The Hidden Billionaire’s Final Goodbye

8. The Last Request

The sound of the front door opening broke the silence of the house.

Lucas sat in the living room, a book resting unopened on his lap. He had been waiting—not because he hoped Amelia would return, but because he knew the conversation they had avoided for years could no longer be postponed.

Amelia stepped inside, carrying her handbag and a thin folder. She barely glanced at him.

“Lucas. We need to talk.”

He closed the book. “About what?”

Amelia walked toward the coffee table and placed the folder in front of him. “About our marriage.”

Lucas looked down. The words on the first page were unmistakable: *Divorce Agreement*.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Lucas lifted his gaze. “You’ve already prepared the documents.”

“Yes.”

Amelia sat across from him, her posture straight and her expression composed, almost relieved to have finally brought the matter into the open. “Our marriage isn’t working anymore. We’ve been unhappy for a long time. There’s no point in pretending otherwise.”

Lucas studied her face. “Are you sure?”

Amelia frowned. “What kind of question is that?”

“Are you absolutely certain you want a divorce?”

“Yes, Lucas. I’m certain.”

He looked at the folder again. Four years. Four years of waking up beside her, of waiting for her to come home, of believing that perhaps one day she would look at him the way she once had. And now, she was sitting across from him with divorce papers.

“You’ve made your decision,” he said quietly.

“I have.”

“Then tell me why.”

Amelia let out a frustrated breath. “Because I can’t live like this anymore! You can’t give me the life I want. You can’t provide the things I need. I’m tired of being tied to a man who has nothing to offer me.”

Lucas’s expression remained still. “Nothing?”

“You know what I mean.”

“No,” he replied. “I want to hear you say it.”

Amelia’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a delivery man, Lucas. You spend your days riding around the city, carrying other people’s orders. You have no influence, no connections, no future that I can be proud of. What kind of life do you think I’m supposed to have with you?”

Lucas felt something stir in his chest—not anger, but something far more painful. “You think I gave you nothing?”

Amelia crossed her arms. “What have you given me? A small house? An ordinary life? I’ve had to endure the humiliation of being married to someone my family can barely respect.”

“I gave you everything I had,” Lucas said.

Amelia’s expression hardened. “Everything you had wasn’t enough.”

“And you never once wondered why I could afford to do them?”

Amelia looked away. “I never asked you to.”

“No,” Lucas said. “You simply expected me to.”

The silence between them grew heavier. Amelia opened the folder and pushed it closer to him. “Can we please stop doing this? I don’t want another argument. Just sign the papers.”

Lucas looked at the document. “Is Adrian waiting for you?”

Her fingers tightened around the edge of the folder. “That has nothing to do with this.”

“Does he know you’re asking me for a divorce?”

“Yes.”

“And he’s promised to help your father’s company?”

Amelia’s eyes flashed. “Why are you asking so many questions? You’re making this more difficult than it needs to be.”

Lucas gave a faint, humorless smile. “I’m trying to understand what happened to the woman I married.”

Amelia stood abruptly. “The woman you married was never meant to spend her life with someone like you!”

The words rang through the room. She seemed to realize how harsh they sounded, but instead of taking them back, she lifted her chin. “You should be grateful, Lucas. You had the chance to marry a woman like me. Do you have any idea how many men would have wanted to be in your position?”

Lucas stared at her. “You’re right,” he said.

Amelia blinked, apparently surprised. “What?”

“I should be grateful.”

A flicker of satisfaction crossed her face.

Lucas reached for the folder. “Grateful that I finally know the truth.”

Amelia’s expression shifted. “Lucas—”

He picked up the pen. For a moment, he looked at the signature line—his name waited there, beside the name of the woman he had once believed would be his forever. He thought about the wedding photograph in their bedroom, the promise he had made, and the life he had tried to build.

Then he signed. His hand didn’t tremble.

He placed the pen down and pushed the documents back toward Amelia. She stared at the signature. It was done. After four years, Lucas had finally let her go.

He leaned back in his chair, his eyes meeting hers one last time. “Congratulations,” he said, his voice calm. “You’re finally free.”