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I walked into the law office with my divorce papers clutched in my hand. Four years. Four years as Chloe Archer, wife of Alexander Archer, heir to the most powerful mafia family in Seattle. Today, it ended. The lawyer didn’t even look up when I walked in. “I’d like to file for divorce,” I said, placing the papers on his desk. He finally glanced at me. Messy ponytail. Faded jeans. My backpack still slung over one shoulder. His expression turned stern. “Young lady, divorce isn’t something you file on a whim.” I understood why he didn’t take me seriously. I looked like a college student. Someone who had wandered into the wrong office. Not someone who had been married for four years. But I was prepared. “Just stamp the papers,” I said calmly. “I’ll get my husband’s signature.” The Archer estate was too quiet when I returned. The guards at the gate didn’t even blink as I passed. Just another invisible fixture in Alexander’s world. I headed straight for Alexander’s study. The door was slightly open. I could hear laughter inside. Then I smelled it. Truffles. Alexander always said he hated strong smells in the house. No garlic. No fish. Nothing that lingered. But now, the air was thick with the scent of expensive white truffles. The kind you only get if you are the right person. I pushed the door open. There he was. Alexander Archer, my husband. Sitting at his desk. Relaxed in a way I’d never seen with me. Beside him was Serena Stone. His childhood best friend. Back in Seattle this year after her divorce. She was feeding him a piece of bread covered in truffles. Her fingers lingering just a second too long. Then Alexander saw me. His smile disappeared. “Chloe,” he said. His voice was cool. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.” Serena turned. Her perfect red lips curled into a smile. “Oh, Chloe! We were just having a snack.” “There’s only enough for two, but I’m sure we can—” “I’m fine.” I cut her off. I stepped forward. I slid the document across the polished mahogany desk. The rustle of paper was unnaturally loud in the silent study. Alexander barely glanced up from his whiskey. His glass froze midway to his lips. His eyes narrowed slightly. “What’s this?” “The university needs a signed safety liability form.” I flipped it open to the signature page. “For my research project.” I swallowed. “Since you’re my only family now.” The truth sat heavy between us. My parents had been gone for years. Killed in a suspicious car accident. That first pushed me into Alexander’s world. He knew better than anyone how alone I was. Alexander frowned. “Let me see that—” My nerves suddenly tightened like piano wires. He never asked to read anything. Normally he’d just sign whatever university paperwork I put in front of him. Without a second glance. Why today? Why now? “Oh Alexander,” Serena laughed. She placed a hand on his arm. “You’re too serious!” “It’s just a form.” “You remember how many forms we had to sign for the charity gala last month?” As the heiress to Stone Enterprises, she was important. One of the Archer family’s most important business partners. Serena had moved effortlessly in Alexander’s world since her return. They were always together now. At galas. At auctions. At those smoky backroom poker games where deals got made. Everywhere Alexander went these days, Serena seemed to appear at his elbow. Her designer dresses complemented his tailored suits. Like they were a matched set. He hesitated. Then grabbed his fountain pen. He signed with a quick flourish. The same way he signed death warrants. And business deals. I took the papers back. Before he could see the bold header on the first page. It read “DIVORCE PETITION.” Serena smirked. “Honestly, Alexander, you treat her more like a kid sister than a wife.” Alexander didn’t deny it. Just took a sip of whiskey. I turned. I walked out. Before they could see my hands shake. The door closed behind me. I was free. Walking through the marble halls of the Archer mansion. I clutched the signed divorce papers in my hand. The ink was barely dry. But the marriage had been over long before today. I remembered how different Alexander used to be. The way his warm hands would trace my spine. When he thought I was asleep. The possessive way he’d pull me into shadowed corners at family gatherings. His mouth hot against mine. Now he barely looked at me. My parents died when I was sixteen. Don Archer took me in. A favor to my father. His former driver. Who’d taken a bullet for him. That’s how I ended up living under the same roof as Alexander Archer. Alexander was everything I shouldn’t want. Cold. Dangerous. Ruthless. By twenty-five, he’d already taken over half his father’s operations. The newspapers called him a “young entrepreneur.” The streets knew better. I kept my distance at first. Made myself invisible. Until that night four years ago. Alexander came home covered in someone else’s blood. He found me in the kitchen. Patching up my own knife wound. A gift from one of his father’s men. Who thought the boss’s charity case made easy prey. Alexander didn’t speak. Just took the bandages from my shaking hands. He cleaned the cut himself. When his thumb brushed my inner thigh, I should have pushed him away. Instead, I pulled him closer. We married three weeks later. A business arrangement, Alexander called it. Protection for me. Legitimacy for him. I almost believed him. Until Serena Stone came back to town. Suddenly his late meetings doubled. Serena. The Stone heiress. Their construction empire worked closely with the Archer family. Since returning after her divorce. And now that her French husband had filed for divorce. She’d become a constant presence. Slipping into Alexander’s meetings. His cars. His life. Last month proved it. I’d waited six hours at Dante’s. The restaurant Alexander owned through a shell company. For our anniversary dinner. His right-hand man Lucas finally showed up at midnight. With a diamond bracelet. And an excuse about “business troubles.” The next morning, I saw the photos in the gossip column. Alexander and Serena at the opera. Her fingers tucked in his tuxedo pocket. Where he usually kept his gun. That’s when I started planning my exit. The divorce papers were my final exam. Alexander signed them without reading. Too distracted by Serena. Feeding him stolen glances. And stolen kisses. Now, standing in the mansion’s gilded foyer. I traced the notary’s embossed seal with my thumb. In a month, this paper would be my ticket to freedom. No more gilded cages. No more pretending. Alexander could keep his empire. His violence. His Serena. I wanted my life back. Chapter 02 Serena claimed her penthouse needed renovations after her return. That’s how she ended up in our guest suite—temporarily, of course. Alexander approved it before I could object. “The Stones have been business partners for decades,” he said, as if that explained everything. Now she floated through our home like she owned it. She lounged by the pool in designer bikinis. She hosted her parties in our wine cellar. She always found reasons to interrupt when Alexander and I were alone. Tonight, I caught them in the study. Their heads were bent over some legal documents. Serena’s long finger traced a line on the paper. It lingered too close to Alexander’s hand. “Chloe!” She smiled when she noticed me. “We’re planning my new home theater. You should join us.” “I have lab reports to grade,” I said, clutching my nightgown. We’re divorced now. Whatever Alexander does. Whoever he’s with. It’s none of my business. Serena’s laugh tinkled like broken glass. “Always buried in your books! Alexander used to do my math homework when we were kids – you tutored me yourself, didn’t you Alexander? My math skills are all thanks to you.” Alexander chuckled lightly. “Math was simpler than laundering casino profits.” His eyes flicked briefly to me, a silent check for reaction. I kept my face carefully blank. I stared at my feet. How touching. Their childhood bond was still going strong after all these years. I’d just be here, counting the days until I could escape this charming reunion. By midnight, I was reviewing lab data when Alexander entered our bedroom. The scent of whiskey and Serena’s cloying perfume clung to his shirt. He sat beside me on the bed. “Still working?” His fingers brushed my shoulder. I stiffened instinctively. Yet when his hand slid down my spine, I arched into his touch. I was like a starving woman offered crumbs. Pathetic. Some rational part of my brain whispered. But four years of loneliness had carved a hollow space inside me. Only Alexander could temporarily fill it. Even if he’d never stay. His lips found my neck. He unbuttoned the front of my nightgown. I closed my eyes. I let myself forget— —until my stomach turned violently. “Chloe?” Alexander froze as I clapped a hand over my mouth. The queasy feeling disappeared as fast as it hit me. “Just…ate something odd at the lab today,” I offered weakly. The birth control pills I took religiously made pregnancy impossible. But my stomach seemed to rebel. The thought of Serena sleeping right beneath us while Alexander touched me was too much. Just then, a crash came from downstairs. “Alexander?” Serena’s voice floated up the staircase. It was trembling. “I heard glass breaking… I think someone’s in the house.” I felt Alexander’s body tense. Duty called. He was out of bed before I could speak. He grabbed the pistol from his nightstand. “Stay here,” he ordered. He was already halfway to the door. It turned out to be nothing. Just the housekeeper dropping a plate. But when Alexander returned hours later, he went straight to the shower. He did so without a word. I pretended to be asleep. The next morning, I nearly choked on my coffee. I saw Alexander flipping through my research institute application forms. The ones I’d stupidly left on the kitchen counter. My stomach tightened. “Biomedical engineering?” He held up the application to the Swiss institute. His brow was arched. ” When did you arrange this overseas project?” I forced a shrug. “My classmate asked me to grab the forms for her.” My fingers curled into my palms. Out of sight, out of mind. But not before I caught the faint tremor in my pinky finger. Damn it. Alexander turned a page. He scanned the details. “Zurich. You’d hate the snow.” Of course he didn’t remember. Two winters ago, I’d dragged him to a cabin in Vermont just to watch the flakes fall. He’d spent the whole time on the phone with his lawyers. I didn’t respond. I just looked at him coldly. He set down his coffee. His dark eyes locked onto mine. The intensity was unsettling. “You don’t need another degree. I could appoint you lead researcher at Archer Medical tomorrow.” That’s the problem. Every achievement I had. Every paper. Every grant. All were shadowed by the Archer name. I opened my mouth to retort. Serena’s laughter cut through the tension. “Morning, darlings!” She breezed in. Her silk robe fluttered as she perched on the arm of Alexander’s chair. “Alexander, the lawyers need us to review the new casino contracts before noon.” Her slender fingers brushed against Alexander’s shoulder. It was a familiar gesture. Alexander stood up. He didn't give another glance at my applications. “We’ll take it in the study.” As they disappeared down the hall, I yanked the forms back. My hand steadied as I reached the section. The section on Marital Status. Single. Chapter 03 The research fellowship in Switzerland would last for four years. The director had emailed twice already, eager for me to start by fall. Four years abroad. Far from Alexander. Far from Serena. I sent “Accept” before I could overthink it. Last night played on repeat in my mind. I’d actually considered—just one last time—initiating something with Alexander. A final memory to take with me. But he’d spent the evening with Serena, probably whispering sweet nothings under the moon. That’s the difference between love and…whatever this is. What I couldn’t understand was how a man could feign desire so convincingly for someone he didn’t love. To prevent a repeat of last night’s humiliation, I decided to clear out my things today. Three weeks until the divorce was finalized. Three weeks of avoiding this house. Most of my life was already at campus housing—just one suitcase of clothes here. The only personal item was the photo album in the nightstand. I flipped through the thick leather cover. Every month like clockwork, I’d dragged Alexander to a photo studio. Me smiling like an idiot. Him stiff as a statue, looking anywhere but at the camera. The album landed in the trash bin with a thud. Even the recycling truck wouldn’t want this tainted love story. For years, I’d been an audience member in Alexander Archer’s life. Now the curtain had fallen. Time to make my exit. The next two weeks blurred with thesis revisions and lab work. I barely thought of Alexander—until his call interrupted my Friday research meeting. “I’m outside your lab,” his voice crackled through the phone. Since when does Alexander Archer play chauffeur? His black sedan idled at the curb. I slid into the leather seat, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne and gun oil. “You haven’t been home.” His eyes stayed on the road. “Lab’s busy.” “Good.” His fingers tapped the steering wheel. “Serena thought you were avoiding her. She’s moving out next month—says it’s ‘inappropriate’ now.” I yawned. “Tell her not to bother. I don’t care.” Alexander’s grip tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles paling to bone-white. A flicker of surprise crossed his face. He opened his mouth—probably to praise my “maturity”—but stopped when he noticed my closed eyes. I feigned sleep to avoid conversation, but the exhaustion was real. For the first time in years, my dreams weren’t about him. Ten days until Zurich. I stood in the supermarket aisle, staring at the dried hawthorn slices in my hand. I hadn’t eaten these since childhood, but lately my stomach churned at everything else. My recent period had also been delayed. The pregnancy test confirmed my fears. “twelve weeks along,” the doctor said cheerfully. “Congratulations!” I nearly laughed. Twelve weeks. That meant it happened during Alexander’s and my last time together—right before Serena returned. My hands shook as I dialed Alexander’s number. At twenty-four, facing this alone terrified me— A familiar ringtone echoed down the hallway. Alexander stood twenty feet away, his black coat draped over Serena’s shoulders as she whispered something that made him smile. I hung up and ducked into the stairwell. “—avoid strenuous activity,” the doctor’s voice carried through the cracked door. “And no intercourse for two months.” Serena was pregnant too. “I’ll make sure she rests,” Alexander said, that tender tone I rarely heard. I shot out of the stairwell like a bullet, desperate to escape, only to crash straight into a nurse carrying medical charts. The papers went flying as we collided, creating just enough noise to draw attention from down the hall. Alexander emerged from the examination room just in time to see me scrambling to help pick up the scattered documents, my face burning with the effort to appear composed. “Chloe?” He frowned, stepping forward. “Why are you here?” “Stomachache.” I crumpled the ultrasound slip in my pocket. Serena materialized beside him, clutching her own scan. “Alexander told me you skip meals.” She patted his arm. “We should get her some ginger tea.” I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the ultrasound photo in Serena’s hand. The grainy black-and-white image seemed to pulse under the harsh hospital lights. Alexander’s face went pale. “Chloe, let me expl—” “Alexander!” Serena’s fingers dug into his sleeve like claws, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “We talked about this.” I saw the conflict play out across his face, the way his muscles tensed, how his hand twitched before curling into a fist. Then Serena pressed her cheek against his shoulder, whispering something that made him freeze. His arm dropped to his side like a dead weight. I turned away before they could see my face crumple. Behind me, I heard Alexander take a half-step forward— “Alexander!” Serena’s voice turned sharp. “You promised.” The elevator doors closed on the image of my husband standing frozen between two women, his eyes locked on me with something that almost looked like regret. Outside, winter air slapped my face. The research acceptance letter lay buried at the bottom of my backpack. Four years. A groundbreaking study. A life far from this mess. And now—a baby. My hand rested on my stomach—still flat, but everything had changed. The sidewalk stretched endlessly in both directions. For the first time in my life, I had nowhere to go.

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