She Got the Chicken Soup, I Served the Divorce

Julia's POV

“I didn’t know what to wear,” Camille giggled. “So he brought over every new dress from the collection for me to choose from.”

After our daughter arrived, I struggled to hold myself together. Adrian’s office was sleek and spacious. One day, I gently asked if I could leave Lila’s bottle and warmer there, just for convenience. He snapped.

“This is a workplace, not a nursery!”

Turns out, some so-called principles were flexible after all.

Now, his office looked more like a boutique than a boardroom. Mannequins lined the far wall, each one dressed in high-end evening gowns from the latest designer line. Hangers draped with sequins and silk peeked out from behind his leather chair. Fabric swatches lay across the desk, like this was some fitting room, not the CEO’s office.

Ignoring them, I took a breath and stepped further into the space, heels clicking softly as I made my way to Adrian’s desk.

I pulled the divorce agreement from my bag and placed it in front of him.

“Adrian, this is the divorce agreement. I’ve already signed it.”

He paused, staring down at the papers.

Adrian’s brow furrowed. “Take it away. I’m not signing—”

Suddenly, Camille gasped sharply. “Oh no! This isn’t happening!”

She clutched the hem of her dress, lifting it with trembling hands. A clear, dirty shoe print marred its pale fabric.

“Adrian, this was the last gown my mom designed before she passed.”

Tears poured down her cheeks.

Adrian’s Adam's apple bobbed as he spoke. “Go clean off the shoe print.”

Then his gaze locked on me, his voice cold and commanding. “You stepped on it, Julia. Clean it!”

I stared back at him and responded, “I didn’t step on it. I’m not cleaning it.”

Camille's sobs grew louder. “You’re the only one who walked past. Who else could it have been?! You know it was you!”

Before I could respond, Camille’s phone rang. She answered and put it on speaker.

A woman’s voice screamed through the room, loud and vicious. “You slut! Who told you to seduce Adrian?! You’ll die a miserable death, homewrecker! I swear I’ll get justice for Julia!”

Camille’s eyes glistened as she turned to Adrian, her voice fragile. “Adrian, I started getting all these hateful messages out of nowhere…”

Adrian’s hand clenched, veins bulging in his wrist.

“You had someone do this?” he asked. “Really, Julia? Attacking a fresh grad? Aren’t you ashamed?!”

Without hesitation, Adrian grabbed a pen, signed the divorce papers in anger, and flung them to the floor.

“You disgust me!”

I bent, picked up the agreement, and walked away without a word. Whatever noise happened behind me, I didn’t look back.

Adrian sank into his chair, panting. His gaze wandered to the papers scattered on the floor. Suddenly, his gaze landed on a small bundle of hair pressed beneath the divorce agreement.

In a flash, he was on his feet and bolting out the door, but it was too late.

I was already gone.

Adrian rushed downstairs, just in time to see me step into a blue Bentley.