I Agree To Divorce

POV: First-person.

The suffocating grip around my throat cut off my air, the pressure intense enough to make dark spots dance in my vision, but I refused to look away from Damian’s hostile eyes. I clawed at his unforgiving hand, my lungs burning as I accepted the harsh truth. I could never force a man like him to stay through mere pleading. I had to try one last, desperate tactic.

“I agree to the divorce,” I rasped, the words scraping against my bruised throat as his fingers loosened slightly. “But on one condition.”

He dropped his hand, letting me finally breathe. I dragged in a jagged gasp of air and laid out my terms. “You must stay in the villa with me for the rest of the night, and attend your late grandfather’s funeral tomorrow. I promise to sign the divorce papers immediately after the funeral concludes.”

Damian narrowed his dark eyes, viewing my heavy compromise with sarcastic mockery. He leaned in close, the deep vibration of his voice sending a shiver down my spine.

“You need to be capable of doing things, Adeline,” he whispered, his tone husky with ambiguous intent. “Not just by using your mouth.”

The demeaning demand hung heavy in the stifling room. I pushed past the bitter humiliation flushing my cheeks. Reaching up awkwardly, I wrapped my arms around his rigid waist. I leaned in, pressing my lips to his in a submissive kiss. The height difference made the gesture feel clumsy, a pitiful and desperate way to anchor my husband to our marital home. I didn't know much about love, but I knew begging for it like this was a wretched existence.

To my shock, this degrading act caused him to relent. Damian pulled back, his dark eyes glinting with cryptic satisfaction. Without another word, he reached for his gray pajamas and pulled them on. He was actually going to stay.

A fragile breath of relief caught in my bruised heart, but before any trace of happiness could settle, a frail, ghostly voice pierced straight through the pouring rain outside the window.

“Damian…”

Damian reacted instantaneously. He abandoned me without a second glance, striding out onto the balcony. I stumbled after him, the cold wind whipping my face.

Standing recklessly below in the freezing, torrential downpour was Sienna Briggs. She wore only a thin strap dress, looking pitiful as the storm battered her frail figure.

Damian snatched his heavy coat and rushed downstairs. From the balcony, I watched the melodramatic reunion unfold. He reached her in seconds, wrapping the thick coat securely around her shivering body. She sobbed, dramatically throwing herself into his protective arms.

A bitter realization crashed over me. Even after two long years of marriage, I had still lost to a single manipulative phone call and a theatrical stunt from Sienna.

I hurried down the stairs. By the time I reached the ground floor, Damian was carrying Sienna inside to seek shelter. I stepped forward, standing stubbornly at the stairwell, blocking their path to the upper floors.

“Damian, when we married, you promised your grandfather that you wouldn’t bring Sienna into our villa as long as I’m still here,” I reminded him firmly.

This house was my only remaining sanctuary, the final piece of territory I shared with my husband. I was desperate to prevent him from tainting it. I had let him spend countless nights elsewhere with her, but this was my boundary.

Damian glared at me with frigid, unfiltered disgust.

“Move!” he shouted ruthlessly, dismissing my plea.

I stood my ground, my nails digging so hard into my palms that they almost drew blood. My eyes stung with unshed tears, hurting far more than the dull ache in my chest. I had to watch the man I loved cradle another woman with the very tenderness he continually denied me.

“Ha! Adeline, you overestimated yourself.” With a cruel sneer, he dragged me out of the way. He treated me like a piece of trash blocking his path, his large hand shoving my shoulder against the banister.

Reduced to the status of an outsider in my own home, I could only watch helplessly as he carried the shivering Sienna past me, heading directly into the guest room.

Because of her fragile physique and prolonged exposure to the freezing rain, Sienna quickly developed a severe fever. I stood near the doorway, witnessing a twisted display of affection.

Damian remained firmly by her side. He moved with careful precision, changing her wet clothes. He warmed her pale skin with hot towels, displaying a level of care he had never once shown his own wife.

Treating me as nothing more than an annoying eyesore, Damian turned with cold indifference and issued a harsh command.

“You’ll return to the Ashford residence now! I can’t go back tonight with Sienna like this.”

I stared at him, stunned. He wanted me to leave the villa at this late hour, all alone. The Ashford mansion was miles away. The storm raged outside, making the roads treacherous. It was unsafe for a woman to travel alone in the dead of night, yet all Damian cared about was ensuring I didn't disturb Sienna’s rest.

Suppressing the agonizing pain tearing through my chest, I replied with eerie calmness. “I’ll be returning to the bedroom. It’s not suitable for me… to go back now!”

I flatly refused to sabotage my own safety just because my husband didn't love me.

Turning on my heel, I decisively left the guest room.

As I stepped out into the dim corridor, I unexpectedly ran into a frantic figure rushing toward us. It was Simon Cross, Damian’s best friend and a renowned surgeon. His slender body was dressed in black pajamas, drenched from the storm. Water dripped from his messy hair onto the hardwood floorboards. He had clearly been in such a frantic hurry to reach Sienna that he hadn't even stopped to change his shoes, sprinting through the treacherous night just to make sure she was safe.