Torn Papers: My Bankrupt Military Husband

Donovan stared at Josie.

His dark eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. He searched her face, looking for the punchline. Looking for the mockery.

He let out a harsh, cynical scoff. The sound scraped against the walls of the quiet room.

"The Sterling family is officially bankrupt, Josephine," Donovan said, his voice dripping with venom. "We are politically dead."

He pointed a large, calloused finger at the stacked cardboard boxes.

"Look around," he ordered brutally. "There is no more luxury here. There is no status left for you to leech off. It's gone."

Josie maintained her calm posture. She listened to his harsh words without breaking eye contact. She felt the heat of his anger, but she didn't flinch.

She reached down and picked up the divorce papers from the glass table. She held the thick stack of legal documents up between them.

Donovan watched her hands. His jaw ticked again. He was waiting for her to name her price.

Josie gripped the top of the thick document firmly with both hands.

With a sharp, deliberate motion, she tore the divorce papers cleanly down the middle.

The loud, violent sound of tearing paper ripped through the tense silence of the living room.

Donovan physically flinches. His broad shoulders jerked back. His stoic, terrifying expression shattered into pure, unadulterated shock.

Josie didn't stop. She aligned the torn halves and tore them again. Her knuckles turned white with the effort. She reduced the legal documents to useless, jagged scraps.

She opened her hands. The torn pieces fluttered down, scattering over the glass coffee table like dirty snow.

Donovan moved before she could blink. He stepped around the table and grabbed her shoulders. His large hands gripped her roughly.

"What do you want from me?" he demanded, his voice cracking with a mix of fury and confusion.

Josie winced slightly as his fingers dug into her flesh. She didn't pull away. She let him hold her, showing her physical submission to his overwhelming presence.

She lifted her right hand and placed it gently over her lower abdomen.

She drew his dark gaze downward, forcing him to look at the physical reality of the baby.

"A child needs a father," Josie said softly, her voice unwavering. "I am not going to raise it alone."

Donovan stared at her stomach. The raw anger in his eyes flickered. It was instantly replaced by a sudden, terrifying vulnerability.

His grip on her shoulders loosened significantly. The heat of his palms seeped through the thin fabric of her dress.

He stepped back, dropping his hands as if she had burned him. He ran a trembling hand through his short, military haircut. He was completely thrown off balance.

"You're afraid of the DC gossip mill," Donovan accused, his chest heaving. He was desperately trying to find a logical, selfish reason for her madness. "You don't want to be a disgraced single mother."

Josie nodded slightly. It was the perfect cover.

"I am," Josie agreed smoothly. "And I know you are a man of honor, Donovan. You would never let your own family starve."

Donovan processed the compliment. His jaw tightened. A tiny, involuntary glimmer of hope sparked deep in his chest. It terrified him.

"The rust-belt town in Pennsylvania is freezing," Donovan warned her, his voice rough. "It's dirty. It's unforgiving. You won't survive it."

"As long as you are there," Josie replied, her tone perfectly even, "I can endure the cold."

The sheer sweetness of the statement caught Donovan completely off guard. The tips of his ears turned a sudden, dark red.

He quickly turned his broad back to her, hiding his face. He adjusted his stiff uniform collar nervously.

"If this is a trick, Josephine," Donovan said gruffly to the wall, "you will regret it for the rest of your life."

Josie smiled at his broad back. She had planted the first seed.

"Donovan!"

A loud, furious voice suddenly echoed from the second-floor landing, shattering their fragile moment.