Chains of Power

“Sign it,” she said, her tone cutting through the silence like a blade. She slid the papers toward him, her hand precise, businesslike. “Sign it, Edmond, and let’s end this farce once and for all.”

Edmond lowered his gaze to the divorce papers. His fingers didn’t move. The muscles along his jaw tightened as though restraining words he had no intention of speaking.

For a long, quiet moment, he simply studied the page, as if the black letters carried a weight only he could feel. Finally, his voice came, low and deliberate. “Is that what you want, Selene?”

“It’s what I need.” Her reply was immediate, practiced, as though she had rehearsed this moment countless times in her head. “My career is hanging by a thread because of you. Every headline drags my name lower. Every whisper at every board meeting cuts deeper. I refuse to let your mistakes bury me alive.”

Edmond looked up slowly, and the corners of his mouth curved in a faint, bitter smile.

Selene’s eyes narrowed. “What else is there to see? You’re a convict, Edmond. Convicted. Shackled. That’s the truth, isn’t it?”

“Truth.” His voice lingered on the word, rolling it carefully. “Funny thing about truth, it doesn’t always belong to the one shouting the loudest.”

Her nails dug into the folder. “Don’t twist this. Don’t play riddles with me. The truth is simple: I married a man who ruined me. My father reminds me every day. The papers remind me every week. Do you think the board of directors will keep me when they see my last name still chained to yours?”

Edmond’s smile faded, leaving something heavier in its place. His silence was louder than her words.

Selene leaned forward, her voice dropping, her tone laced with frustration. “I’ve done enough, Edmond. I stood by you during the trial. I endured the whispers. I endured the shame. But I will not spend the rest of my life tied to this cell with you. So either you sign these papers, or I swear I will drag this through every court in the state until you have nothing left.”

For the first time, something flickered in Edmond’s eyes, something like pain, though buried deep. His hands, bound in iron, finally moved. He reached for the pen.

The chains rattled, the metallic clink echoing through the small room like a cruel punctuation. His grip was steady as he pressed the pen to paper. Selene forced herself not to look away.

The sound of the pen scratching across the page was louder than the hum of the lights, louder than the guards’ footsteps in the corridor. It was the sound of something breaking, though she didn’t allow herself to name what.

When he finished, Edmond set the pen down neatly, almost ceremoniously, and pushed the papers back toward her. “There,” he said softly. “You’re free.”

Selene’s chest rose and fell sharply. She picked up the papers as though they were a trophy, though her hands betrayed a faint tremor. “Good. I’ll make sure you’re compensated. You won’t leave here with nothing.”

Edmond’s laugh was soft but heavy, carrying no humor. He leaned back in his chair, the cuffs biting faintly against his skin. “Compensated,” he murmured. “You think that’s what I wanted from you?”

She frowned. “What else could you possibly want?”

His gaze caught hers, unwavering, and in that stillness, the coldest smile curved his lips. “Not this. Never this.”

Her pulse quickened, though she masked it with a practiced lift of her chin. “You act like I’ve wronged you,” she snapped. “When the truth is, you ruined me. If you’d ever truly loved me, you wouldn’t have dragged me through this nightmare.”

Edmond’s eyes darkened. “If I hadn’t loved you, Selene, you’d have been destroyed long before now.”

Her throat tightened. She forced a bitter laugh. “Love? Is that what you call it? Leaving me to carry the shame while you rot behind bars?”

His voice was steady, almost too steady. “I call it protecting you.”

Selene’s jaw clenched. “Protecting me?”

“Yes.” His gaze bored into her, unflinching. “And one day, when the people you trust the most cut your throat for profit, you’ll understand what I meant.”

Her fingers froze around the folder. For a heartbeat, unease slipped through her composure. “You talk like a prophet in chains. If you knew anything, you’d have told me.”

“I did tell you,” Edmond said quietly. “You just never wanted to listen.”

The words struck harder than she expected. For a second, memories stirred, his late-night warnings, the arguments she’d dismissed, the way he had grown quieter before the trial, carrying burdens he never explained. She shoved the thoughts aside before they could take root.

The door opened. A guard stepped inside. “Time’s up, Welder.”

Edmond rose to his feet. The chains rattled again, but his shoulders were square, his head unbowed. For the first time in months, Selene saw him not as a prisoner but as something else, something steadier, stronger, and for a brief moment, unfamiliar.

He paused at the door, his back to her. His voice came low, but clear, carrying like a verdict across the room. “Remember this moment, Selene. You wanted me gone. Don’t come looking when you realize what you’ve lost.”

The door shut behind him. Selene sat frozen, the papers clutched tightly in her hands. The victory she had imagined felt hollow, like a feast turned to ash. She told herself it was relief, that she was free, that nothing tied her to him anymore.

And yet, as the silence of the room pressed in, she could not shake the feeling that something had just slipped from her grasp, something she would never get back.