My Ex Stole Our Son's Bone Marrow

Emelia Chapman fancied herself quite the little trickster, cooking up an outrageous scheme. Determined to wriggle out of her arranged marriage, she spun a story about falling for a younger man—claiming it was true love, of all things.

David Richards, her husband, glanced down at the wedding band on his left hand, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "I wasn't aware my wife had a thing for younger men," he said, his tone laced with amusement.

Emelia coughed awkwardly, guilt creeping into her voice. "When true love hits, you can't stop it. I'm just hoping you'll let us be happy."

"Have you slept with him?" David asked, one eyebrow raised, his expression hovering somewhere between curiosity and entertainment.

The bluntness of the question made her hesitate. She looked at his composed face, felt a flicker of intimidation, and finally confessed, "Not yet."

"But if you keep dragging your feet on this divorce, I can't guarantee that'll last," she added, lifting her chin defiantly—like she was burning every bridge behind her.

David just kept staring at her, that same amused gleam in his eyes. It made Emelia uncomfortable, so she turned her head away, desperate to escape his gaze.

It wasn't that she was being dramatic—she genuinely couldn't keep living like this. They'd been married for six months, and it wasn't the honeymoon phase she'd imagined. Hell, she barely saw him once a week.

Her husband was a workaholic, constantly busy. Either he was at the office, or jetting off to some overseas branch. Even on the nights he did come home, he'd disappear into his study and work until the early hours—long after Emelia had already passed out.

To her, this marriage was a total disaster!

When she first heard about the arranged marriage with the Richards family, she'd been willing. Secretly thrilled, even. David was undeniably handsome, tall and commanding—he just had this presence that made you look twice.

In New York's elite circles, who wouldn't want to marry David Richards?

And yet, this golden opportunity had landed in Emelia's lap, only to leave her feeling suffocated.

After the wedding, David turned cold and distant. Even basic companionship felt like a luxury. Every expectation she had? Completely dashed.

Emelia was someone who craved emotional connection. She wanted to share dinner rolls and coffee together, take walks, binge a whole show side by side, gossip in bed before drifting off in each other's arms.

Instead, she'd been left disappointed. David was stingy with any hint of warmth or affection. Even when they shared a bed, it felt like a duty—empty, mechanical. He'd roll over and leave, no sweet whispers, no lingering touch.

She figured he must not love her.

Years ago, she'd heard rumors that David once had a serious girlfriend—someone he almost married. Tragically, the girl had fallen gravely ill and passed away. People talked about it with such reverence, telling stories of his profound love.

Then one day, without warning, those stories just stopped.

Emelia didn't want to compete with a ghost.

She had genuinely cared for David. She'd been ready to put in the work. But reality had shattered that dream, and she was done compromising her own happiness.

After much thought, she landed on divorce. But the approach had to be strategic. If she made herself the villain—struck at his pride—maybe he'd let go. Otherwise, a simple request would go nowhere. Neither David nor their families would ever agree.

"Why are you staring at me like that? Just make a decision," Emelia said, fidgeting under his gaze.

David rose from the couch and moved toward his desk, saying calmly, "Go home for now. Divorce isn't something to rush. We'll talk this evening."

Emelia followed him, planting herself in front of his desk and looking down at him. "David, it's not that complicated. We didn't sign a prenup, but I'm not trying to take anything from you. What's not mine, I don't want. We split things fairly and part as friends—no drama."

"Hmph," David scoffed under his breath, his eyes still scanning his documents. "In such a hurry? Is the young guy putting the pressure on?"

Emelia put on a show, sighing dramatically. "It's not that he's pressuring me. I just don't want to hold him back."

"Didn't realize my wife was so considerate. You must really be into this younger man," David said, every word dripping with irony.

Emelia bristled at his laughter. "You wouldn't get it, but he makes me happy."

David paused mid-motion, then asked in a mock-casual tone, "Oh, really? In what way?"

Emelia shot back haughtily, "No comment."

"Now I'm even more curious."

David closed the folder, tossed his pen onto the desk, and fixed her with a serious look. "Go home. I'm working, and I have a meeting soon. I'm not in the mood for this."

Emelia, rattled by his stern expression, swallowed the retort on the tip of her tongue.

"Fine. When you're not busy, think it over. I'm leaving."

David watched her go, let out a long breath, and picked up the phone beside him.

Emelia left Richards Corporation and drove back to her school.

She worked in administration at a prestigious elementary school—nowhere near as demanding as teaching, which gave her some leeway.

On her way back, her phone buzzed with a call from her friend Lorelai Bailey. She pulled over to answer.

"So, how did it go with Mr. Iceberg?" Lorelai teased.

Emelia rested her hand on the steering wheel, sighing. "He didn't give me an answer. Said we'd talk tonight at home."

"What's there to talk about? If he doesn't love you, cut him loose! You shouldn't stay married to someone who doesn't care—that's so not okay!" Lorelai huffed.

"Like he said, divorce is a big deal. Maybe he's got things to consider. I'm the one at fault here, so it's fair if I get less," Emelia replied.

Lorelai sounded disappointed. "I thought you'd wrap it up today. I even got ready to pop some champagne—reserved a table at a restaurant."

"Really?" Emelia chuckled. "Where?"

"Where else? Your favorite—Magnolia Grill," Lorelai said.

Emelia thought for a moment. "David never gets home before eight, so I doubt tonight will be any different. Let's grab dinner after work, and I'll head home after."

"Perfect, see you at five then," Lorelai agreed.

Emelia hung up and noticed a message from David: "I have dinner plans, will be back late."

"Okay, I'll wait for you," she mumbled, a hint of sarcasm slipping into her voice. It would honestly be a surprise if he came home early.