He did not even blink. His thumb continued scrolling, scrolling, scrolling through whatever was more important than this moment.
My heart died right there in that study.
Three years of patience and devotion, three years of enduring silent meals and cold shoulders, three years of hoping he would remember why he married me, were reduced to a lapse in judgment worth one hundred twenty million dollars.
I felt a bitter taste rise in my throat and swallowed it down.
I looked at Arthur and, to his visible shock, I did not scream. I did not beg. I did not throw the check back in his face.
I smiled.
A small, calm smile that seemed to unsettle him more than tears ever could.
I placed my hand on my stomach, where four tiny lives were just beginning to take root.
The surprise I had been waiting to tell Julian for three days, ever since the doctor confirmed it with wide eyes and repeated tests.
Quadruplets. Four babies. A medical miracle.
Now, it was a secret I would take with me.
“Fine,” I said.
One word. Calm as a graveyard, cold as winter.
I picked up the pen he had laid out, flipped to the last page of the divorce decree that had clearly been prepared days ago, and signed my name.
Nora Vance.
Not Sterling. Vance.
I never really belonged to them anyway.
I picked up the check, folded it carefully, and slipped it into my pocket.
Then I walked out of that study for the last time.
The air in the study turned to stone as I pocketed that check.
Arthur looked genuinely stunned. He had clearly practiced his angry father-in-law speech for an hour, prepared counterarguments for my tears and pleas.
I had just robbed him of the performance.
Julian finally looked away from his phone. His brow furrowed, a flicker of confusion crossing his perfect features, perhaps even a hint of something darker.
But I did not care.
Whatever emotions he was capable of feeling, they came three years too late.
“I will be out in thirty minutes,” I said.
I left the study and walked up the grand staircase one last time, my hand trailing along the bannister I had polished with my own hands when the staff was overwhelmed.
I went to what had been our bedroom, though Julian had not slept there in over a year.
He preferred his suite in the east wing, far from me.
I did not touch the designer gowns hanging in the walk-in closet, clothes Arthur had bought to make me look presentable at charity functions.
I did not take the diamonds or the pearls or any of the jewelry that came with being a Sterling wife.
I reached into the very back of the closet and pulled out the beat-up suitcase I had arrived with three years ago.
The same suitcase I had used in college, covered in stickers from places I had never been but dreamed of visiting.
I stripped off the expensive silk dress I was wearing and pulled on my old jeans and a white t-shirt.
Clothes that were mine, bought with money I had earned, worn thin from actual life.
As I zipped the suitcase closed, the weight that had been sitting on my chest for three years finally lifted.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
It was the Sterling family lawyer, a man named Robert who had always looked at me with thinly veiled distaste.
“Ms. Vance, the CEO wants to confirm you have signed the papers?”
“It is done,” I said, my voice steady. “Tell him he got exactly what he paid for.”
I walked down the stairs for the last time.
The living room was empty. They did not even bother to watch me leave.
Perfect.
I walked out the front door of the Sterling Estate, pulling my suitcase behind me.
The night air was cold and clean, washing away three years of suffocation.
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