Chapter 4 : This Marriage Is Over

Ella

As I stand in George's office, I reflect on the beginning of our marriage. I remember times when I used to bring in lunches for my husband due to his picky tastes.

I've never been a genius in the kitchen, but I learned to cook for him. It's a valuable skill that I am still quite happy to have discovered.

I remember dressing modestly and being kind to Mrs. Cates.

Honestly, I wanted her to like me back then. But the more I came to the office, the more I watched the woman's demeanor change.

She started out smiling at me, and as time went on, she became as distant and uncaring as the man in my life.

I scoff to myself as I cross my arms in front of my chest.

This woman is no longer someone I'm afraid of. I'm not a maid. I'm not just a housewife. I'm Ella Wickham.

No. I'm Ella Reina. That's who I was before this marriage. And that's who I'll be once more.

"Wait a minute, Ma'am, there's no appointment in the books for you; you can't be here without one."

I turn sideways to stare down at Miss Cates. I lower my sunglasses, assessing the woman. Instead of answering her, I decide I don't care about her opinion or attitude.

I roll my eyes and leave the office, determined to find my husband without help. I don't need another woman to tell me where and when I should be.

I find George alone in another meeting room. I don't think; I open the door and walk in.

I watch George register my entrance. His eyes grow wide with astonishment. I know he wasn't expecting me to walk into the firm, but I bet the outfit throws him off ten times more. I haven't dressed up in so long that I have even forgotten what I used to look like.

"Ella?" His voice sounds strained, but he quickly coughs to attempt to conceal it. He seems somewhat panicked. Good. This is precisely what I want. Be stunned, George. Be confused.

I pull the divorce paperwork out of my bag, slapping it down on the desk in front of him. I cross my arms over my chest, waiting for him to figure out what will happen.

He slowly looks over the paperwork. "What is this?"

"Divorce paperwork."

That alone changes everything.

George stands quickly, but no words are said. He starts rifling through the contract, skimming every paragraph to understand why I could have possibly produced our divorce papers.

"You seemed to think our divorce was nothing more than empty words. Well, here you go."

"What does this mean?" he huffs, ripping his gaze from the papers to my face. "What are you DOING, Ella?"

"This," I gesture to the contract, "means you and I will no longer have any contact. As for what I'm doing? I'm doing what's right."

"What's right? Since when do you give a damn about what's right?"

I scoff. "I have always wanted that."

"Are you kidding me? Where else could you go without me?" He casually flips open the document, emitting a cold snort. "This is absurd."

I don't miss a step. "What's absurd is the bullshit I've constantly put up with in this marriage—the loveless, pathetic excuse for a union. You have never seen the pain I've endured over these past three years. You waltz around, using anyone in your wake to make them feel inferior to you."

He's shaking his head constantly, and for a second, I wonder if tears have invaded his vision. His performance is staggering, even comedic. But that's just it.

"This is how it must be," I insist. "This is not a tantrum, a fight, or even a competition. Today, I end this marriage. We will go our separate ways as two people who couldn't make each other happy."

He doesn't love me, even though I know my love for him knows no bounds. The only truth I'll be able to live with is giving him the chance to spread his wings. Because what is love if not a sacrifice?

"Stop being crazy."

That triggers something in me to finally, FINALLY, give way to the whole, unmitigated truth.

"Which wife was mistaken by Miss Cates as a servant and kicked out of the firm? Which CEO's wife doesn't even have money for a taxi? And, above all, which CEO's wife is being labeled as a criminal online by Charlotte's loyal followers?" I'm all but screaming at this man, unleashing the hidden emotions and words I've held onto for years.

I continue without waiting for a response. "You NEVER acknowledged me publicly. You never talk about me, take me out, treat me with any amount of love? What the fuck kind of CEO's wife am I?"

"Is that truly how you see me?" he asks in an expressionless voice. "That I do not love you?"

"It's the truth, is it not?"

He doesn't answer.

"Because you hold favoritism against your wife. Charlotte gets to have you be her mystery man. She has me going up for a crime I never committed. Who's going to believe me, George? Who will believe me when Charlotte has the entire world listening to her side?"

Again, he stares at me. Our marriage has been one long performance. I don't want that for myself any longer. The love I held for him has flickered out like a dying candle. It's inevitable. I hate my life and who I've become.

"It doesn't matter anymore. Please sign the paperwork. This marriage is over. I hope you find the love you have searched for."

I turn on my heel, and without giving George a moment to vent, I leave the conference room with gusto.

After I'm far enough away from the office, I lean over and breathe, relief flooding my entire system. Years of suppressing these thoughts and fears have finally been released, and I am finally proud of myself. Three years of being someone I'm not.

It's over, and I'm free.

***

George

I feel the blood drain from my face as Ella leaves, watching her retreating figure until the door to the meeting room finally clicks closed.

She's had papers written up, saying she wants nothing from the divorce, a complete clean break.

A clean break? She wants NOTHING from the divorce? I can't help but sneer without a second thought. Who was that woman? Not my wife, that's for damn sure. She's never had that level of confidence in all the time I've known her.

"A prank, it has to be," I think as I reflect on the contract in my hands. I rub my beard with my hand, feeling something shifting in me and wanting to get it the hell off.

Would she really be so bold as to go through with her claims? Go through with the divorce after today? For all I know, she'll return to the apartment and beg for me back after a few days.

That's more like the Ella I know. Not this dressed-up fake that has just left my office.

Satisfied that I will be the one with the upper hand, I shred the divorce papers in my hands, content that in just a few days, Ella will be back. It's nothing to worry about.

As I'm doing this, I look up to see Miss Cates entering the room, though she looks visibly shaken from Ella's barging in.

She tries to turn and leave, but I clear my throat. "What can I do for you, Miss Cates?" I keep my voice level flat, stern, and severe, the way I've always kept myself within the firm.

She slowly looks back at me, and I see something else in her eyes. Is that... concern? Hesitation? What is this woman so disturbed by? If it's my wife, she'll surely calm down in just a few minutes. But otherwise, she's not saying anything.

"Miss Cates?" I say lower in my register. Is she just going to look dumbstruck for the rest of the day?

The woman lets her eyes dart out the door and then back to me. She takes a quick, shuddering breath before saying, "Charlotte Deluca is here to see you. Just arrived."

That's all she says, scurrying back out the door in a flash.

Women. They're truly all the same.

Charlotte enters the room slowly, smirking as she lays her eyes on me. Her blonde bob of hair perfectly shapes her face as always, and her signature red lipstick is slathered on. She looks prim and proper, as she has for all the years I've known her.

This woman was my first love.

"Mr. Wickham." Charlotte's higher register is a stark change from Ella's, who has a more brassy, sharp vibrato. Maybe it's because Charlotte is a strong, powerful, and famous singer.

"Miss Deluca." I don't know what she's doing here.

"You're looking mighty handsome today, George, I must say."

I stay silent. What the hell was that compliment for?

"You know, I've been stuck in that sanatorium for days now. I could really use a nice night out with this handsome, wonderful lawyer I know."

Oh, so that's what this is.

For some reason, as Charlotte talks, I keep traveling back to Ella's turn and exit from this room.

"I'm busy tonight, Charlotte. I have a life outside of these walls and you."

Hurt blazes on her face, but for some reason, it doesn't hit me like it usually would. That's when I remember something from a few days ago.

"Charlotte," I make my way around the table to close the gap between us. "Why was my wife's contact info deleted from my phone?"

She looks up at me and flutters her eyelashes. "Hm?"

I narrow my eyes. "Ella's contact was gone from my phone. She called me, and I missed her calls because her number wasn't coming up under her name." I cross my arms, my suit jacket ruffling with my dress shirt. "What happened in that accident you were in? You were insistent on being hurt but never told me exactly what happened."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, George," she says sweetly. "I was in the accident with your wife because she hit something. That's what I told you, the hospital, the cops, and everyone else. She's manipulative, you know that."

"My wife has never been such a thing."

"You don't know her the way I do, George. She makes everyone feel sorry for her, and then, just when you think you get her and trust her, she turns around and hurts you, stabs you in the back. I trusted her to drive us, and then she crashed. I don't know what happened after that."

I narrow my dark eyes and feel the tension building in my shoulders, something I find often happens when I stop focusing on my posture for long enough.

I roll my neck back and forth to help relieve the pain, but I still find what Charlotte said to be a tad confusing.

I promised Charlotte's father many years ago that I'd always take care of her. She saved my life after a car accident put me in the hospital. I was on life support, nearly in a vegetative state. It was several years ago, but she nursed me back to health, and I've always been grateful for that. But her standing here, insisting something happened with Ella in that car, I can't help but feel flashbacks of the terrible accident.

I close my eyes and clear my throat, pushing the painful and powerful memories away. "I won't neglect you because of the promises I made." I watch her smile form, but I hold up a finger. "But Ella is my wife. You should know better than to play games with her."

Charlotte's features stiffen as she's obviously annoyed with my answer. "She comes from a humble background, from absolutely nothing. She's JUST a housewife, George. You know she's unfit to be your wife. You've always known it."

"You watch what you say," I demand, growling. "My marriage is none of your concern, and that's final."

She lets her jaw open slightly but closes it with ease. Having no time for this bullshit, I make my way to the door, calling for Miss Cates.

"Please escort Miss Deluca out of the firm. I have a meeting to prepare for in twenty minutes."

Charlotte glares now, but Miss Cates does as she is told, and I nod to the two women as they exit.

The afternoon meeting proceeds as usual, but I think everyone can tell something's off or wrong. My mood has continued to sour as time has passed, all because of the goddamn divorce papers. I'm struggling to focus and have asked one of my employees to repeat his sentence twice.

This isn't me. This isn't George Wickham. I know what I want—but now, thinking about Ella asking to end our marriage? I never believed she'd dare ask for a divorce.

It's the first time in our three years that she's openly defied me, and that alone has caused severe heart palpitations. I put them on the back burner as I continue getting lost in our meeting, unsure what else to do.

"She'll come back in a few days. I'll make it up to her. Money, that's what she was going on about, right? I'll compensate her with money and take her to one of the expensive boutiques to pick out a few nice dresses and shoes." The thoughts swim through my head like a school of fish as they all struggle to be heard in my head.

"Ella will beg for me to take her back. She'll beg to come home with me. I know it."

As the meeting concludes, I notice a thunderstorm brewing outside the office and make my way out to Miss Cates.

"Please contact Ella Reina, the woman who was in here earlier," I start, trying to act nonchalant with my secretary. "I'm going to find her some property and send a check." A check that's fifty million dollars should be enough. She'll be back in no time.

"Mr. Wickham," the woman starts, wringing her hands repeatedly. "She left with another man today."

Blood begins to boil in me, and heat rises to my cheeks and burns my skin. My throat goes dry instantly as I clench my hands, and the tension returns to my shoulders. "What the hell did you say?"

Control. I'm slipping and losing control. Keep your shit together, George, you must keep your composure.

It's been a long time since I lost control. Because George Wickham NEVER loses.