Gerrit kicked the double doors of the Emergency Room open. "I need a doctor right now!" he roared, his voice cracking with panic.
He laid Kaia down on a hospital bed. A doctor rushed over with a pair of trauma shears and cut the wet fabric away from her neck.
The harsh fluorescent lights exposed the massive, angry blisters covering her collarbone and shoulder. Gerrit stared at the ruined skin. His large hands began to shake uncontrollably.
"I'm going to administer a strong painkiller," the doctor said, pulling on gloves. "And I need to draw blood for a full panel to check for infection."
Kaia's heart slammed against her ribs. If they ran her blood, the late-stage cancer and organ failure would be exposed immediately.
She reached out and clamped her uninjured hand over the doctor's wrist. "No blood tests," she said, her voice weak but absolute. "I have severe allergies to certain medical plastics."
Gerrit frowned deeply. He stepped closer to the bed. "Do the full blood panel. She was rolling on the floor in agony last night."
Kaia slowly turned her head. She locked her eyes onto his. "You told me I was acting last night, Gerrit. Why pretend to care now?"
The words hit Gerrit like a slap to the face. His mouth opened, but he had absolutely nothing to say. A deep, ugly wave of guilt washed over his features.
He took a step back. He didn't argue with her again. The doctor sighed, cleaned the burns, applied a thick layer of silver sulfadiazine cream, and wrapped her shoulder in white gauze.
The doctor and nurses left the cubicle. The curtain slid shut. The small space smelled heavily of bleach and sterile bandages.
Gerrit stood at the foot of the bed. He looked at her pale, exhausted face. He opened his mouth, trying to find the words to explain what happened upstairs with Seraphina.
Kaia raised her uninjured hand, stopping him.
She looked at Alaia, who was standing quietly in the corner. "You went back to the penthouse for my ID, right? Did you bring it?"
Alaia nodded, her expression grim. "I grabbed everything you left on the coffee table." She pulled the manila envelope out of her bag and handed it to Gerrit.
Gerrit looked confused. He pulled the thick stack of papers out. The bold black letters at the top of the page read: Divorce Settlement Agreement.
His head snapped up. He stared at her, his eyes wide with shock. "What is this?"
Kaia leaned back against the thin hospital pillow. The rigid posture she always maintained was gone. She looked completely transparent, like she might fade away into the sheets.
"I am tired," she said softly. "I don't want to play this game anymore. I agree to the divorce."
Gerrit rapidly flipped through the pages. His eyes scanned the legal jargon. He froze. "You are giving up all claims to the Woodward family trust and the premarital assets?"
Kaia pointed a weak finger at the final page. "I am voluntarily waiving all income rights to my premarital assets and transferring them entirely to you," she said, her voice raspy but absolute. "In exchange, just wire five million dollars to my account as a clean buyout. And ensure my final will's specific musical arrangements are honored."
Five million dollars was pocket change to the Downs family. Asking for such a low amount was the ultimate insult to their marriage.
Gerrit's fingers gripped the paper so hard the edges crumpled. A sudden, terrifying panic gripped his chest. It felt like something vital was being ripped out of his life forever.
"This is ridiculous," Gerrit said, his voice tight. "I'm not signing this. I need my lawyers to review it."
Kaia looked at him. Her eyes were completely dead. "Why hesitate? Isn't this the freedom you've been punishing me for?"
That sentence struck Gerrit's weakest point. He looked at the thick white bandages covering her neck, the physical evidence of his blindness and Seraphina’s cruelty. His mind was a chaotic mess of guilt, confusion, and the crushing realization that he no longer had the right to hold her captive.
The guilt won.
Gerrit reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket. He pulled out his Montblanc fountain pen. He flipped to the last page and aggressively signed his name on the dotted line—not as a gift to Seraphina, but as the only way to stop the bleeding of Kaia’s dignity.
He handed her copy back to her. He stared at her for one long, heavy second, then turned and walked out of the ER cubicle.
Kaia looked down at the paper. The two signatures sat side by side. A single tear fell from her eye and hit the ink. Three years of secret love and marriage were officially dead.
