My Sober Divorce Will Be His Lifetime Hangover

Rianne’s POV

It was just a moment of recklessness, nothing more, that led to that forbidden night.

But standing there, I felt like I’d forgotten how to breathe until I realized I’d bit down hard on my lip.

After what felt like forever, I finally forced the words out, swallowing the pain in my chest.

“I forgive you, Nigel.”

What he didn’t know was—I’d only ever forgive him once.

So when I ran into him today, I knew—our marriage was over.

Once I’d gathered myself, I headed straight to the law firm and drafted the divorce agreement myself.

By the time I got home, the sun was already setting. Nigel rushed to the door, his arms wrapping around me like nothing had happened.

“Honey, where were you? I called you so many times, but you didn’t pick up.”

As he leaned in, a sharp, heavy scent hit me—strong perfume.

It was Black Opium, the one I hated most.

I gently pulled away and said, keeping my tone light, “It’s nothing. I just stopped by the law office.”

He frowned. “Next time just have Renz go for you. No need to trouble yourself with something so small—”

I cut in, “Nigel. I want a divorce.”

He froze, staring at me like he didn’t understand the words.

“What did you say? You want to divorce me?” he repeated.

“All this because of something so minor? I told you—it was an accident. It didn’t mean anything. Harley’s the one insisting on having the baby. I figured, since you can’t conceive, we could raise the child together. Once the baby’s born, I’ll bring him home for you. Then I’ll send Harley abroad. It won’t change anything.”

The moment he said I should raise his child with another woman, my chest tightened.

My hand instinctively moved to my lower belly as I replied, “I’m not joking, Nigel. This is the divorce agreement. Take a look.”

His face turned cold.

“Come on, Rianne, are you really throwing a fit over this? I’ve already explained everything, haven’t I? Honey, nothing will change. We have a child now—isn’t that what we always wanted?”

He stared at me for a moment, and then he heaved a sigh. “I’m exhausted, honey. Can you stop being unreasonable?”

I almost laughed.

‘He cheats, and somehow I’m the one being unreasonable? Wow.’

I shook my head and placed the papers in front of him.

“Nope. It’s not fine,” I said firmly. “I feel dirty, Nigel.”

That one word lit a fire in him.

“Dirty? Do you even realize how many women would kill for a night with me? God damn it, it was just once! Why can’t you let it go?”

As he spoke, he ripped the divorce papers into pieces.

“I’m telling you—I won’t agree to a divorce. Never!”

“And look at yourself, Rianne. You’re thirty now. You’re not some young girl anymore. Who else would even want you besides me, huh?”

“Let’s pretend this never happened. And I don’t want to hear another word about it, you understand?”

He stormed out, slamming the door behind him, while I knelt, picking up the torn pieces from the floor.

Just as I finished, my phone buzzed.

It was a message—two pictures of engagement rings and a question about my preference.

I glanced at them and replied. [The one on the left.]

Then, without a second thought, I took off the wedding ring I’d worn for seven years and dropped it in the trash.

The next morning, I wrapped up my last tasks at the office. I was just about to leave when my assistant Ron Harvin came running in, saying a client had asked to see me.

He led me to a private lounge.

As soon as I opened the door, I saw Nigel standing in the center of the room, holding a huge bouquet of roses.

The room was full of familiar faces—even his mother, who’d never liked me, was there.

He took a step forward, knelt in front of me, and looked up with guilt written all over his face.

“Honey… I’m so sorry. I lost it and said all the wrong things. Today is our seventh wedding anniversary. Please… give me another chance.”