The Divorce That Brought Us Back novel Chapter 186

Back when Nora was still in college, she mostly lived in the dorms or traveled abroad. Even after they married, she rarely came home every day.

On the nights she wasn't around, Maloney never bothered going back to their empty house.

He practically lived at the office.

The firm was close to her campus, making it easy for him to pop over and take her out to lunch.

It wasn't until her senior year, when she started coming home more frequently, that he slowly shifted away from his relentless workaholic lifestyle.

This hidden bedroom hadn't been slept in for over half a year.

The cleaning staff kept it spotless, so it wasn't dirty.

But it lacked any warmth, feeling sterile and entirely devoid of life.

Maloney pulled two silk ties from the closet and swiftly bound her wrists and ankles. Setting her gently on the mattress, he warned in a gravelly tone, "You're not leaving this room until you give me a straight answer. Understood?"

She didn't say a word. She just pulled her bound knees to her chest, looking up at him with massive, pitiful puppy-dog eyes.

The heat he had barely managed to suppress flared up dangerously again.

He spun on his heel and fled the room like he was running for his life.

Safe in his office, he immediately called Mr. Hudson.

"Go to that new cafe across the street, Cloud Velvet Creamery. I need a cold-brew milk tea, seventy percent sugar. Then swing by the bakery downstairs and grab a box of macarons."

"...Right away, Boss," Mr. Hudson replied, thoroughly confused.

Maloney hung up.

He slumped into his desk chair, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He was starting to figure out the problem.

She simply wasn't afraid of him anymore.

In the past, if they hit a bump in the road and she tried to act stubborn or play the ostrich, all he had to do was corner her, firmly explain the logic of the situation, and she would eventually yield.

Not anymore.

Now, if he tried to physically intimidate her, she stomped on his crotch.

If he tried to have a serious conversation, she giggled, played dumb, or literally kissed him mid-sentence to shut him up when she didn't like what he was saying.

If he tried more extreme methods, like lightly choking her to establish dominance, she cheerfully craned her neck to give him better access.

Even stripping her down, tying her up, and locking her in a dark room didn't faze her.

She just faked a pathetic, wronged expression,

and then had the audacity to ask if solitary confinement came with snacks, casually mentioning she craved a drink from the new cafe across the street.

She was literally placing room service orders.

She knew he would never actually hurt her.

She was treating his genuine frustration like a kinky game.

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