My tears ran out days ago. What remained was a quiet burn. Like embers refusing to die. It’s devastating, yet I was trying to move on—slowly. But that photo… it clawed its way back into my mind at random moments.
The handwriting on the back of it was neat, slanted slightly to the right. It reminded me of someone who paid attention to detail. Not vindictive, but intentional. It didn’t feel like a threat, but more like a warning.
I took it out again, holding it by the edges like it might burn me. I stared at the watermark I hadn’t noticed before—GoldPix Studios. That was where Zach used to have his early promo shoots back when his label was just starting out. He mentioned it once—said they used to rent a suite at the back for after-parties which I now suspected meant champagne-fueled hookups and egos on full display.
The burn in my chest grew into something sharper. Sure, I wanted answers. But more than that, I wanted control over my life again. I was pouring Liam’s milk when the headlights flashed across the window. My heart constricted inside my chest.
Only one person still drove that matte black Lexus and had the nerve to show up unannounced. The doorbell rang once. Twice. Thrice. I took a breath, gathering all the courage I could muster. My hands trembled slightly as I opened the door. I hated that he could still get under my skin.
“Arianne,” he said softly, like my name was a bruise he wanted to press gently.
I didn’t budge. “What do you want, Zachary?”
“I thought we should talk,” he began. “About Liam. About us.”
“There is nothing to talk about,” I said, voice flat. “Not anymore.”
He looked down, pulled something from his coat. An envelope. He held it out like a peace offering.
“I know you agreed,” he said. “My lawyer was supposed to bring this to you, but I decided to hand it to you in person. Closure.”
I gave a hollow laugh. “That’s rich coming from someone who got caught on national television. You didn’t just ruin a marriage. You made a mockery of it.”
Closure. Such a neat little word for a war that wrecked me. I didn’t reach for the envelope. I reached for the only thing I had left—my dignity. I was about to slam the door in his face when a quiet voice interrupted us.
“Dad?”
I craned my head to look at my son. Liam stood on the staircase in his dinosaur pajamas, rubbing his eyes.
Zach’s expression softened immediately. “Hey, buddy.”
Liam didn’t move. “Why are you here?” he asked flatly.
Zach hesitated for a second and continued. “I came to see how you’re doing. I brought the—”
“I told you not to come,” Liam said, voice steady.
Zach blinked, stunned. “I know. I missed you, buddy. I just thought maybe you want us to bond like we used to.”
“How could you do that when you’re with her?” he asked in a soft, low sheepish voice.
“Liam, I can always find time for you, you know that, right?”
“I doubt it. Tell me, Dad, are you gonna marry your assistant now?”
Silence wafted in the air. My son’s question was direct, unfiltered, and a jab to his innocent heart. I was hurt by the raw pain I saw in his eyes, yet I had to compose myself.
Zach cleared his throat. “It’s complicated, Liam.”
“I’m sick and you made Mom cry.” Liam sobbed, eyes misting from tears. “I hate you, Dad!”
Zach opened his mouth, but no words came out. He tried to step inside the foyer but I stopped him.
“You should go now.”
Zach’s jaw clenched. “Arianne, he’s my son.”
“Exactly.” My voice shook, but I held the line. “He’s not your PR redemption arc. He’s not your pity project now that your scandal broke into a million headlines. He’s a child. And you don't get to drop in like this and pretend like you didn't torch our entire lives.”
He shifted slightly, one foot still on the welcome mat like he couldn’t decide if he was intruding or entitled. “I didn’t plan for it to happen like this. Celine—she’s a wonderful woman—”
I raised a hand, stopping him curtly. “I don’t care about your spin. I care about my son’s heartbeat not rising every time he hears a car in the driveway.”
He looked down, sighing, and finally dropped the envelope on the shoe bench beside the door. “Fine. I’m not here to ask for forgiveness anymore. Just read the terms.”
I watched him strode toward his car. Once I locked the door, my phone vibrated in my pocket. A message from an unknown number.
You believed he’s there for closure?
You should read the fine print, Arianne.
I fumbled for the envelope Zach left earlier. I’d assumed it held divorce papers. But when I ripped it open and pulled out the stack of documents—it had two documents inside. One was for divorce petition and the other was a petition for full custody of Liam.
Filed by Zachary Hatton. And co-signed by Celine Lovelet.
My world lurched sideways. My knees buckled against the edge of the counter as reality sank in. They were never going to stop at betrayal. They weren’t just playing house.
They were planning to steal my son!
