?<strong>Chapter 834:</strong>


    Jett sighed heavily and stepped closer, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her into aforting embrace.


    Dulce rested her head against his chest, her sobs muffled against him.


    She felt safe enough to cry only in front of those she trusted most—her family.


    A sleek ck car slowly rolled out of the neighborhood.


    Inside the car were Michael, Fiona, and Fiona’s son.


    Fiona was the first to spot Dulce and Jett, her eyes narrowing as she pointed them out to Michael. “Michael, look at this. Women like her are just looking for excitement. They don’t take rtionships seriously.”


    Jett’s back was turned to them, and Michael nced briefly in their direction. He didn’t recognize Jett and quickly turned his gaze away. “It’s none of my business.”


    The car merged onto the main road, passing Jett’s vehicle as it sped along. Fiona’s phone buzzed with a call from the nightclub, informing her that her husband had drunk too much and needed to be picked up. With a child in tow, Fiona knew she couldn’t go to such a ce.


    Michael, sensing an opportunity to assess just how much of a mess her husband really was, decided to step in and handle it.


    Fiona went home with her child, while Michael headed to the nightclub. Inside, the air was thick with smoke, and the atmosphere was chaotic—men and women lounging in scattered groups,ughing and shouting over the ring music.


    Fiona’s husband was slouched in the corner of a sofa,pletely limp, his face flushed from the excess of alcohol.


    When Michael entered, someone spotted him and eagerly made their way over. “Michael! What brings you here?”


    Without a word, Michael kicked Fiona’s husband, Crowell Hewitt. “Wake him up.” The person rushed over but found Crowell deep in slumber, weakly waving them off as he turned over, unwilling to be disturbed.


    The person nced up at Michael, uneasy. “Did Fiona send you?”


    “You know Crowell has a wife, yet you still bring him to ces like this?”


    Michael nced around, and there wasn’t a single decent person in the room. “It’s not our fault, really! Crowell insisted oning here. We tried to get him to go home, but he wouldn’t listen.”


    Michael remained silent, his eyes fixed on Crowell.


    He hadn’t intended to get involved in Fiona and her husband’s matters, but it seemed he had no choice.


    After all, Lacey had left nothing behind—except for Fiona.


    A few dayster, Fiona and Crowell found themselves in a heated confrontation.


    Divorce had been on their minds for some time, and now the decision was all but made, but there was no easy resolution.


    The real battleground was the custody of their child and the division of assets. Crowell told Fiona bluntly that if she wanted custody, she’d have to give up any im to his wealth.


    Even though Crowell had earned the money, Fiona, having been a full-time housewife for years, had contributed immeasurably to the family and felt she was entitled to her share.


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