DIVORCE

Olivia Lanchester stared at the crisp, cream-colored envelope in her hands.

Her name was printed in bold, elegant letters. Her fingers trembled slightly as she slid the paper out. The words blurred for a moment before snapping into focus.

Petition for Dissolution of Marriage.

Divorce papers.

"Ethan," she said her voice barely above a whisper. "Are you going to do this?"

Ethan Whitmore sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as if she were exhausting him. "Olivia, let's not make this harder than it has to be."

Her chest ached. "But why? What did I do wrong?"

He scoffed, leaning back against the couch, his expensive watch catching the light. "You didn't do anything wrong, Olivia. You're just… not what I need anymore."

Her throat tightened. "I thought we were happy—"

"You thought we were happy," Ethan corrected, almost immediately. "But let's be honest, Olivia. You and I? We were never equals."

She blinked at him, stunned. "Equals?"

Ethan let out a low chuckle. "You're sweet, kind. I need someone who matches my ambition, and who belongs in the circles I'm in now. And, Olivia… that's just not you."

He handed her a pen. I've found someone 'better, Olivia.'

Olivia let out a breathless laugh, though there was no humor in it. Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She had loved him. Helped him in the shadows. And pushed him to be where he was now. And now, he was throwing her away like she was nothing.

Was that really how he saw her? Just because she wasn't draped in designer labels or rubbing shoulders with the elite? Which she has always disliked. Because she had spent the past few years running her small boutique, working late nights to make ends meet for him and his family?

To Ethan, she was just Olivia—his quiet, unremarkable wife who never asked for much.

The tension in the room was suffocating, but before Olivia could gather herself to respond, the sharp click of heels echoed against the marble floor.

A slow, deliberate entrance.

Then came the voice—smooth, confident, dripping with condescension.

"Oh, Olivia, don't make this harder than it has to be."

Olivia turned, her jaw tightening as she took in the woman, who was now standing beside Ethan. Tall, poised, and dressed in a designer suit that screamed wealth, Victoria Davenport exuded the effortless arrogance of someone who had never struggled a day in her life.

The heiress. Ethan's better match.

Victoria slid a manicured hand onto Ethan's arm, her red-painted lips curving into a smirk. "Ethan needs someone who can match his ambition, someone who understands the world he's stepping into. Not… someone still playing shopkeeper."

Olivia's stomach twisted, but she forced herself to stay calm. "I supported Ethan before any of you knew his name," she said, voice steady. "When he had nothing when he was struggling—I was the one who stood by him."

Victoria let out a soft, pitying laugh. "And that was very sweet of you," she said, tilting her head. "But let's be honest, Olivia—Ethan has outgrown you. You gave him a foundation, but now he needs someone who can help him rise. Someone who belongs in this world. And that's me."

Ethan didn't object. He didn't even flinch. He just stood there, letting Victoria speak for him as if Olivia's place in his life had never mattered.

Olivia's nails dug into her palms. This wasn't just a betrayal. It was an erasure.

Victoria stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper only Olivia could hear.

"Sign the papers and walk away with dignity. Because trust me, sweetheart, this is a game you'll never win."

Olivia met Victoria's gaze, and before she could stop herself, her palm struck Victoria's cheek with a sharp crack.

Victoria let out a startled scream, her hand flying up to her face. Fury flashed in her eyes as she swung back, but Olivia was faster—she caught Victoria's wrist mid-air, gripping it tightly.

"Don't," Olivia warned, her voice dangerously calm.

Victoria yanked her hand away, seething. Ethan stepped forward, ready to intervene, but Olivia had already made her decision.

Without another word, she reached for the pen, her fingers steady as she signed the divorce papers. Each stroke of ink sealed the end of their marriage, but it no longer felt like a loss.

Olivia took out her phone and dialed a number. Just as the call dropped. Victoria's mocking voice was heard. 'You just got divorced and you're already making calls?

Oh honey, when does she get to leave her sight disgusts me.'

Ethan smirked, slipping an arm around Victoria's waist. "She will soon. It's not like she has anywhere else to go."

Ethan reached into his wallet and pulled out a sleek black credit card, placing it on the table with a smirk.

"Take this, Olivia. There's a million on it. Consider it a parting gift—something to help you… start over."

Olivia stared at the card for a moment before letting out a soft, humorless chuckle. Slowly, she reached for it—only to flick it back across the table like it was worthless.

"Keep it," she said coolly, meeting his gaze. "You'll need it more than I will."

Ethan's smirk faltered. "Olivia, don't be stubborn—"

"Stubborn?" Olivia tilted her head, eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "You think this is about pride? No, Ethan. It's about knowing my worth. And trust me, a million is far too cheap for that."

Victoria let out an exaggerated sigh and linked her arm to Ethan's. "Honestly, darling, let's go. We have better things to do than wait for her to come to her senses."

Ethan shot Olivia one last look as if expecting her to change her mind, but she merely smiled—a quiet, knowing smile.

With a shrug, he turned, allowing Victoria to pull him toward the door. "Take care, Olivia. I hope life treats you well."

Victoria smirked over her shoulder. "What little of it you have left."

They walked out, laughing, believing they had left her behind—believing she had nowhere else to go.

Only minutes later, the deep hum of engines filled the air as a convoy of sleek, black luxury cars rolled up to the entrance.

But Ethan and Victoria were already gone.

They didn't get to see what they had just walked away from.

They didn't get to see Olivia Lanchester for who she truly was. As silence settled in the room, Olivia exhaled slowly, shaking off the weight of the moment. She turned toward the window, just as the distant hum of engines grew louder.

A knock echoed through the doorway.

"Miss Lanchester," he said with a polite nod. "Your father sent me to pick you up."

Olivia arched her brow, a small smirk playing at her lips. Of course, he did. Her father always knew when to step in—when to remind the world exactly who she was.

She grabbed her purse and strode toward the door, leaving behind the remnants of a marriage that had never deserved her in the first place.