Chapter 2
“You want a what?” Damien laughed, the sound cold and mocking as he leaned back in his chair. “A divorce? Are you serious, Felicia?”
“Yes, I’m serious!” Felicia shouted, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her face.
The woman walked out and Damien sat on the sofa. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as his amused smirk faded into a frown. “You’ve lost your mind, haven’t you?”
“Stop mocking me!” Felicia cried, her fists clenched. “I’m done, Damien. I can’t do this anymore!”
“Can’t do what exactly?” His tone dripped with sarcasm. “Live in this big house? Enjoy the luxury my name provides? Or is it because I’m not throwing myself at your feet like some lovesick pup?”
Her tears fell harder, but her voice didn’t waver. “I’ve lived in this house, Damien, but I’ve never felt at home. I’ve been your wife, but I’ve never felt loved. You’ve treated me like an afterthought, like a—like a tool for your convenience. I deserve more than this!”
He tilted his head, studying her as though she were an interesting puzzle. “You’re serious,” he said finally, his voice low.
“Yes, I am,” she replied firmly, wiping her tears.
Damien’s jaw tightened. “And you think marching in here, demanding a divorce, will solve all your problems?”
“It’s a start,” she said, her voice gaining strength.
He scoffed, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”
“I’m tired of being miserable, Damien!” she shouted. “I thought maybe if we had a child—”
He shot to his feet, cutting her off. “Don’t you dare,” he snarled, his voice colder than she’d ever heard. “I don’t need a child from you, Felicia. I never have, and I never will.”
The words struck her like a physical blow. Her knees felt weak, and she had to grip the back of the chair for support. “You… you don’t mean that,” she whispered.
“Oh, but I do,” he said with a bitter laugh. “You thought a baby would fix this? Fix us? There was nothing to fix, Felicia, because there was nothing here to begin with. I don’t want to have a child with a wolfless wolf like you.”
Her heart shattered into a thousand pieces, but she refused to let him see her break. “Fine,” she said, her voice trembling but determined. “If that’s how you feel, then sign the divorce papers and let me go.”
He arched a brow. “Divorce papers? You came prepared, didn’t you?”
Felicia didn’t respond. She turned on her heel and marched upstairs, her legs moving on autopilot as her mind raced.
In her bedroom, she pulled open the drawer of her nightstand and retrieved the papers she had secretly prepared weeks ago.
When she returned, Damien was still standing in the living room, his arms crossed. His eyes flicked to the documents in her hands, and his lips curled into a smirk.
“How long have you been planning this, Felicia?” he asked, his voice taunting.
“That doesn’t matter,” she said, thrusting the papers toward him. “Just sign them.”
Damien took the papers, flipping through them lazily. “You’ve really thought this through,” he mused. “But you’ve forgotten one thing.”
“And what’s that?”
He looked up, his eyes piercing hers. “Once I sign this, I’m done. No more second chances. No more begging. If this is what you want, don’t come crying to me later.”
“I won’t,” she said firmly, though her voice wavered slightly.
He studied her for a moment, then shook his head. “You really are pathetic, Felicia.”
“Just sign the damn papers, Damien!” she snapped, her voice echoing through the room.
“Fine,” he said coldly. Grabbing a pen from the side table, he leaned over the papers and began signing, his strokes deliberate and almost vindictive.
When he finished, he straightened and tossed the papers at her feet. “There. You got what you wanted.”
Felicia bent down to pick them up, her hands trembling. She hugged the papers to her chest, her vision blurred by tears.
“Don’t come crying to me,” Damien repeated, his voice as cold as ice.
Felicia didn’t reply. She turned and hurried upstairs, her heart breaking with every step. Once in her room, she locked the door, pressed her back against it, and slid to the floor.
The papers were still clutched in her hands, but they felt heavier now, like the weight of all her shattered dreams.
As she stared at them through her tears, she whispered to herself, “This is for the best. It has to be.”
