At the birthday party, my daughter was just about to blow out her candles.
Victor Sanchez leaned in with a smile, his tone light—as if he were telling a joke.
"Talia Abbott, sweetie, Mommy and Daddy are getting divorced. Why don't you make a wish for Aunt Rebecca Harding to give you a little brother?"
The smile froze on my daughter's face. Her eyes filled with tears in an instant.
The next second, she burst into wails, the fork slipping from her trembling fingers.
Victor clicked his tongue in irritation.
I couldn't take it anymore. I scooped Talia into my arms and carried her to the bedroom.
After I finally got her to sleep, I took the divorce agreement and found Victor.
"I signed it."
He blinked, clearly caught off guard. After all my desperate clinging before, he hadn't expected me to let go so easily.
But relief washed over his face almost immediately.
"Should've come around sooner. Don't worry—Rebecca's still just a girl at heart. She's not cut out to be a stepmother. The kid's yours."
For six months, he'd done everything to force this divorce. Cut off my living expenses. Gave me the silent treatment. Transferred assets out of reach. Every cruel trick in the book.
And now, at our daughter's birthday party, he said this.
Fine. If he wanted to be rid of us so badly, I'd grant his wish.
I just hoped that when the truth came out, he wouldn't regret it enough to want to die.
——
Victor took the signed agreement, barely able to contain the smile tugging at his lips. He was already dialing the legal department before the ink had dried.
"Yeah, it's done. She signed."
"Draft the announcement immediately. Release it after the market closes tomorrow—minimize the impact on the stock price. And get me an inventory of those vacant properties under my name."
I listened to him arrange everything with cold efficiency. I said nothing.
Instead, I bent down and picked up the birthday crown from the floor. The one he'd crushed underfoot.
It was a cheap plastic thing, half the rhinestones already missing.
It wasn't that we couldn't afford better. Talia had insisted on this one because her daddy made it with his own hands last year, during a craft session at her preschool. She'd treasured it like gold, wearing it even after she'd outgrown it.
And just now, Victor had stepped on it without a second glance.
Something cold and heavy lodged in my chest—like cotton soaked in ice water, pressing against my heart until it ached.
Victor hung up and noticed me holding the ruined crown. Annoyance flickered across his face.
"Stop picking up that junk. We're divorced now, but I'm not going to leave you with nothing. This villa is yours—you and the kid can stay. Talia's used to the place anyway."
"I'll also give you five million dollars. Odette Cox, learn to be grateful. That's enough for you and the child to live out the rest of your lives."
"And I appreciate you being sensible about this. No hysterics like before. You've saved me a lot of trouble."
His phone screen lit up. The coldness in his eyes melted instantly, replaced by a tenderness I hadn't seen in years.
"Anyway, the agreement's signed. I should go."
"Rebecca just called—she's scared of the thunder. You know how timid she is. She can't be alone. If I'm late, she won't sleep all night."
My fingers tightened around the broken crown.
Talia had just cried herself into convulsions because of him. Her own father hadn't spared her a single thought.
But that woman was afraid of a little thunder, and he couldn't get to her fast enough.
Before I could respond, Victor was already at the door.
He changed his shoes. Grabbed his car keys. Adjusted his collar in the mirror.
Every movement smooth and practiced. Not a trace of hesitation. Not a flicker of regret.
The door slammed shut behind him.
The house fell into a silence so complete it felt like death.
The tension drained from my spine all at once. I crumpled onto the carpet, boneless.
