His Signature on My Freedom

"Which project was in that stack of contracts you had me sign yesterday?"

I looked up, my gaze drifting to the faint red mark on his neck.

For a moment, sorrow flickered in my eyes before I stamped it out, my expression going flat and calm.

"You didn't ask when you were signing it. Why now?" I countered.

"It just occurred to me. Besides, you're my wife. You wouldn't hurt me, would you?" Grayson replied confidently.

He sounded unconcerned.

I dropped my gaze to hide the sting in my eyes.

"Aren't you afraid it was our divorce agreement? Or a property settlement?"

At my words, something in his chest seemed to clench.

He frowned, a flash of panic and displeasure crossing his handsome face.

"Rachel, that's not funny."

He stepped closer, cupping my face. His thumb brushed my lower lip, his voice a calculated, possessive purr. "You know I'd go crazy if you left me, Rachel."

"If I had to choose, I'd rather you take half my assets."

Grayson looked at me, his eyes shimmering with what he probably thought was deep, undeniable affection.

I knew it was true he couldn't leave me, just as it was true that his feelings were a toxic cocktail of attachment and control.

Which was why my "joke" was also true.

What I’d had him sign was a divorce agreement drafted by one of New York's top lawyers. Once the court processed it, everything would be over.

I had chased him for five years and been his secret wife for three.

And just like that, our story was over.

That afternoon, I walked straight into the human resources office at the firm and handed in my resignation.

The HR manager, David Chen, glanced up. Recognition, then surprise, flickered across his face.

"Are you sure about this, Rachel?"

"You've been with Mr. Vaughn longer than anyone. You're the heart of the design team. Seriously, we all say you'd be the last one standing if this place ever went under."

"Why so suddenly…"

He trailed off. I lowered my eyes. To avoid any whispers of nepotism, I had always used my maiden name, Rachel Hayes, at work. No one knew I was the real Mrs. Vaughn.

Before yesterday, I would have believed it too. That I would never leave.

This firm was something Grayson and I had built from the ground up.

He handled the investments; I handled the designs.

We’d worked side-by-side, struggled together.

When our first co-designed project won an AIA award, Grayson used the prize money to take me to a Michelin-starred restaurant overlooking Central Park.

That night, sitting by the floor-to-ceiling windows, the lights of Manhattan glittering below, he’d held me close. He’d said that having me by his side was the best thing that ever happened to him.

A sad smile touched my lips.

"It's a personal decision, and my mind is made up."

The HR manager looked at me, his eyes full of regret.

"Well, since your mind is made up, I wish you all the best."

I thanked him quietly and walked out.

Just as I returned to my desk, my phone lit up.

I glanced down to see an Instagram Story notification. Sienna had tagged me.

The photo was of her slender wrist, a new Cartier bracelet sparkling on it. In the background, a corner of Grayson’s office was visible.

The caption read: An unexpected surprise is the best cure for a bad mood. A winking emoji followed, a digital jab aimed right at me.

This was not the first time.