"Forget it, I’ll explain everything to Elena myself."
Dominic’s voice held no anger—only the same helpless indulgence he always showed Ivy.
She smiled sweetly, promised she’d never do it again, then tugged at his arm, pouting for him to stay a little longer.
I had long since lost count of how many times I cried. My tears dried, only to fall again.
When the lights finally flicked back on, Ivy stood before me in nothing but a thin camisole, her collarbone littered with red marks from their lovemaking.
She smirked.
“Did you hear that clearly?”
“In his eyes, the lives of your parents are just another one of my little ‘mistakes.’ So tell me, Elena—what do you have to fight me with?”
I didn’t respond. Didn’t move.
Seeing that I had lost the will to resist, Ivy scoffed, tossed a few final insults my way, and sauntered out.
The moment the door shut, I pulled out my phone and opened the voice recorder. Then, I hit send.
[This time, I’m taking Ivy to court—and I won’t stop until she’s sentenced.]
The reply from my lawyer came almost instantly:
[I told you to wait and gather everything for this moment. This time, we’ll win.]
[Send the divorce agreement to Dominic’s office. I want it on his desk before he hears from me again.]
After I handled my father's funeral arrangements, I sat quietly outside the operating room, waiting for my abortion. While reading over the legal complaint, my phone rang.
It was Dominic.
“The hospital was negligent about your father,” he said. “I’ve already held them accountable.”
“Let’s plan your parents’ funeral properly. I’ll pick you up when I’m done here.”
My voice was calm. “Alright.”
Just as I was about to hang up, he hesitated.
“Where are you?” he asked, uneasy.
I laughed softly, bitterly.
“Obstetrics and gynecology,” I said.
“Waiting for the abortion.”
The silence on the other end was followed by a sharp gasp—and then the clatter of his phone hitting the floor.
I ended the call and turned off my phone.
Then I stood and walked into the operating room.
Dominic, when I come out—
we’ll settle everything. One by one.
—
At his office, Dominic stared at the screen. The call had ended.
He dialed again. No answer.
Again. Still nothing.
Panic bloomed in his chest.
He shot to his feet, grabbing his coat.
Just as he reached the door, his assistant stepped in, holding a stack of documents.
“Sir, about the meeting—”
“Push it to tomorrow. I have something urgent.”
The assistant hesitated, then pulled one document from the bottom of the pile.
“This… Miss Shaw asked me to deliver this to you personally.”
Dominic reached for it.
Then froze.
His eyes landed on the bold black words at the top of the page.
Divorce Agreement.
