Chapter 4

I went to the safe in Ethan' s study.

The prenuptial agreement was there, in its heavy vellum envelope.

I took it out, my hands surprisingly steady.

I thought about the baby, my tiny secret.

For a moment, I faltered. Could I do this alone?

But then I thought of Chloe' s triumphant smirk, Ethan' s easy betrayal.

This was no environment to bring a child into.

I would protect my baby from this toxicity, even if it meant raising it alone.

For now, the pregnancy would remain my secret. My leverage, perhaps, or just something I needed to hold close, untainted by their drama.

My future would be independent of Ethan Davenport.

I sat at the large mahogany desk, the same desk where Ethan probably signed his part of the agreement without a second thought.

I read through the divorce settlement clause again. Fair division of assets accumulated during the marriage.

It wasn't about the money. It was about the principle. The clean break he himself had engineered.

I picked up a pen, my signature neat and precise below his.

A symbolic act of finality.

The dream of us, of what we could have been, was over.

The brief warmth, the hope, all extinguished.

There was a bittersweetness to it, a sad acceptance of reality.

I waited for Ethan to come home.

He was late, as usual these days.

When he finally walked in, he looked surprised to see me sitting in his study.

He tried for a superficial normalcy, a smile that didn' t reach his eyes.

"Sarah, hi. Didn't expect you to be up."

He moved to kiss my cheek, a habit he' d picked up during our "good" period.

I turned my head away.

"Don't," I said, my voice flat.

The word hung in the air between us.

His smile faltered. "What's wrong?"

"I saw the video, Ethan."

He had the grace to look momentarily flustered.

"Video? What video?"

But his eyes gave him away.

I didn' t bother to play games.

I pushed the signed prenuptial agreement across the desk towards him.

"I want a divorce."

He stared at the document, then at me, his expression shifting from surprise to defensiveness.

"Sarah, it' s not what you think. Chloe was upset, it was a moment of... comfort."

A flimsy excuse. Predictable.

"Comfort?" I repeated, my voice laced with a disgust I didn' t try to hide. "Is that what you call kissing your ex-girlfriend while you' re married to me?"

I tapped the signed paper. "It doesn' t matter what you call it. I' ve signed. I want out."

He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture he made when he was agitated.

"Look, things with Chloe are complicated. She' s been through a lot..."

"I don't care about Chloe's complications," I cut him off, my patience gone. "I care about my life. And I don' t want you in it anymore."

He looked at the signed document again, a flicker of something – regret? annoyance? – in his eyes.

He sighed, a long, theatrical sound.

"Alright, Sarah. If this is what you want."

Reluctant agreement.

Then, almost immediately, his phone buzzed. He glanced at it.

"It' s Chloe," he said, his attention already shifting. "She needs me. She' s feeling vulnerable after the gala."

He stood up, preparing to leave.

His continued prioritization of her, even now, was a final, brutal confirmation.

"Our lawyers can handle the details," I said, my voice cold, precise. "I want this done quickly and cleanly, just like you planned."

He flinched at that, a flash of anger in his eyes.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be, Sarah."

He turned and walked out of the study, out of the house, presumably to Chloe.

I listened to his footsteps receding, the front door closing with a soft click.

He didn' t hesitate. He didn' t look back.

The tears I' d been holding back finally came, a silent, wrenching sob in the empty room.

It confirmed everything. His indifference was absolute.