Prepare the Divorce and Ruin My Husband

I lifted my head a little. The first snow of the year was falling, quiet and soft, landing on my hair, my shoulders.

The snow came down harder, blinding. I could barely keep my eyes open. Then everything went black. The last thing I heard was someone shouting.

“Mr. Vanderbilt, she passed out!”

David didn’t even look over. “Wake her up. She’s not done kneeling.”

I jolted when ice water was thrown on my face. It stole the air from my lungs. I gasped and coughed until my chest burned.

Inside the ward, Roxanne was clinging to David, crying like the world had ended.

“The babies… they’re gone,” she whispered. “I lost them.”

David held her, his hand gentle in her hair, “It’s okay. We can have more. I won’t let this be for nothing.”

She touched her stomach and broke down harder. “I have nothing left. No title, no child, no place. What’s the point of me even living? Maybe I should just end it.”

“Don’t talk like that,” he said sharply.

She pulled back and looked at him through her tears. “David… can I take her place? Can you make me your wife instead? Just leave Isabella. I’m tired of being called the other woman because of her.”

I heard the pause. Thick. Heavy.

Then the door opened again.

“Sir,” the bodyguard said nervously. She collapsed again. She’s not responding.”

David finally walked out. He looked down at me lying in the snow. My skin was white, my lips blue, my dress soaked and sticking to my body. I must have looked dead already.

“Call a doctor,” he ordered. “Now. Just make sure she doesn’t die.”

That was all.

Even like this, I was still only something to punish, not someone to protect. All those years I spent loving him, believing in him, had turned me weak and foolish.

…

I woke up because something cold hit my arm. A sharp sting. I gasped and tried to move, but my body felt heavy like I was waking up from a bad dream that would not end.

“Mr. Vanderbilt! She’s awake.”

That was when I realized I was not in a hospital.

I was on a yacht.

The floor beneath me swayed gently. The sound of water surrounded us. When my vision cleared, I saw them. All of them. David stood near the railing, face stiff. Roxanne was wrapped in layers, leaning against him like she could collapse any second. My parents were there too, standing close, their faces tight with anger.

And then I saw my son.

Ryle was kneeling beside me.

His small hands were shaking as he clung to my sleeve. His eyes were red and swollen from crying. He kept bowing his head again and again.

“I’m sorry,” he kept saying in a tiny voice. “I’ll be good. I won’t be bad anymore. Please don’t hurt my mom. Please.”

My heart cracked open.

I tried to sit up, but before I could say his name, my mother stepped forward and slapped me hard across the face. My head snapped to the side. I tasted blood.

“You evil thing,” she screamed. “You killed your sister’s babies!”

My father followed. His fist came down on my shoulder, then my back. I curled up instinctively, arms over my head, hearing nothing but my own breath and Ryle crying.

“How could you do this to Roxanne?!” my mother shouted again. “You were always jealous! Always cruel.”

Roxanne sobbed loudly, clinging to David. “Please stop,” she cried, shaking. “I don’t want her punished like this. I just wanted peace. I just wanted my babies back.” She cried so hard she could barely stand.

David raised his hand. “Enough.”

They finally stepped back.

Someone shoved a small urn into my trembling hands. It was cold. Too light.

“Do it,” David said. “Scatter the ashes. Apologize properly.”

The wind was strong as I was dragged to the edge. My hands shook so badly I almost dropped it right away. I could barely stand. My legs felt like they might give out.

Roxanne stepped closer, crying softly. “Isabella, please. Let my babies rest.”

The urn slipped from my hands.

Silence.

Then screaming.

“You useless monster!” my mother shrieked.

Before I could react, my father grabbed Ryle.

“Go get it!” he yelled.

He threw my son over the railing. I screamed his name. My body moved before my mind could catch up. I ran. I did not think. I did not breathe. I jumped.

The water was freezing. It swallowed me whole.

I saw Ryle for a second. His small body was sinking. His arms flailed.

"Mom!"

"Ryle!"

I kicked. I reached. My lungs burned. My arms felt weak. The waves pulled us apart.

“Send a boat!” David ordered. His voice cut clean through the wind. “Get both of them out.”

I was barely holding Ryle. My arms felt like they were tearing. Every wave dragged us down again. I kicked because I had to. Because if I stopped, he would sink.

Another voice yelled back, “Sir, Roxanne collapsed!”

I heard her scream my name. Weak. Fragile. Perfect.

David swore. Footsteps rushed. Someone shouted that the helicopter was ready, blades already roaring above us.

“Take her to the hospital now,” he said, fast and sharp. “She can’t lose consciousness out here.”

I wanted to laugh. I wanted to scream.

Before he left, he turned back to the sea.

“Keep searching,” he told his men. “They’re not dead. Isabella swims well. The kid too. They’re probably trying to run. Trying to get away from me.”

Run? Me?

I could barely breathe.

Water burned my throat. My arms shook so hard I thought they would snap. Ryle coughed, small hands clawing at my neck.

“It’s okay,” I tried to say, but it came out as bubbles. “Mom’s here.”

The waves did not care.

Above us, the helicopter lifted, carrying Roxanne away like she was made of glass. Below, the sea pulled us down like we were nothing.