He Broke Me Into Pieces—So I Took Myself Back

“If you refuse to let her go, then let’s just end this with a divorce.”

The moment those words left my mouth, the room seemed to tighten around us, like even the air had gone still.

Nathaniel stared at me in silence for a beat, then blinked repeatedly as if he was trying to confirm he had heard me correctly. A short, disbelieving laugh slipped out of him soon after, sharp with mockery.

“You’re not serious,” he said, shaking his head with an almost amused disbelief, like I had said something ridiculous. “Divorce? Over this? Because you’re jealous? Amara, take a good look at yourself. You’re unwell right now. You’re emotional and exhausted, and you’re letting insecurity destroy everything we’ve worked for.”

Raven immediately stepped closer, folding her hands in front of her as though she had been rehearsing the gesture. Her eyes widened dramatically, glistening with tears that never quite fell.

“Mrs. Amara… please,” she said in a trembling voice. “Is this because of me? I swear I never wanted to ruin anything between you and Mr. Nathaniel. I was only trying to help him because he’s been so stressed. I would never try to come between a married couple. Please don’t decide something so serious because of me.”

She turned toward Nathaniel after that, her expression softening into practiced fragility, as if she were the one being wronged.

“It isn’t his fault,” she added gently. “He works so hard for you… for the family. We’re not—”

“I don’t care anymore,” I interrupted.

My voice came out flat, stripped of feeling. “If you want him that badly, you can have him. I’m divorcing him.”

All color drained from Nathaniel’s face. “Amara, enough. You’re going too far—”

“What is going on here?”

The voice cut through the tension like a sudden strike of thunder.

We all turned.

At the doorway stood Julian, Nathaniel’s grandfather, holding onto his cane yet still commanding the entire room with his presence. His expression alone made it clear he had heard enough.

“Why am I hearing talk about divorce from my favorite daughter-in-law?” he demanded sharply.

Nathaniel straightened immediately, the arrogance that had filled him moments earlier vanishing in an instant, replaced by something closer to panic.

“Grandfather,” he said quickly. “It’s not what it sounds like. Amara isn’t feeling well—she’s had dengue fever. She’s confused.”

“Confused?” Julian stepped forward, his gaze landing on me at once. He reached out and held my hand, his touch surprisingly gentle as he studied my face. “Nathaniel, she looks like she can barely stand. Why isn’t she resting in bed? Why is she here? And why are you speaking to her like this instead of taking care of your wife?”

“I am taking care of her,” Nathaniel insisted too quickly. “I was just—”

“He’s been busy,” I said, cutting across him without looking his way. My eyes stayed on Julian instead. “Too busy, Grandpa. Five days in the hospital and he never once came. He didn’t even answer my calls.”

“That’s not true,” Nathaniel snapped, panic slipping into his tone as sweat formed along his temple. “I was working. The merger is critical, Grandfather. I was handling everything for the family, for all of us. I was planning to visit her today.”

He stepped closer to me, suddenly switching his tone into something softer, performative.

“Amara, baby, tell him,” he urged. “I told you I’d make it up to you. I’ll take care of you properly now. I’ll fix everything—just don’t say things like that.”

Julian struck his cane hard against the floor, the sound echoing sharply.

“Fix it?” the old man said grimly. “You should already be fixing your responsibilities. I will not tolerate divorce in this family. Do you understand me? Now stop this nonsense. We’re having dinner. We need to discuss the company, and clearly you’ve lost your sense of direction.”

Nathaniel nodded immediately. “Yes, Grandfather. Of course. Dinner.”

He motioned for me to follow him out.

I didn’t move.

Behind him, Raven shifted nervously, then quickly composed herself and tried to fall into step as they walked.

“Why are you following?” I asked suddenly.

She hesitated. “I always attend these dinners,” she answered softly. “I take notes, assist with discussions… it’s part of my role.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I said. “He doesn’t need assistance. He needs his wife there.”

“But the merger documents—” she began weakly. “Mr. Nathaniel might need—”

“I said no.”

Then I turned to Nathaniel. “Do you want her there?”

The question hung between us, deliberate and sharp.

He froze.

His eyes flicked from Raven, to his grandfather watching closely, then back to me. After a long, heavy pause that revealed more than any answer could, he exhaled.

“No, Raven,” he finally said, avoiding her gaze. “Go home. I’ll handle this.”

Raven’s face tightened as though she had been struck. She looked at him in disbelief, then at me with quiet fury, but there was nothing left for her to do.

“Yes… sir,” she muttered.

A faint smile curved on my lips.

Dinner at the Voss estate felt suffocating in its own quiet way. The long table stretched between us like a barrier, the only sounds coming from cutlery against porcelain and Julian’s steady questioning about business performance.

Nathaniel barely sat still. His attention kept slipping away, his leg shifting repeatedly under the table.

His phone was vibrating.

I could see the faint glow beneath the tablecloth each time it lit up.

Raven.

She was likely flooding him with messages—anger, pleading, maybe even tears. The thought barely surprised me anymore.

“Nathaniel!”

Julian’s voice snapped through the room.

Nathaniel jolted so suddenly his wine glass almost tipped over. “Yes, Grandfather?”

“I asked about the Singapore expansion logistics,” Julian said firmly. “You weren’t listening. What exactly is so important under the table?”

“Nothing,” Nathaniel answered quickly, sliding his phone deeper into his pocket. “Just investor emails.”

Julian exhaled in frustration. “All this talk about business, yet you can’t even focus. What about the heir?”

The words dropped heavily into the room.

My hand paused mid-air, fork suspended.

“You’ve been married for five years,” Julian continued, unaware of the tension tightening around me. “I am not getting any younger. This empire needs continuity.”

Nathaniel cleared his throat and suddenly placed his hand over mine, his palm damp.

“We’re working on it,” he said with a forced smile. “We’ll try again soon, right, honey? When Amara is ready.”

Try again.

The phrase echoed in my mind like something broken repeating itself.

As if he hadn’t destroyed me the year before, when I lost our baby alone while he claimed he was at a conference—only for me to later learn Raven had been there too. As if that pain was something disposable, something he could casually retry.

He wasn’t asking for a child.

He was asking for inheritance.

I looked at him then, really looked, and what I saw wasn’t love or concern—only calculation.

Still, I smiled.

It was effortless, almost frightening how easily it came.

“Of course,” I said softly. “We can try again, Grandpa. For the heir.”

Julian nodded with approval. “Good. You should. The trust requires a direct heir before thirty. Time is not on your side.”

Nathaniel squeezed my hand under the table, firm and warning.

“We won’t fail you,” he said smoothly. “We’ll give you good news by our sixth anniversary.”

But I already knew there would be no sixth anniversary.

Because in five days, I would be gone.