Chapter 4 4.

Adrian's POV.

The house was quiet when I arrived. It always is, thanks to no kids running around.

I loosened my tie as I walked in, dropping my briefcase by the console table without glancing toward the stairs.

The familiar scent of leather and polished wood grounded me as I shut the door behind me. This room was ordered, and predictable. Nothing here demanded emotion, explanations, or apologies. I turned on the desk lamp, the warm glow spilling over neatly stacked files and my open laptop.

Work waited, it always did.

I reviewed documents, signed off approvals, responded to emails with practiced efficiency. Numbers made sense. Contracts obeyed logic. People, on the other hand, had a habit of complicating things unnecessarily.

Jane's face crossed my mind briefly, her expression in my office earlier today bugged me. It wasn't anger, nor was it hysteria. It was something colder, and controlled. I dismissed it just as quickly as the thought crossed my mind.

She had walked in without warning, at an inconvenient moment. Emotions had escalated, as they often did with her, and that was all. Tomorrow, things would settle. They always did.

My phone buzzed on the desk, and I glanced at the screen, expecting a business alert. Instead, I saw an unfamiliar number flagged with a formal header. "State Court Notification."

My fingers stilled, and for a moment, I simply stared at the screen, irritation flickering beneath my calm exterior. This was excessive. Dramatics never suited Jane. She would cool down, she always did.

I opened the message, and then, for the first time, the silence in the house felt different, it felt heavier.

A knock came on the door and I raised my head. "Who's there?"

"I've got a package for you, sir," a voice rang out from outside the door.

"Come in," I instructed.

The door opened, and a young man-one of my workers in the house, walked in with a large brown envelope. He walked over to my desk, and handed the envelope to me. "It arrived just now, sir," he said.

I raised a brow, wondering what it was about as I received the envelope from him.

Reading the address on the envelope, I discovered it was from the State Court. What was Jane up to?

I opened the envelope and my eyes widened as I pulled out its content.

Divorce papers?

I didn't wait to think about what was going on, I sprang to my feet, striding to the bedroom with full speed.

Storming into the bedroom, I called out her name but all I received was my voice echoing back to me.

"Jane!" I yelled as I searched through the bathroom and all the nooks of the room but it was void.

Just as I was bursting out of the room, I met her at the doorway. She wasn't home?

"Where are you coming from?" I asked and she ignored me and just walked pass me into the room.

"Jane, I'm talking to you!" I said but got silence again in return.

"Fine! You don't want to talk? Don't talk. But at least answer what the hell this means!" I yelled, showing her the divorce papers.

She looked up at the papers, her eyes duller than usual. "I see you've been served."

"What the hell is the meaning of this?!" I was so angry.

"It means I'm done," she responded. "I'm done with this shab we call a marriage."

Her words hit me, not from pain or guilt, but from surprise.

"So you want a divorce," I said.

A few seconds passed then she nodded, "yes."

"This has never been a real marriage after all. There's no child to bind us, no feelings to keep us together. My debt has been paid, and my service...has ended," she said, a tear rolling down her cheek, each word heavy with her emotions.

"Fine!" I nodded. "I'll give you the freedom you want," I said and the look in her eyes screamed that she was extremely disappointed in my response. But what the hell? She asked for it and she's no longer of use to me so she can be discarded.

I scanned through the papers to find her signatures already there, and I laughed curtly. "You even already signed."

"You got a pen there?" I asked.

She slowly walked to her bedside drawer and I think I saw her dwindle or probably she didn't.

She reached the drawer and pulled out a pen. She returned to me and gave me the pen with all colors drained from her face.

I took the pen from her and began signing the papers. As I looked downwards, I noticed her stagger a little. I wanted to ask her if she was alright but I discarded it anyway.

"Anything you'd like to demand?" I asked. It was common with women when they filed for divorce with their husbands.

"What I'd like to demand?" She asked.

"Money? Properties? Shares? Anything?" I gave her the options and she scoffed.

"What I'd like to demand is answers," she said, surprising me again.

"Answers?" I paused signing. "What answers?" I asked, raising a brow at her.

"Why did you cheat on me?" She asked, her voice almost a whisper.

I looked it her eyes that were reddened with tears. They should have pulled some strings at me, but they didn't. Nothing ever did. "You know the answer," I began, my voice grounded. "This marriage...is a sham," I said and her tears fell.

She scoffed, "why was I expecting a different answer?"

Tell her I did that because I wanted to get the child she couldn't give me? That was weakness.

"Here," I handed her the papers after signing. "In a few days, you'll no longer bear my name."

She scoffed again, rolling her eyes upward, trying to roll her tears back in. She took the papers from me, and nodded. "But until your name is off me completely, this should be off me too." She took off her wedding ring, raised it enough for me to see it, then dropped it on the floor, the crystal of the ring crashing as it hit the floor.

For the third time today, she surprised me again with such bold act.

"Goodbye, Mr Adrian Blackwood, it was nice doing business with you," she said.

"Yeah," I nodded, "and I with you."

With one last look at me, she walked out of the room, slamming the door so hard that it reverberated in my chest.

The door echoed long after she was gone. I stood there for several seconds, staring at the spot where she had been, my fingers still curled loosely at my side. The silence that followed wasn't dramatic. It didn't scream or accuse. It simply settled, thick and unmoving, like dust after a collapse.

I looked down, the ring lay on the floor between us, or rather, where we used to be. The crystal had chipped on impact, a thin fracture running through it. For a fleeting moment, I wondered how much it had cost. Then I dismissed the thought. Material things could always be replaced.

I bent down and picked it up, the metal cold against my palm. It felt lighter than it should have, insignificant for something that had once symbolized permanence. I placed it on the drawer without ceremony and straightened my cuffs.

This was for the best. That was the truth, or at least, the version of it I had lived by for years.

Jane had served her purpose. The debt was cleared, the scandal avoided, the company stabilized, the alliance fulfilled. There was no need to prolong a structure that no longer functioned efficiently. Emotions had no place in contracts, and marriage, especially ours, had always been one.

I still had much work to do so returning to my study was next. I made my way to the door, and upon opening it, I froze.

Jane was on the floor at the doorway, her hands empty, and the divorce papers scattered on the floor.

She had collapsed.