A Divorce She Regrets

CHAPTER 3

For a long moment, Ethan did not move.

He stood there in the middle of the prison yard, staring down at the divorce papers scattered across the concrete. The check lay nearby, fluttering slightly in the breeze.

Ten thousand dollars.

That was what three years of his life was worth to her.

Behind him, the guard shifted uncomfortably. A few other inmates who were being processed watched from a distance, their faces curious. They could sense the tension in the air. The kind of tension that came before something broke.

Vivian stood beside her luxury car, arms folded, waiting. Her expression was smug. Satisfied. Like someone who had just won a game.

She expected him to beg. To drop to his knees and plead with her. To tell her he would change, that he would be better, that he would do anything if she would just take him back.

That was what weak men did.

And in her mind, Ethan Cross was the weakest man she had ever known.

Slowly, Ethan bent down. His knees creaked slightly as he crouched. His hand reached out and picked up the check.

Vivian's smile widened. See? He was going to take the money after all. He was going to crawl away like the pathetic insect he was.

Ethan straightened. He looked at the check in his hand. Ten thousand dollars. Written in Vivian's neat, elegant handwriting.

Then, without a word, he tore it in half.

Vivian's smile froze.

He tore it again. And again. And again. His movements were calm. Methodical. There was no anger in his face. No rage. Just cold, quiet finality.

When the pieces were too small to tear anymore, Ethan opened his hand and let them fall. They drifted down like snow, scattering across the ground.

Vivian's mouth opened slightly. For the first time since arriving, uncertainty flickered in her eyes.

"What do you think you are—"

"Give me a pen," Ethan said quietly.

His voice was so calm it was almost frightening.

Vivian blinked. "What?"

"A pen," Ethan repeated. "Unless you want me to sign with my finger."

For a moment, Vivian just stared at him. Then she reached into her bag, pulled out an expensive silver pen, and held it out.

Ethan took it without looking at her.

He bent down again and picked up the divorce papers. He did not read them. He did not ask questions. He simply pressed the papers against the hood of her car, clicked the pen, and signed his name at the bottom.

One stroke. Clean and final.

Ethan Cross.

He straightened, folded the papers neatly, and handed them back to Vivian.

She took them slowly, her fingers trembling slightly. She had expected a fight. Tears. Desperate pleas. But instead, he had signed without hesitation. Without a single word of protest.

Ethan looked at her one last time. His eyes were empty. Not angry. Not sad. Just… empty.

"Goodbye, Vivian," he said quietly.

Then he turned around and walked away.

His footsteps echoed across the concrete. Steady. Unhurried. He did not look back. Not even once.

Vivian stood frozen, watching his back disappear toward the outer gates. Her heart was beating strangely fast. Her hands felt cold.

For a brief, flickering moment, something twisted in her chest. Something uncomfortable. Almost like regret.

But she shook it off quickly.

He was just pretending. Playing the noble martyr. Acting strong to salvage his pathetic pride. Men always did that when they lost. They puffed up their chests and pretended they did not care.

But she knew the truth.

Deep down, he was broken. Destroyed. And soon enough, reality would crush him completely.

Vivian let out a breath and smoothed down the front of her dress. She glanced at the signed divorce papers in her hand and smiled.

It was done.

She was free.

Free to rise. Free to build her empire. Free to stand beside someone who actually mattered.

She pulled out her phone, her fingers moving quickly across the screen. The call connected after two rings.

"Marcus?" Vivian's voice was sweet again. Playful. All traces of coldness gone. "It is done. I divorced him."

On the other end of the line, Marcus Ashford's smooth, confident voice replied. "Good girl. I knew you would not disappoint me."

Vivian laughed softly, leaning against her car. "He signed it without even putting up a fight. Tore up the check I gave him like some kind of hero." She rolled her eyes. "Pathetic."

"Forget about him," Marcus said dismissively. "He is nobody. A worthless ex-convict. You made the right choice."

"I know." Vivian twirled a strand of hair around her finger. "So, is everything ready for tonight? The meeting with the Sterling executive?"

"Everything is in place," Marcus assured her. "I have arranged a private room at the Sapphire Club. Very exclusive. Very discreet. This executive has… particular tastes. But if we play this right, the partnership deal is as good as ours."

Vivian's eyes gleamed. "And the girl? Did you bring her like I asked?"

There was a pause.

Then Marcus laughed. It was a low, dark sound that made Vivian shiver with excitement.

"Yes," he said slowly, savoring the words. "His blind sister is already at the club.”