It wasn’t entirely fake.

Fear had a way of assisting performance.

"And lately..." she continued, her voice lower now, steadier despite the tears, "I’ve started to think maybe you no longer need me."

Silence.

Heavy.

Hugo’s expression did not soften. It did not harden either.

It remained unreadable.

Roseline felt the tension coiling inside her chest.

She had always known how to navigate conversations. How to shift the emotional center of a room. How to make people question themselves before questioning her.

But Hugo was not most people.

"You left because I raised my voice?" he asked finally.

His tone was calm.

Too calm.

Roseline nodded faintly. "Yes."

"And that required secrecy?"

Her heart skipped.

"I wasn’t being secretive."

"You were."

His words were firm, not loud.

Roseline blinked again, letting another tear fall.

"I didn’t think I needed to report my every step," she said. "Not when I was only trying to collect myself."

Hugo studied her for a long moment.

"Collect yourself from what?" he asked quietly.

"From feeling unwanted," she replied immediately.

The answer came too smoothly.

Hugo noticed.

"You think I don’t need you?" he repeated.

"You don’t look at me the same anymore," she said quietly.

Hugo’s expression did not soften.

"And what’s wrong with that," he replied evenly, "when you’ve given me every reason to doubt you, Roseline?"

Her lips parted, but no words came out.

"How can I not doubt you?" he continued, his tone calm but cutting. "All you’ve done is lie. And now that I’m finally seeing things clearly, all I can think is that you’ve been the opportunist here."

Roseline felt the ground shift beneath her.

"What are you trying to say, Hugo?" she asked, forcing her voice to remain steady. "Are you saying that everything I did for you had an ulterior motive?"

His gaze held hers without hesitation.

"Is that not the case?"

The question struck harder than an accusation.

Roseline stared at him, stunned.

Hugo had always known, at least in part, why she married him. It was never purely love. It was safety. It was Anna. It was protection from a past she could not escape.

And he had known that.

He had been clever enough to secure his position by subtly pushing Anna aside in the beginning, ensuring Roseline remained bound to him, to his protection, to his rules.

But now, as he replayed it in his mind, he saw the flaw in his own actions. Anna had been nothing more than a child caught between adult strategies. She had not deserved the distance. She had not deserved to be used as leverage in a silent power struggle.

"You married me because you needed something," Hugo said quietly. "Not because you chose me."

Roseline’s throat tightened.

"I stayed," she whispered. "I built this home with you."

"And you kept secrets in it," he replied.

The silence between them thickened.

"You’re free to go wherever you want, Roseline," Hugo said after a moment, his voice lowering. "But make sure you don’t do something that burns the bridges between us."

It wasn’t a threat.

It was worse.

It was a boundary.

Roseline looked at him carefully, something unsettled flickering in her eyes. There was a finality in his words that made her stomach tighten. The calm warning in his tone sent a chill down her spine.

For the first time, she sensed that Hugo was not simply questioning her.

He was reassessing her place in his life.

"I—I won’t," she whispered.

But even as the words left her mouth, she knew they carried no truth.

And Hugo, judging by the way he held her gaze for a second longer before turning away, knew it too.

***

Kathrine drove to work as she did every morning, her movements steady, her expression composed.

Routine grounded her.

It kept her mind from wandering into places it shouldn’t.

But the moment she stepped into her office and closed the door behind her, she stopped.

Someone was already seated inside.

Norma.

The Chairwoman sat comfortably on the visitor’s chair as if she owned the space, legs crossed elegantly, gloved hands resting on her purse. Her presence was polished, controlled, and deliberate.

Kathrine’s eyes sharpened almost imperceptibly.

"I wasn’t informed about your visit, Mrs. Chairwoman," she said evenly as she placed her bag on the desk.

Norma’s lips curved faintly. "Do I require an appointment to see my own board member?"

Kathrine offered a polite smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "Not at all. I simply prefer knowing when I’ll be hosting."

Norma studied her for a moment.

"You look well," she commented as she looked at her head to toe as if examining her.

"I make sure of it." Kathrine smirk holding her eyes.

The air between them felt thin, stretched by unspoken knowledge.

She knew Norma came to check after putting her under pressure was she still able to work or would she give up. But she didn’t knew she wasn’t someone who would get scared because she was making things difficult for her.

Kathrine walked around her desk and took her seat, deliberately not offering tea or pleasantries.

"To what do I owe the honor?" she asked.

Norma tilted her head slightly. "Must there be an agenda every time I visit?"

"With you?" Kathrine replied softly. "Usually."

A flicker of amusement crossed Norma’s eyes.

"You’ve grown sharper," she observed. "Leadership suits you."

"Pressure does that."

Norma uncrossed her legs slowly. "Pressure is inevitable when one carries a legacy."

Kathrine held her gaze. "Is this about my father?"

"It’s about perception," Norma corrected smoothly. "Investors are still whispering. They are uncertain whether your... stability is permanent."

"And you share that uncertainty?" Kathrine asked.

Norma smiled faintly. "I share concerns."

Silence lingered for a second.

Kathrine leaned back slightly in her chair. "If this is about performance, the numbers speak for themselves."

"Oh, I’m not questioning your competence," Norma replied. "I’m questioning your judgment."

Kathrine’s fingers tightened subtly on the armrest.

"In what regard?"

Norma tilted her head slightly. "Must there be an agenda every time I visit?"

"With you?" Kathrine replied softly. "Usually."

A flicker of amusement crossed Norma’s eyes.

"You’ve grown sharper," she observed. "Leadership suits you."

"Pressure does that."

Norma uncrossed her legs slowly. "Pressure is inevitable when one carries a legacy."

Kathrine held her gaze. "Is this about my father?"

"It’s about perception," Norma corrected smoothly. "Investors are still whispering. They are uncertain whether your... stability is permanent."

"And you share that uncertainty?" Kathrine asked.

Norma smiled faintly. "I share concerns."

Silence lingered for a second.

Kathrine leaned back slightly in her chair. "If this is about performance, the numbers speak for themselves."

"Oh, I’m not questioning your competence," Norma replied. "I’m questioning your judgment."

Kathrine’s fingers tightened subtly on the armrest.

"In what regard?"

Norma’s gaze sharpened for a fleeting second, but just as quickly, the corner of her lips curved upward.

Kathrine frowned at the subtle shift.

"Nothing," Norma said lightly. "I’m simply implying that you shouldn’t repeat what your father did, Miss Kathrine. I may have gone lenient on him, which I believe I did, but I won’t extend the same generosity to you."

Kathrine’s jaw tightened.

Lenient.

Everyone in the industry knew exactly how "lenient" Norma had been with Hugo. She had dismantled him piece by piece, exposing every questionable business move he attempted under Daniel’s guidance. One investigation after another. One audit after another. Public scrutiny wrapped in legal language.

Lenient was an insult to reality.

Kathrine held her gaze steady. "You can rest assured, Madam. I may be my father’s daughter, but I don’t sell my soul just to soar higher."

The words were calm, but deliberate.

Norma’s smile did not falter.

"That remains to be seen," she replied smoothly.

Kathrine didn’t look away. She had been disciplined from the start. Careful. Calculated. Transparent where it mattered. That was precisely why Norma hadn’t been able to dismiss her outright when she stepped forward to take over Bennett Enterprise.

She had no easy ammunition against her.

"Good," Norma said after a beat.

She reached for the paperweight on Kathrine’s desk, lifting it casually and twirling it between her fingers as if she owned not just the office, but the narrative.

"By the way," she added, her tone deceptively casual, "how is Hugo doing? I heard he suffered a heart attack."