"Happy divorce to me. New life, new me."
That was the caption I posted on Instagram with a champagne emoji and my brightest smile. I thought it was just another post—another way of telling the world I was finally free.
What I didn't expect was for him to notice.
Three years of silence. Three years of pretending I didn't exist. And suddenly, my phone buzzed with his name.
When did you get a divorce? Are you married to someone I'm not aware of?
Another message followed, faster this time, angrier.
Is this because my uncle is out of prison? Come back here right now and I'll forget everything.
I stared at the screen. My heart didn't race. My hands didn't shake. Not this time.
Instead, I smiled. Pressed block.
And whispered to myself, I'm done. Just a week ago, I found out...
-------
"I'm sorry, Ms. Anderson. It's too late for a surgery now."
The words struck harder than the lab report in my hands. Fibroid. Too late.
It took me forever to breathe again before I finally dialed my husband—well, his secretary, Jason.
The phone rang, and rang, until Jason's lazy voice answered.
"Yes, Mrs. Gillian?"
My nails dug into my palm. "Where is Jeremy? I need to talk to him."
"Mr. Gillian is unavailable."
"Then pass him the phone—"
Before Jason could finish, a soft feminine laugh spilled through the receiver.
"Jer, what's with all the secrecy? What's the big surprise?"
Then his voice. Tender. Warm. A voice I'd never heard directed at me.
"Look up."
The line went dead just as the sky erupted.
Thunderous explosions cracked open the night. Fireworks painted the darkness with rivers of color. Outside the hospital window, a crowd cheered.
"Did you hear? Skylight's CEO, Jeremy Gillian, dropped over thirty million on this firework show—for his girlfriend's birthday!"
"Adelaide Bosten? The tech genius? She's smart, stunning, from an elite family… every man's dream."
"No wonder he adores her."
I stared at the sky until my fingers went numb. The lab report slipped, drifting to the floor like an afterthought.
I turned away. Silent. Finished.
----
Jeremy came home just before dawn.
I was sitting alone in the study, lights off, drowning in shadows. He flicked the switch, frowning when he saw me.
"Why aren't you asleep?"
His jacket hung over his arm, his shirt collar open. His eyes—cold, sharp, merciless—met mine. For years I'd told myself he was just distant. But tonight, I understood.
The man I shared a bed with was ice.
But in another woman's arms, he burned like fire.
"I couldn't sleep," I said softly. "I went to the hospital today."
He tossed his jacket on the couch, loosened his tie, and asked casually, "What did the doctor say?"
My chest tightened. I'd begged him for weeks to come with me, but he always had something more important: billion-dollar contracts, endless meetings, her birthday. Yesterday he had promised again—only to rush off to set off fireworks for Adelaide.
And me? I wasn't even an afterthought.
"Nothing serious," I lied, lowering my gaze. "I'll be fine. What about you? What brings you home tonight?"
For a moment, he hesitated. Then his footsteps closed the distance. His arms wrapped around me, pulling me against him.
His breath grazed my cheek, low and husky.
"It's your ovulation window. You agreed, remember? Once a month. Until you give my family an heir."
The scent of perfume clung to him. Sweet. Overpowering. Not mine.
It shattered the last shard of my dignity—like a bullet through glass.
Jeremy was right. In three years of marriage, he had never once wanted me.
The only reason he ever touched me was because of his father, Arnold Gillian—the man obsessed with heirs, legacy, and "continuing the bloodline."
But tonight, something inside me snapped.
"Aren't you worried your girlfriend will get jealous?" I asked. My voice was low, sharp. My eyes glimmered in the dim light, like a cornered animal ready to strike.
Jeremy froze. For the first time, he seemed to notice the change in me—the coldness in my gaze.
Then he laughed. A low, mocking sound that sliced through the silence.
"Why would I worry? You and I both know this is just a contract marriage." He stepped closer, his smile merciless. "You're the one hiding in the shadows. You chose to be the side character… so why are you suddenly acting like the main one?"