Chapter 19: The Public Divorce Announcement

The silence between them turns into a media storm that neither of them can control.

**

The words hit harder than she expected. Not whispered in private. Not signed behind closed doors. It was out. Loud, final, and irreversible: Elise Delcourt and Victor Delcourt are officially divorced.

**

Elise stared at the headline for what felt like hours. It was everywhere—on the glossy covers of magazines she used to walk past indifferently, on the lips of news anchors with plastic smiles, and flooding her phone with alerts, as if her world wasn't already upside down.

She wasn't surprised. Not really. She knew Victor would make the announcement. He had promised transparency. "We owe it to the public," he had said, voice cold but oddly respectful. As if he had finally learned the art of boundaries—but too late.

Still, nothing had prepared her for this tidal wave.

"Billionaire Victor Delcourt Officially Divorced: The End of a Golden Era."

"Elise Delcourt Steps Away From the Spotlight—Who Is She Without Him?"

Her throat tightened as she scrolled. The comments were worse.

"He'll replace her in weeks."

"She wasn't even that present at the last gala, anyway."

"Bet she left him for someone poorer but better in bed."

The words didn't matter, and yet they carved their way into her skin. They shouldn't have hurt. She wanted this. Freedom. A new beginning. A chance to reclaim herself.

But now that it was public, official, and stamped into the world's memory like a scar, it did hurt.

The silence of her apartment echoed louder than usual.

She stood, walked toward the window, and pushed it open. The noise of the city—a car horn, a dog barking, a couple arguing below—washed over her like a balm. Real life. Unfiltered, raw, and indifferent.

A part of her longed for anonymity.

Suddenly, her phone rang. Camille.

"Don't read the comments," Camille said without preamble.

"Too late."

"Elise…"

"I'm fine," she lied.

"No, you're not."

A beat. Elise let herself sink into the armchair, curling her knees to her chest like a child.

"I thought I was ready," she admitted. "But seeing it out there… It's like someone announced my failure to the world."

"You didn't fail, ma belle. You survived. That man—he took parts of you for years and never even realized. You're just reclaiming what's yours."

Elise closed her eyes. "I thought he would fight it more. That he'd try one last time to stop it."

Camille hesitated. "Maybe he did. Maybe he just didn't know how."

**

Across town, Victor Delcourt sat in his penthouse office, the press release still open on his screen.

He hadn't read it again. He didn't need to. Every word had been measured, weighed, and written to make him look composed, strong, and—most importantly—in control.

Except he wasn't.

He had felt it the moment the announcement went live. A piece of him had crumbled. Something fragile and vital—something he hadn't realized he was still holding on to.

Elise.

He ran a hand through his hair. The board would be pleased. Investors hated uncertainty. A clean, dignified separation would preserve his brand. Delcourt Industries could continue dominating markets without the shadow of a messy scandal.

But Victor, the man—not the billionaire, not the CEO—felt hollow.

He hadn't wanted it to end like this.

He hadn't wanted it to end at all.

"Sir?" his assistant's voice crackled through the intercom. "There's someone asking to see you."

"Who?"

There was a pause.

"She didn't give a name. But she said you'd know."

Victor's pulse quickened. "Send her in."

But it wasn't Elise.

It was his brother, Lucas.

**

Lucas walked in with the usual smugness he wore like cologne—uninvited, but never unwelcomed in his own mind.

"Well, well, big news today," he smirked, tossing a folded newspaper onto Victor's desk. "So it's really over, huh?"

Victor clenched his jaw. "What do you want?"

"Just checking in. Offering my condolences. I mean, if I'd known Elise was available again…"

Victor stood. "Don't finish that sentence."

Lucas raised his hands. "Relax. Just a joke."

"Get out."

But Lucas didn't move. His eyes narrowed, calculating.

"You never really appreciated her, did you?" he said quietly. "You treated her like one of your assets. Manageable. Predictable. But she wasn't."

Victor said nothing.

Lucas tilted his head. "The thing with people like Elise—they don't stay where they aren't seen."

Victor's hands tightened into fists. "And what would you know about seeing people, Lucas?"

"More than you think."

The door clicked shut behind him a moment later, leaving Victor alone with his own echoing regrets.

**

Later that evening, Elise went out.

She needed air. Movement. Noise that wasn't from her thoughts. She walked without destination, until she found herself outside a small bookstore café she used to visit before she was "Mrs. Delcourt."

Inside, the world was soft—paper-scented, warm, quiet in the way that invited reflection. She ordered a tea, sat by the window, and let her mind wander.

Someone approached.

"Elise?"

She looked up.

It was Marianne Langlois—former friend, socialite, and professional gossip.

"Elise, darling. I saw the news. I just had to check if you were okay."

Elise offered a tight smile. "I'm fine."

"You look… amazing, actually." Marianne leaned closer. "But tell me, was it really mutual? The article made it sound so… peaceful."

Elise raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that what everyone wants? A peaceful ending?"

Marianne laughed softly. "Not in our circles. We like our drama served with champagne and shattered vases."

"I don't."

The silence between them grew heavy.

"Elise," Marianne said, voice quieter now, "off the record… Did Victor cheat?"

"No," Elise said simply. "He didn't have to. There were other ways to disappear."

Marianne blinked, unsure how to respond. Elise took that moment to gather her things.

As she left, a small child bumped into her, giggling. His mother apologized, harried and exhausted. Elise smiled. The kind of smile that rises from deep within.

Something tugged inside her.

She placed a hand on her belly.

Soon.

**

That night, Victor couldn't sleep.

He had read every article. Watched every segment. Every photo of Elise taken in the past twenty-four hours was burned into his memory.

She looked… different. Lighter. Radiant, even.

And yet, he could tell. In her eyes, behind the poise—there was grief. Pain. Echoes of him.

He remembered the last thing she'd said to him before signing the papers.

"I don't hate you, Victor. That's the problem. I wanted to. But I think… a part of me always hoped you'd come for me—not as a CEO, not as a Delcourt—but just as you."

He had stayed silent then.

Cowardice disguised as pride.

But pride had never warmed his bed. It had never filled the silence at 3AM. It had never looked at him with eyes that forgave even what it couldn't forget.

Now, it was too late.

Or was it?

He grabbed his phone and opened a blank message.

To: Élise

You don't owe me anything. But I'd like to talk. Not as your ex-husband. Just… as Victor.

He hesitated. Then deleted it.

Not yet.

Not until he was ready to mean every word.

Not until he had become the man she deserved, not just the man who missed her.

**

Elise returns home that night to find an envelope slipped under her door. No name. No message. Just one ultrasound image inside.

Her name written on the back.

In Victor's handwriting.

__________________________