He blinked. “What…?” he began, but his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, frowned, then, without hesitation, scribbled his signature and shoved the papers back at me.
“Lilith’s waiting. If it’s another work document, leave it in my study next time,” he said, already striding toward the door.
I stared at the signature, at how easily he let me go. He ended our marriage as if I were nothing. Pathetic.
I tucked the papers under my arm and walked straight to the courthouse.
---
By evening, I returned home. Thorne was in the living room with Lilith, his arm draped possessively around her. “She’s being followed by some obsessive patient’s family,” he said casually. “She’ll stay in our master bedroom. You can take one of the guest rooms. Thanks to your brother’s mess. Don’t worry, once it’s safe, she’ll move to my new penthouse.”
“Do what you want,” I replied. The divorce was done. This house wasn’t mine anymore. I had no fight left.
He looked startled at my calmness, as if expecting tears or screams. His frown deepened, but before he could speak, Lilith spoke.