Too Late For Regret: My Ex-Husband's Downfall

Edwardo dragged her down the corridor to a deserted alcove by a large window overlooking the city. His grip on her arm was bruising.

"What is your problem?" he hissed, his voice low and furious. "Are you trying to humiliate me in front of my colleagues? In front of your own mother?"

She wrenched her arm free. "Humiliate you? Edwardo, you live a lie. Doesn't it ever get exhausting?"

He blinked, misinterpreting her words. "I know I've been working too hard. I know I've been distant. But you can't use Cleo's health as a weapon to get my attention."

He still thought this was about him. That she was a child throwing a tantrum.

The absurdity of it all was breathtaking. She was done with words. She pulled the divorce agreement from the envelope and shoved it against his chest.

"Sign it."

He stared at the words "Divorce Agreement" at the top of the page. His fury morphed into disbelief. "Divorce? Are you out of your mind? Because I asked you to give your sister some blood?"

He truly didn't see it. He couldn't comprehend a world that didn't revolve around his desires.

"I'm divorcing you because I'm tired of the lies," she said, her voice dangerously calm. "I'm tired of your selfishness. And I'm tired of the smell of another woman's perfume on your clothes."

Panic flared in his eyes again, hotter this time. "I don't know what you're talking about. You're being hysterical. You need to rest." He tried to push the papers back at her. "I'm not signing this. Our marriage is fine. You just need to calm down."

She knew then that reasoning with him was pointless. She pulled out her phone.

"You won't sign? Fine." She began to dial. "I'm sure Genevieve would be very interested to hear about you and Cleo. In the parking garage. At The Elysian Club."

She said the name of the club, and his face went white. The carefully constructed mask of the brilliant, benevolent Dr. Lucas shattered. He knew. She knew everything.

His anger wasn't about the affair being discovered. It was about losing control.

Just then, a nurse hurried down the hall. "Dr. Lucas? It's your sister-in-law. She's having a panic attack."

He was trapped. His mistress was demanding his attention. His wife was demanding his signature. He was fraying at the seams.

"What do you want?" he snarled, the words torn from his throat.

"I want you to sign the papers. Then we are done." She held out the agreement and a pen.

He snatched them from her, his movements jerky with frustration. He wanted this to be over. He wanted her to go away so he could get back to Cleo.

He was thinking about the prenup. He was thinking she would get nothing. Signing this was just a formality, a way to appease her tantrum. He could always win her back later. He was that arrogant.

Fueled by impatience and fury, he flipped to the last page. He glanced at the section headings, his eyes skipping over the detailed addendum. He saw the title-'Clarification of Non-Marital Asset Contribution'-and scoffed internally. It looked like standard boilerplate re-confirming she couldn't touch the Lucas Family Trust. He was too angry and impatient to read the dense paragraphs that followed, which cleverly outlined a one-time payout in exchange for her 'contributions' to the family's public image and a total dissolution of all claims. He didn't see the devil in the details. He saw what he expected to see-a standard division of assets as outlined in their prenup.

He uncapped the pen and scrawled his name on the signature line. Edwardo Lucas. A signature worth one hundred million dollars.

Colette took her copy, her hands perfectly steady. The marriage was over. Seven years, ended in a sterile hospital corridor.

She looked at him one last time, at the man she had promised to love forever. He was a stranger.

"Goodbye, Dr. Lucas," she said.

Then she turned and walked away, not looking back as he rushed into Cleo's room.