No Second Baby No You Only Divorce (Scarlett and Vincent) novel Chapter 702

Vincent tried to speak, but his voice came out rough and strained.

It wasn't that he had nothing to say—he just didn't know where to begin.

Seeing how composed Vincent appeared, Scarlett pressed on. "Vincent, I'll be straight with you—this isn't even that big of a deal anymore. I told you the truth, but you didn't believe me, so I'm done talking about it. What matters now is this: if you keep letting Vanessa spend time with Sabrina, there's gonna come a day when you can't control her either."

At that, Vincent's expression finally shifted. He frowned slightly before replying, "You're her mother. Wouldn't it be better if you were the one with her?"

But Scarlett shook her head without a moment's hesitation. "There's no point in me being around her anymore."

Vincent felt a flare of irritation. His voice rose, sharper than he intended. "You're her mother. What do you mean, 'no point'?"

Scarlett turned her face away and let out a short, bitter laugh. "Now you remember I'm her mother. Where were you back then?"

Vincent straightened in his seat, his tone low and gravelly. "I'm sorry. I was wrong about you."

Scarlett looked back at him, meeting his eyes with something close to pleading. "Vincent, just sign the papers. Let's not drag this out anymore. Let's end things cleanly."

Vincent held her gaze and said nothing.

Scarlett continued, her voice steady. "Vincent, I don't want things to get ugly between us. We still share a daughter, after all."

What Vincent thought of her didn't matter much anymore—but Vanessa was different. She didn't want Vanessa to grow up resenting her.

Vincent kept watching her, silent for a long moment.

Then, abruptly, he stood up.

At first, Scarlett wasn't startled—she assumed he was leaving.

But instead, he slid into the booth right beside her.

The moment he sat down, Scarlett tried to stand, but before she could move, Vincent leaned in close.

She instinctively pulled back, only to feel the seat behind her. Trapped, she pressed a hand against his chest.

Vincent hovered there, his handsome, almost dangerously intense face inches from hers.

Scarlett flinched and turned her head away. "Vincent, what are you doing?"

Scarlett yanked back with all her strength, but his grip held firm.

She shot him a sharp, fiery look, but before she could speak, Vincent said quietly, "Scarlett, what if I told you I don't want a divorce anymore?"

Hearing him say her name like that sent a chill through her veins. And his words—they made her shiver.

Scarlett didn't hesitate. "If you won't agree to the divorce, then we'll go to court. I'll fight this as long as it takes."

Then, not caring if she pulled something, she wrenched her arm back with every ounce of strength she had. Vincent seemed to sense her determination—his grip loosened just enough for her to break free.

Once she was loose, Scarlett hurried toward the door. Even with her limp, she moved quickly, afraid that if she slowed down even a little, he'd catch her again.

Vincent remained on the bench. The spot beside him still held a trace of her warmth, but she was already gone.

Watching her walk away—ignoring the pain in her leg just to put distance between them—felt like a knife twisting in his chest.

Was it too late for anything he said now?

Vincent drained the last of his coffee. It was sweetened, but to him, it tasted bitterly sharp—all the way down to his heart.