Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Divorce Paper

Chapter 2

Jude's POV

It's already past nine when I pull the car into the driveway. Mireille clings to my coat as she clambers out, dragging her feet and landing on the ground beside me.

We had a pleasant lunch today. I had originally agreed to eat with Moira, but Bella saw the message on my phone and told me she'd been craving the steak at that restaurant for ages. Bella didn't ask me to cancel on Moira, but I figured Moira would always wait for me anyway.

It wasn't until I sat down at the restaurant that I remembered to text Moira and cancel. She didn't reply.

A faint unease stirred in me, but it was quickly smothered by Mireille and Bella's bright smiles.

By the end of lunch, Mireille didn't even want to go home-but Bella talked her into it. "Sweetheart, your mom came all this way. She just wants to spend a little time with you and your dad. If you don't go home, she'll be hurt."

Bella is always that kind. Even though she knows I'm her fated mate, she's never demanded that I break my bond with Moira. I can't keep her waiting forever.

Once we're back in New Jersey, I'll go through with the divorce.

I told Mireille the same thing-that if we didn't go back tonight, Moira would insist on joining our river trip tomorrow. Simple as that. Mireille finally gave in, her stubbornness temporarily reined in.

But she was still worried. She tugged at my sleeve, her green eyes wide. "Dad, what if Mom wants to come with us tomorrow?"

"She won't." I answer, my tone calm and firm. Over the years, Moira has learned where the lines are. She tries all sorts of ways to get more of my time, but as long as I make my position clear, she always backs down. Mireille has seen it herself-her mother never questions my word.

Mireille relaxes and her mood lifts. She skips through the front door, calling, "Mrs. Leah, I'm ready for my bath!"

Loyal as ever, Mrs. Leah appears at once, her silver hair twisted neatly into a bun. "Of course, little Mireille. Let's get you washed up." Then she turns to me, hesitates, and holds out an envelope. "Alpha, Luna asked me to give this to you."

I take it carelessly. "Where is she?"

Something flickers in Mrs. Leah's eyes. "Luna packed her things and went back to New Jersey at noon. You didn't know?"

I stop halfway up the stairs, fingers tightening around the railing. "She left?"

"Yes, Alpha."

I didn't give Moira a chance to explain why she came all of a sudden-and to be honest, I don't care. Her leaving isn't any real loss to me. I'm used to her quiet obedience, her endless patience, her dutiful love. The idea that she might actually be upset? It's almost laughable.

Mireille, however, looks surprised. I catch the brief, sharp flash of disappointment in her. She had hoped Moira would at least help her finish the shell necklace for Bella's birthday. Now she'll have to do it alone.

Mrs. Leah, the ever-sentimental Omega, ventures, "Luna Moira didn't look well, sir. She seemed. upset."

Upset? Moira, the ever-forgiving Luna? That's a new one. She knew the nature of this marriage from the start-it was a scheme carefully planned by her pack. If she hadn't gotten pregnant, I never would have chosen her as my mate. It was nothing more than a way to solidify my position as Alpha of the northern territory.

For years, the pack has whispered that Bella's pure bloodline makes her the obvious choice for Luna, and that Moira is just keeping the seat warm.

I let out a contemptuous little laugh and continue up the stairs, unconcerned.

Back in my room, I toss Moira's envelope onto the bed without bothering to open it. My phone buzzes-Bella's name lights up the screen. I answer without hesitation, leave the letter behind, and head out into the night. The envelope slides from the bed to the floor and is completely forgotten.

I don't come back that night. The next morning, I barely register that Moira isn't at breakfast. If she stops calling, it just means she's finally learned her place. I have more important things to deal with than her feelings.

Moira's POV

The moment my feet touch New Jersey soil, I head straight home-though now it feels like nothing but an empty shell. I climb the stairs, the air thick with the familiar scent of cedar and linen. Six years of marriage, and the house is still crammed with memories, belongings, and the ghosts of the life I tried so hard to hold together.

I've only brought the essentials: a few changes of clothes, two sets of toiletries, a stack of professional books. Jude always put our spending money on two separate cards-one for me, one for Mireille. I've never touched Mireille's card, not once. Mine was almost always used to buy things for them: clothes for Mireille, ties for Jude, little gifts to try to patch up the widening cracks between us. I rarely bought anything for myself. My entire world revolved around them.

Lately, with Mireille spending most of her time with Jude in the Netherlands, my account balance has quietly grown. There are a little over three million dollars left-nothing to Jude, but to me it's a lifeline. I transfer the money out, leave both cards on the desk in the office, and walk out with my suitcase without looking back.

I own a small apartment near the office-less than a hundred square meters, bought on a whim back then just to help a friend hit a sales quota. I've never lived there before. Now it's my only refuge.

The place is spotless. I unpack my luggage, wipe down the kitchen counters, and collapse onto the bed before ten, exhaustion seeping into my bones.

At one in the morning, the alarm shrieks, yanking me out of sleep. I lie there, momentarily disoriented, until I remember: seven a.m. in the Netherlands. Breakfast time for Jude and Mireille. I set this alarm months ago so I could keep in touch with my daughter overseas. At first, Mireille would cling to me through the phone, sobbing with homesickness. But as time went on, her voice grew distant, impatient, eager to hang up.

Now, the alarm is pointless. I stare at the blinking numbers, then delete it. Pain stabs through my chest, but I force myself to turn off the phone and close my eyes.

After marrying Jude, I took a job at Winters Corporation. It was never my dream, but it was the right choice for his career. Now, with divorce looming, I have no reason to stay.

The next morning after coming back, I submit my resignation. My hand is steady as stone, and inside I feel an eerie calm.

As I walk out of the office, it feels like the last traces of my old life fade away with each step. The marriage, the pack, the endless chase for a love that would never be returned. I'm done with all of it.

Mireille's POV

The next morning, sunlight spills into the kitchen as Dad and I finish breakfast. I keep glancing at my phone, waiting for it to ring at seven o'clock sharp like it always does. Mom never misses a call-even when she's sick or traveling, she always finds a way to check on me.

Seven fifteen comes and goes and the phone still doesn't ring. I feel oddly relieved. No more awkward small talk, no more pretending to care about how her day went, no more guilt for rushing to hang up. Bella never forces me to talk when I don't want to. She just understands me, the way a real mom is supposed to.

I grab my backpack and slip out before Mrs. Leah can stop me. But as my hand closes around the doorknob, a strange anxiety washes over me. Mom has never missed a call before. Never.

"Mireille! It's still early! You've got plenty of time before school!" Mrs. Leah calls after me. I can hear the worry in her voice, and it starts gnawing at me too.

But I'm already halfway to the car. Freedom, I tell myself. This is freedom. No more listening to her morning nagging, no more being forced to say "I love you," no more trying to live up to her expectations.

Yet when Dad starts the engine, I can't help checking my phone again. Still no missed calls. No texts. Nothing. The silence is unsettling, like you're expecting the next step on the staircase and your foot finds only air.

"Dad?" I try to sound casual. "Did Mom ever say. she was going to stop calling?"

"Don't worry," he says. But there's something in his voice that makes something flutter uneasily deep inside me. I push the feeling down and think about Bella and our river trip instead. Bella would never skip her daily calls. Bella would never make me feel guilty or uneasy. Bella is perfect.

And yet, as we drive away, I can't shake the hollow feeling in my chest. I'm finally free of Mom's attention-so why does it feel like I've lost something important?