He started appearing in my office without reason, placing coffee beside my documents like it was normal. He’d sit in on meetings he didn’t need to attend. He’d ask questions he didn’t used to care about.
One night, I remember him setting a bowl of soup beside my laptop.
“You’re going to get sick if you keep skipping meals,” he said casually.
I looked up at him, surprised.
“Since when did you start worrying about me?” I asked, half teasing.
He just shrugged like it was nothing. “You’re my wife. It’s my responsibility.”
And weirdly… that made me smile.
For the first time, I thought maybe we were changing. Maybe this wasn’t just an arrangement anymore.
Maybe we were becoming something real.
He became gentler after that. He started remembering dates. He kissed me goodnight like it was normal. He looked at me like I mattered.
And I believed it.
I fell completely.
But now, lying in that hospital bed, everything made sense in the cruelest way possible.
It was never love.
It was control.
A performance I was too stupid to question.
I wiped my face roughly, grabbed my phone, and forced my breathing to steady.
When my lawyer picked up, my voice didn’t shake.
“Mr. Wells,” I said quietly, “prepare my divorce papers.”
There was a pause on the other line.
“Mrs. Grant… that won’t be easy,” he said carefully.
“Why not?” I asked sharply.
“Your families are bound by multiple agreements. Your father and Mr. Grant’s father would need to approve it. This could collapse the entire alliance—”
“I don’t care,” I cut in immediately. “Just prepare it.”
Another hesitation.
“Even if I draft it,” he continued, “you’ll still need your father’s approval. Without it, this won’t move forward legally—”
“I’ll handle my father,” I said coldly. “Just do your part.”
“…Understood, Mrs. Grant.”
“One more thing,” I added after a pause. “Redirect every investor and partner we can reach. Move them under my company. I don’t want Matteo left with anything.”
By the time I left the hospital, I went alone.
The ride home was quiet, but my mind wasn’t.
And when I stepped into the hallway of the house, I froze.
Voices.
Low, intimate… and unmistakably his.
Matteo.
And a woman.
My stomach turned as I followed the sound, every step heavier than the last. I didn’t even think—I just pushed the door open.
What I saw made everything inside me go still.
He didn’t even pretend to stop.
No panic. No guilt.