My Ex-Husband Begged for Mercy

"Divorce me," I repeated, forcing the words out despite the tremor in my voice. "Please... just let me leave. Let me take my brother with me, and we'll disappear. You'll never have to see either of us again."

Damien studied me for a long moment. The ice cubes in his whiskey shifted with a faint clink before he suddenly burst into laughter.

"A divorce?" he mocked, taking slow steps toward me until I could smell the rich whiskey on his breath. "Tell me, Vivian, do you honestly believe you could survive without me? You? The woman who spent years clinging to me after your parents died?"

He reached up and gently brushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

The gesture should have felt tender.

Instead, it made every inch of my skin recoil.

"You have absolutely nothing," he murmured. "No income of your own. No family except your criminal brother. No profession. You abandoned your entire future because of me. So tell me... where exactly do you think you'll go? And who would possibly want a damaged woman who can't even give them children?"

I closed my eyes tightly, refusing to look at the satisfaction written across his face.

How had everything fallen apart so completely?

There had been a time when none of this existed.

Once upon a time, I hadn't been the one chasing Damien.

He had chased me.

We first met in high school.

Our fathers were business partners, working side by side to build what eventually became the Bennett empire. I was quiet, happiest with books and sketchpads, dreaming about attending art school someday. Damien, meanwhile, was the school's golden child—the charismatic heir everyone admired.

At first, I wasn't interested in him at all.

Back then, my heart already belonged to someone else.

His name was Adrian, a kind and gentle boy whose quiet smile had captured my attention long before Damien ever noticed me.

But Damien refused to accept that.

He pursued me with relentless determination that bordered on obsession. Every morning brought fresh flowers. Every week came another elaborate romantic gesture. He charmed everyone around me—my classmates, my friends, even my parents.

Then my father became seriously ill.

While everyone else slowly drifted away, Damien remained.

He spent long hours sitting beside my father's hospital bed. He comforted my mother. He reassured me again and again that I wouldn't have to face the future alone.

I still remembered the night he proposed.

Rain poured from the sky outside my college dormitory as he knelt on the soaked pavement, refusing to stand despite the storm.

"Marry me, Kat," he pleaded. "I'll give you everything you've ever dreamed of. I'll love you enough to make up for every hurt you've ever suffered."

Eventually...

I believed him.

I gave him my whole heart.

The first five years of our marriage felt almost magical.

He was attentive, affectionate, endlessly passionate. Even his possessiveness seemed comforting back then, something that made me feel protected instead of controlled. Everywhere we went, people admired us. We became the city's perfect couple—the successful businessman and his elegant wife.

Without even noticing it, I let go of my own dreams.

Art disappeared from my life.

Adrian became nothing more than a distant memory.

I devoted myself entirely to becoming Mrs. Damien Bennett.

Then Vanessa returned.

Vanessa.

His childhood friend.

His trusted secretary.

She came back from overseas several months earlier looking for work, and Damien hired her almost immediately.

"She's practically family," he'd told me with an easy smile. "She needs someone to give her a chance."

At first, it seemed harmless.

He stayed later at the office.

Then he started missing dinners.

Soon afterward, I began noticing her perfume lingering on his suits—a heavy floral fragrance so sweet it turned my stomach.

Gradually, he stopped reaching for me.

He stopped looking at me the way he once had.

When I told him I was pregnant, there wasn't even a flicker of excitement in his eyes.

Instead, the first thing he asked was whether the pregnancy would interfere with our appearances during gala season.

Looking back now, I realized our marriage hadn't collapsed overnight.

It had been rotting beneath the surface for a long time.

"Look at me."

Damien's voice pulled me back to the present.

Slowly, I opened my eyes.

He was still smiling.

Not with warmth.

With the cold satisfaction of a predator certain his prey had nowhere left to run.

"You don't truly want a divorce," he said calmly. "You're emotional. You're grieving the baby, and you're upset about Ethan. You're letting your emotions cloud your judgment."

"For the first time in years, my mind is perfectly clear," I answered quietly.

Then every ounce of pain inside me erupted.

"You murdered our baby!"

"Enough!"

His hands clamped down on my shoulders.

He shook me so violently my head snapped backward.

"You are not divorcing me," he growled, his face only inches from mine. "Do you understand? You're a Bennett now. You belong to me. If you dare file those papers or try to leave me, I'll make sure your precious brother never walks free again. I'll bury him beneath enough criminal charges and lawsuits that he'll spend the rest of his life behind bars."

The air vanished from my lungs.

"You wouldn't go that far," I whispered.

A cruel smile spread across his face.

"Go ahead and test me," he hissed. "The judges answer to me. The police answer to me. This city bends when I tell it to. And so do you."

Tears spilled freely down my cheeks.

There was no escape.

No allies.

No way out.

Every direction led back to him.

My voice barely existed when I spoke again.

"Tell me the truth," I whispered. "Do you love me at all anymore? Did you ever?"

His expression softened almost instantly.

It was practiced.

Calculated.

Another carefully chosen mask.

He brushed away a tear with his thumb.

"Of course I love you," he said smoothly.

The lie came effortlessly.

"Everything I've done has been for our future, Vivian. You only need to stop making life so difficult. Be the loving wife I married. Stop questioning me. Stop inventing accusations."

He leaned forward, intending to kiss me.

I turned my face aside.

His lips brushed my jaw instead.

He exhaled in irritation but didn't try again.

Just then, his phone buzzed inside his pocket.

He pulled it out.

I caught a glimpse of the screen.

Vanessa.

He didn't even bother hiding her name anymore.

His eyes met mine briefly before returning to the phone.

"I have to answer this," he said casually. "It's work."

"Work?" I echoed numbly. "At ten at night?"

He smiled faintly.

"Business doesn't stop just because it's late, darling."

He was already walking toward the door as he accepted the call.

The warmth in his voice returned immediately—the same warmth that had disappeared from our marriage months earlier.

"Hey," he said gently into the phone. "Yeah, I'm on my way. No, she's okay. Just another hysterical episode."

He paused before leaving and glanced back at me.

I stood frozen in the center of the room, trembling from head to toe.

"If you behave yourself," he said, every trace of warmth disappearing once more, "if you stop talking about murder and divorce, I'll make a few phone calls. Maybe I'll arrange for Ethan to get released on bail. Understand?"

I couldn't answer.

The words refused to come.

He interpreted my silence however he pleased.

"Good."

He gave a satisfied nod.

"I'll be home late. Don't bother waiting."

A moment later, the front door slammed shut.

From inside the silent house, I listened as his car engine roared to life before fading into the distance.

He was going to her.

The strength drained from my body.

My knees buckled beneath me, and I collapsed onto the hardwood floor.

Burying my face in both hands, I screamed.

The sound echoed through the empty mansion, carrying every ounce of grief, betrayal, and helplessness I had left.

I remained there for what felt like forever.

Nearly an hour passed before the sobbing finally stopped.

There were no tears left to cry.

And crying wasn't going to save Ethan.

Slowly, I crawled toward the end table beside the sofa and reached for my phone.

My hands shook so violently that it took several attempts before I could unlock the screen.

Weeks earlier, when my suspicions about Damien had first begun, I had quietly saved the number of a divorce attorney.

Attorney Foster.

Specialist in family law.

I pressed the call button.

One ring.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Finally, someone answered.

"Hello. You've reached the answering service for—"

"I need Mr. Foster," I interrupted desperately. "Please. This is an emergency."

After a brief pause, another voice came onto the line, thick with sleep.

"Foster speaking."

"Mr. Foster." I gripped the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. "My name is Vivian Bennett. I need to file for divorce immediately. I also want a restraining order, and I want legal protection over every asset that's rightfully mine."

Silence greeted my words.

Then his tone changed completely.

"Mrs... Bennett?" he asked carefully. "You mean Damien Bennett's wife?"

"Yes."

"I understand."

He cleared his throat.

"I'm honored that you thought of me. But I'm afraid I can't represent you."

I felt my stomach drop.

"What?" I breathed. "Why not? Everyone says you're the best divorce attorney in the city."

"That's exactly the problem," he replied quietly. "Being one of the best means I understand precisely what taking your case would cost. Damien Bennett is one of the firm's biggest financial supporters. He's an extremely influential man. No attorney in this city is willing to go against him in court. Taking your case would end a career."

"Please," I begged, tears threatening again. "He's abusing me. He framed my brother for a crime he didn't commit. I have nowhere else to turn."

There was genuine sympathy in his voice when he answered.

"I'm truly sorry, Mrs. Bennett. I wish I could help. If I can offer any advice, it would be to reconcile if that's possible... or leave the state entirely. But if you're asking whether anyone here will fight Damien Bennett through the legal system..."

He hesitated.

"...you're going to have to face that battle alone."

The call disconnected.

The line went silent.