No, Ex-Husband, You Already Lost Me

When the guards finally dragged me back upstairs the next morning, I didn’t fight. I didn’t scream. I just walked into his study, placed my hands on his desk, and said the words that had been building in my chest for days.

“I want a divorce.”

Lewis didn’t even look up from his paperwork. He just sighed, a sound of mild annoyance, like I had asked for a different color of curtains.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Beatrice.”

“I’m not being ridiculous,” I said, my voice shaking but firm. “You took my baby. You gave my mother’s jewelry to my sister. You locked me in a basement while you paraded her around as the mistress of this house. There is nothing left here for me.”

He finally looked up. His eyes were hard, devoid of any warmth.

“There is plenty left here for you. You are Mrs. Lewis Langford. You have a reputation to uphold.”

“Reputation?” I laughed, a hollow, broken sound. “You destroyed my reputation last night! You called me a thief in front of your guards!”

“And you proved me right by trying to pawn family heirlooms,” he countered smoothly. “But that’s internal. To the world, we are the golden couple. The envy of the city. I will not have a scandalous divorce ruining my stock prices just because you’re feeling emotional.”

He stood up and walked around the desk, leaning against the edge, crossing his arms.

“Besides, people are already talking. They saw your little outburst at the gate. Rumors are spreading that you’re jealous of your own twin sister’s return. That you’re unstable.”

“I am not unstable!” I cried. “I just lost a child!”

“Exactly,” Lewis said, pointing a finger at me. “And that is why you will attend the charity gala tonight. You will wear the dress I picked out. You will smile. You will play the grieving but supportive wife. And you will show everyone how happy you are that your dear sister Celina is back.”

“I won’t do it,” I whispered.

Lewis stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper.

“You will, because where would you go without me when you have nothing?”

My blood ran cold. He knew exactly where to hit.

“Fine,” I choked out. “I’ll go.”

The gala was a blur of flashing lights and fake smiles.

I wore a black velvet gown, high-necked and long-sleeved, hiding the bruises on my arms. I stood by Lewis’s side, a silent statue of grief, while he charmed investors and accepted condolences for our “loss.”

“My poor wife,” he would say, squeezing my hand just a little too hard. “She’s devastated, of course. But having her sister back has been such a blessing.”

And there she was.

Celina.

She was wearing my emerald necklace. The one Lewis had ripped from my hands. It glittered against her pale skin, a mockery of everything I had lost.

She floated through the room, charming everyone, playing the part of the miraculous survivor.

“Oh, Beatrice is so strong,” I heard her telling a group of socialites. “I’m just here to support her. Lewis has been such a rock for both of us.”

She winked at me from across the room. A small, triumphant smirk that only I could see.

I felt sick. I excused myself to the restroom, splashing cold water on my face. When I came back out, I looked for Lewis to tell him I was ready to leave.

I found them on the balcony.

They were in the shadows, away from the crowd. Lewis had his back to me, but I could see Celina clearly. Her arms were wrapped around his neck. She was whispering something in his ear, and he was laughing—a genuine, warm laugh I hadn’t heard in years.

Then he leaned in.

And kissed her.

It wasn’t a friendly peck. It was deep. Passionate. Possessive.

I stood there, frozen. My husband. My sister.

The next morning, I woke up to the sound of hammering.

I dragged myself out of bed and followed the noise down the hall. It was coming from the room we had prepared for the baby. The nursery.

The door was open.

Workmen were carrying out the crib. The rocking chair. The soft yellow wallpaper with the little ducks was being stripped away.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice trembling.

Celina stepped out of the room, wearing a silk robe—my silk robe. She smiled brightly.

“Oh, good morning, sleepyhead! Lewis thought it was too painful for you to see the nursery every day when there's no child. So he suggested we turn it into my suite! Since I’ll be staying for a while.”

She gestured to the workers.

“Be careful with that vanity! It’s vintage!”

She turned back to me, her eyes wide and innocent.

“You don’t mind, do you, Beatrice? I mean, you’re not using it anymore. And Lewis said you needed to move on.”

Move on.

My baby wasn’t even cold in the ground, and they were erasing him. Erasing me.

“No,” I said softly. “I don’t mind. Take it all.”

I turned and walked back to my room. I closed the door and locked it.

I sat on the edge of the bed and pulled my phone from under the mattress. My hands were shaking as I opened my messages.

There was one unread notification.

Sender: Madame V

Message: The contract is ready. The client has agreed to your terms. He requires a wife who is discreet, obedient, and has nothing left to lose. Are you ready to disappear, Mrs. Langford?