After 108 Chances, I Divorced the Don

When Susie called him, he was in the middle of a video conference.

The moment his phone rang, he raised a hand to end the meeting. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he patiently asked what was wrong.

On the other end, she wouldn't stop crying.

"My head hurts so much. I was out in the garden today, and now I'm so dizzy. What am I supposed to do?"

"Okay. Wait for me. Don't go anywhere."

Worry crossed his face. After he hung up, he grabbed his suit jacket and headed for the door. Then he seemed to remember something.

His eyes landed on me.

He went to the study and picked up the share transfer agreement I'd prepared.

He signed it and handed it to me. "Susie's sick. I'm sorry. I'm just going to go check on her. I'll be back soon."

Charles smiled warmly and stroked my hair, his tone soft and coaxing.

"Look over the contract. If there's anything else you want, text my right-hand man.

"You know how it is. She developed her heart condition because of me. I have to go be with her now.

"Wait for me, okay?"

"Okay," I said flatly, looking at the share transfer agreement in my hand. It gave me a stake in one of his companies, enough to buy an estate if I sold it.

Years ago, Charles had been caught in a clash at the docks. Susie had rushed in to save him, and the shock had left her with a heart condition. Out of guilt, he'd made time for her every week ever since.

I took his hand and pulled out the contract I'd prepared.

"I want you to transfer your gunrunning route to me."

Charles paused, then looked at me, his eyes softening. This was the first time I'd asked him to sign something over to me.

He let out a breath and signed the last page without even glancing at the contract. "You almost never ask me for anything. How could I say no? There. It's signed."

He took my hand, and when he felt my wedding ring, he frowned.

"I must have signed about 80 transfer agreements for you by now, right? You've got all that in your name, and you still won't buy yourself any decent jewelry.

"When I get back, I'll take you to the jeweler. Your ring is getting old."

Then he ruffled my hair one more time and walked out the door.

Only after he left did I look down at the contract. Charles had now signed 108 agreements for me.

And this was the last one I'd prepared.

Divorce papers.

He'd already signed that gunrunning route over to me months ago, when Susie came back.

He probably didn't even remember any of it himself.

He'd never denied me anything money could buy. When he was courting me, he rented an entire island and had over a dozen helicopters circle overhead, scattering rose petals, all just to make me smile.

And I'd turned him down more than 100 times.

He never gave up. If anything, he put even more effort into winning me over.

The 107th time he proposed, I said yes.

In the early days of our marriage, he never left my side. Then his first love came back, and everything changed.

He came home less and less.

He even forgot my birthday. I waited for him all night at the party, then took the cake back to the estate and called him over and over.

He finally rushed home at dawn, bringing the cold in with him. He took off his suit jacket and handed me a fund transfer agreement he'd prepared, along with a bank card.

"I'm sorry, Serena. I missed your birthday, and that's on me. Take these, and I'll blow out the candles with you."

He held my hand, looking genuinely sorry.

As I looked at him, I noticed the lipstick mark on his neck, and my heart ached.

From then on, I accepted every contract he gave me.

He'd proposed 107 times, so I decided to give him that many chances too.

But I never thought a second betrayal would follow so soon, then a third.

By the 107th time, he'd used up every chance I'd given him, all of them on Susie.

Over those seven years, he kept leaving me to go see Susie. He was home less and less, and the lipstick marks on his neck turned into hickeys.

I looked at the transfer agreements piled up in the bookcase. The despair I'd felt at first had given way to a dead calm.

And today was the last time.

After Charles left, I went back to the bedroom and booked a flight to London for four days later. The last document he'd signed was our divorce agreement.

This time, no agreement could buy my forgiveness.