The pen hovered over the paper, trembling ever so slightly in her grasp.
Lena Hart stared at the divorce papers laid out like a business contract on the marble table. The law firm's meeting room was immaculate—polished floors, floor-to-ceiling windows, art on cold grey walls. Impersonal. Lifeless.
Much like her marriage.
Across from her, Dominic Black—cold, poised, unreadable—sat like a king dismissing a servant. Not a flicker of emotion passed through his sharp features. His navy suit was tailored to perfection, his jaw clean-shaven, his watch glinting under the recessed lights. To the world, he was a brilliant, ruthless billionaire. To her, he was a stranger she used to sleep beside.
"This won't take long," he said, checking his Rolex. "I have a board meeting in twenty minutes."
So that's what it had come to. One year of being Mrs. Dominic Black, reduced to a signed document and a tight schedule.
Lena's fingers curled around the pen, her grip tightening. Her throat felt dry, the words she'd rehearsed all morning crumbling like ash. Her eyes dropped to the paper. Her name looked foreign beside his—Lena Hart-Black. A name she hadn't earned with love, or affection, or warmth. Just legality.
"I didn't think…" she began softly, her voice barely audible. "I didn't think it would feel this cold."
Dominic finally looked up from his phone, his icy blue eyes locking onto hers. There was no softness in his gaze. No curiosity. Just a quiet calculation.
"You knew the terms," he said, each word clipped and precise. "One year. No attachments. No expectations. No surprises. No drama."
Lena flinched. She had known. She had agreed. Her father's failing company had left them in ruin. Dominic's offer had been her only way out. One year as his wife in public, a silent shadow in private. A pawn in a game he never fully explained.
But she never expected to fall for him. Not in the beginning, and not after all his coldness. Yet somehow, she had.
And now…
She pressed a hand to her lower belly, invisible hope swelling inside her like a secret she wasn't ready to protect alone.
"I have something to tell you," she said, forcing her voice to stay steady. "Something important."
Dominic's gaze didn't waver. "If this is about money, the settlement is more than fair."
"It's not about the settlement."
"Then don't make this messy," he cut in, sharply. "Sign the papers and walk away. We'll both get what we wanted."
Lena's jaw tightened. She had rehearsed this moment. She had told herself she would fight for her baby, that she wouldn't let Dominic walk away without knowing the truth. But here, under his gaze—so cold, so disinterested—her courage wavered.
How could someone be this heartless?
She blinked hard. Her hand trembled as she signed her name. A full stop. An ending.
He reached for the papers without hesitation, barely glancing at her signature.
His phone buzzed. He checked the screen and stood. "My lawyer will finalise the rest."
"That's it?" Lena whispered. "After everything… nothing?"
Dominic paused, but didn't face her. "This was never supposed to be anything."
Not love. Not a future. Not a family.
Lena's breath caught. Her fingers clenched at her sides.
Then she said it, quietly, desperately: "I'm pregnant."
For the first time, he stilled.
The silence stretched.
Her heartbeat roared in her ears.
Dominic's back remained turned. "Is that your way of holding onto the deal?"
She recoiled like she'd been slapped. "What?"
"You don't need to pretend, Lena. You got what you wanted—your father's debt is cleared, your family's reputation intact. There's no need to invent a child now."
"I'm not lying," she said, breathless.
He finally turned to face her—but his eyes, those piercing eyes, were like steel. "Then congratulations."
And with that, he walked out.
The door closed behind him with a soft click that echoed louder than any slam.
Lena stood frozen in the empty room, hand still resting on her stomach. A sob rose in her throat but she didn't let it out. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of her pain.
He didn't believe her. He didn't care.
But he would. One day.
One day, their child looked at him with the same cold blue eyes.