Called by Fire

“Miss Mia Bowen, are you sure you want to divorce Mr. Timothy Barrett?”

It was the third time Mia had sat before the clerk at the courthouse, facing their questioning.

“Yes, I'm sure.” Mia took a deep breath. Her sun-kissed face held a composed expression, her bright blue eyes free of pain. “I know what you're going to say—that my husband is wealthy, young, and handsome, and that I should cherish this marriage.”

“But he doesn't love me—and that's exactly why I need the divorce.” Mia’s voice cracked, her pain finally breaking through. “Please approve my request.”

For three months now, ever since Maya Lane had returned to the country, Mia had endured an agonizing, burning pain in her heart. She couldn't take it any longer.

Timothy was the youngest and most handsome of all the billionaires in Bern City. His cold, emerald eyes had captivated countless young women. Tall, well-built and poised like a supermodel, he wore perfectly tailored suits that lent him an air of effortless grace and gentlemanly charm.

He was not a heartless man.

If he had not missed their wedding anniversary the night before, Mia would never have returned to this office for a third time to ask for a divorce.

But the humiliation of last night had been too much. It had destroyed every last bit of her affection and hesitation.

On that special day, their third anniversary, Mia had prepared a candlelit dinner and a sexy catwoman lingerie set.

Once, on a drunken night when he had passionately made love to her, he'd said she was like a cute kitten. It was the first time he had ever whispered something so intimate to her, and the memory was etched deeply in her mind.

They’d had a few drinks, and he remained quiet as ever—yet he replied to every word she spoke.

Mia was utterly captivated by his handsome features, drawn in by his low, magnetic voice. Under the influence of the wine, she leaned in and kissed him

Then she went upstairs, put on the lingerie, and invited him to her bedroom.

When he caught sight of her sexy figure and adorable cat ears, his eyes lit up. His kiss deepened as his hands wandered over her soft curves, his fingers tracing her most intimate place.

A wave of relief washed over Mia. She moaned softly, thinking that maybe she was wrong. Maybe he and Maya were just friends now. Maybe he didn't love her anymore.

She desperately hoped her passion would make Timothy feel her love and mend the cracks in their marriage.

But just as she was slick with desire, desperate for Timothy to bury himself inside her, a phone call shattered everything.

Timothy grabbed his suit, fastened his Hermès belt, and spoke with a cold, distant look. “Something's come up. I need to go. Just keep going without me.”

With those words, he picked up his phone and left, not even glancing back as he closed the door.

Sadness weighing heavily on her, Mia lay motionless on the bed, her eyes fixed silently on the ceiling. After what felt like an eternity, she received a photo from Maya.

In it, Maya wore a sexy red nightgown, its strap slipped down to her elbow, revealing most of her chest. And a man lay draped over her other shoulder. Only half his face was visible, as he rested peacefully on her shoulder, yet Mia recognized him instantly—it was her husband, Timothy.

A small mole sat beneath his left eye, a spot she had secretly kissed countless times while he slept.

Mia's heart shattered into pieces. In that moment, she knew it was all over.

Then came Maya's provocative text. “You need to return what you stole from me. You know what I mean, don't you, you lowly caregiver?”

Mia didn't reply. Instead, she scheduled today's divorce application. This marriage wasn't something she had stolen; it was arranged by Timothy's grandmother, Laura Graham. But now, she no longer wanted it.

The clerk's voice interrupted Mia's thoughts. “I can see you've made up your mind. In that case, I'll prepare the divorce agreement for you.”

Mia thanked her. After a ten-minute wait, she finally received the document.

The agreement was short, drafted exactly as Mia had requested, with two key terms: first, Mia would leave with nothing; second, once Timothy signed, they would never see each other again.

Mia tucked the divorce agreement into her canvas bag and called an Uber to take her home.

The moment she stepped into the villa, she saw red-haired Maya sitting weakly on the living room sofa, with her husband Timothy beside her, peeling an apple.

Maya leaned against Timothy, her voice coquettish. “I don't want it. Chewing is such an effort...”

A rare look of worry and concern softened Timothy's usually calm, handsome features. “You're so weak right now—you have to eat something.”

With that, he brought a slice of apple to Maya's lips, his movements gentle.

Mia stood at the doorway, a cold chill sweeping over her from head to toe.

In three years of marriage, he had never peeled an apple for her. He had never even poured her a glass of water.

She never knew he could be so attentive.

Maya's voice took on a seductive lilt as she draped herself over Timothy's lap. “No, it’s too hard—it'll make my teeth ache... Can you mash it into smaller bits for me instead?”

Timothy frowned, as if genuinely considering whether to chew the apple into a pulp and feed it to her.

Mia wasn’t sure. All she saw was Timothy stand up—and then he spotted her.

For a split second, panic flashed across his face, but he quickly regained his usual composure. “Maya has depression—you know that. She’s in really bad shape, physically and emotionally. She needs someone to take care of her.”

Mia nodded, acknowledging his words. Without another glance at them, she clutched her canvas bag and headed upstairs.

Timothy's brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of unease crossing his eyes.

He reached out and stopped her. His lips parted, but no words came out.

“Oh, right,” Mia said, suddenly remembering something. She pulled the divorce agreement from her canvas bag—she’d already turned to the signature page before entering—and handed it directly to Timothy. “Here's this month's household bill. Please sign it.”

Timothy felt distracted, unable to understand why he felt such an urge to explain himself when he saw the hurt in Mia’s eyes. He took the pen she offered and signed quickly. “Last night... I shouldn’t have left you alone,” he murmured, frowning. “I know I missed our anniversary, but I’ll find a way to make it right.”

He’d always known how much she valued rituals—and it was that very thing that had made their three years of marriage so wonderful. Mia was his wife, and he would fulfill his duties as her husband—he meant what he said.

Mia quietly tucked the signed divorce agreement back into her canvas bag, nodded, and walked upstairs.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. I don’t even want you anymore—what’s an anniversary compared to that?” she thought bitterly.

She had once treasured rituals so much because she'd been an orphan since childhood. Her foster parents had taken her in, only to cast her out after having their own son.

Fortunately, her kind aunt and uncle had taken her in and cared for her. She loved them deeply, yet she'd always longed for a family of her own. That was why, after marrying Timothy, she had poured her heart into building their life together, hoping to share happiness with him on every special occasion.

But now, none of that mattered anymore.

Not long ago, her aunt had told her that her birth family had found her.

Back in her bedroom, Mia locked the door. She took out the divorce agreement and looked at the effective date written on it.

Once the divorce was finalized, she would leave this home she had shared with Timothy—a place she had never truly been part of—and return to her own family.

In seven days, she would be gone for good.