Divorce Me? Now Watch Me Ruin You

“Happy third anniversary, Tristan.”

Evelyn placed her warm tea on the kitchen counter and watched the penthouse door. The small black box sat beside the stove. She had been sick every morning for three weeks, taken two pregnancy tests, and visited a doctor in secret. She took a deep breath, adjusted her cream sweater, and waited for Tristan to come home.

The door opened.

Tristan walked in and dropped his briefcase on the bench. He didn't look at her or hang up his coat. He headed straight for the kitchen counter, his footsteps loud against the wooden floor.

“You stayed up,” he said.

“It is eight o’clock,” Evelyn replied, her voice soft. She tapped the edge of the velvet box with her index finger. “I made dinner. It is still in the oven if you want a plate.”

Tristan reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a thick manila envelope. He laid it flat on the marble, right over the spot where her tea mug rested.

“Don’t bother with dinner,” he said. He stood tall over the counter, his tie pulled slightly loose at his throat. “We need to settle this tonight.”

Evelyn looked down at the dark yellow paper of the envelope. “Settle what?”

“Chloe is back in New York.”

The name hung in the air. Evelyn moved her hand from the counter to her stomach, hiding it beneath the table. She stayed still, not even reaching for her tea.

“She arrived from London on Monday,” Tristan said calmly. “She has stage four small cell carcinoma. The doctors say she has about five months left, maybe six.”

Evelyn watched his face. “Why are you telling me this, Tristan?”

“You know what she did for my family,” he said. “Five years ago, when the government audit nearly destroyed my family’s company, Chloe took the blame. She signed the legal papers, faced the public’s anger, and moved overseas to protect my father’s position. I owe her everything.”

“Do you owe her your company’s legal standing?” Evelyn asked softly.

“I owe her my life!” Tristan snapped, his knuckles whitening as he leaned both hands on the marble. “She is dying, Evelyn. She is just twenty eight years old, she is hook-tied to an oxygen tank, and she has one request before her organs fail.”

Evelyn looked him straight in the eyes. “What request?”

“She wants to pass away as my wife.”

Silence filled the space between them. The hum of the quiet double-door refrigerator was the only sound in the large kitchen.

“She wants the Sinclair name on her estate papers,” Tristan continued, stepping back and smoothing his lapels. “She wants the press to record her as my legal spouse. It is the least I can offer a woman who gave up her entire youth to keep my family out of prison.”

Evelyn reached out, her fingers resting lightly on the edge of the yellow envelope. “So you brought me divorce papers.”

“The terms are fair,” Tristan said, pulling a pen from his breast pocket and placing it beside the envelope. “I had the firm’s lead counsel draft it this afternoon. I am leaving you the apartment in Greenwich, a monthly allowance of fifty thousand for three years, and the white Mercedes. You won’t have to work. You won't have to worry about a single bill.”

“And what if I don't need those things you just mentioned?” Evelyn asked.

Tristan let out a short breath through his nose. He adjusted his watch, refusing to look directly at her eyes. “Don’t make this ugly, Evelyn. You have always been sensible. You knew from day one that my obligations to the family come before everything else. Chloe doesn’t have time for a long court battle, and frankly, neither do I. Sign the papers tonight so the legal team can file first thing in the morning.”

Evelyn looked at his hand, at the thick gold band resting on his left ring finger. The very ring she had picked out three years ago in that quiet jewelry shop downtown.

“You spent three years coming home to this kitchen,” she said quietly. “You ate the meals I cooked. You let me fix your collar before every board meeting. And now you walk in here on our anniversary and hand me paper?”

“Do not bring up the anniversary!” Tristan’s voice cut through the air like a blade. “A dinner date means nothing compared to a woman dying in a hospital suite across town! Chloe is coughing up blood while you are sitting here complaining about a date on a calendar!”

Evelyn closed her eyes for a single second. Her heart hammered against her ribs, hard and fast, but her fingers remained perfectly still against her lap. When she opened her eyes, the soft warmth in them was entirely gone.

She picked up the pen.

Tristan blinked, his eyebrows pulling together. “You’re not going to call a lawyer?”

“You said you wanted it settled tonight,” Evelyn said.

She flipped open the envelope straight to the back page, where two sticky yellow tags pointed to the line marked ‘Defendant Signature’.

She pressed the black ink to the paper and signed her full name.

‘Evelyn Sinclair.’

She turned to the second duplicate copy and signed again.

‘Evelyn Sinclair.’

Tristan stared at her hand, his lips parting slightly. “Just like that? You aren’t going to demand more money? You aren’t even going to ask for a share of the estate?”

“I don’t want your money, Tristan,” she said quietly.

She put the pen down and slipped the wedding ring off her finger. It was tight, but she managed to remove it and placed it on top of her fresh signature.

“Evelyn…”

“I came here with my own name,” she said, looking straight into his eyes. “And I will leave with it.”

Tristan reached for the ring but stopped before touching it. “You don’t have to leave tonight. You can stay here until the Greenwich house is ready. I’ll stay at a hotel downtown…”

Before he could finish, his cell phone burst into a loud, sharp ring.

Tristan quickly pulled out his phone. The moment he saw who was calling, he panicked and answered before the second ring.

“Chloe?” he said, turning his entire body away from Evelyn. “Hey, calm down. Take a slow breath. What did the nurse say?”

A faint, breathy voice leaked through the speaker, followed by the sound of raspy coughing.

“I’m coming right now,” Tristan said, walking quickly toward the foyer without stopping to grab his coat. “Don’t try to get out of bed. I’m leaving the building now. I’ll be at the clinic in ten minutes.”

He hit the elevator call button in the private hallway. The double doors slid open with a soft chime.

He stepped into the elevator, the metal doors sliding shut between them, cutting off his silhouette completely.

Evelyn stood alone in the center of the vast, marble kitchen. She looked down at the stove, where the tea had gone completely cold. Her fingers trembled slightly as she pulled her phone from her pocket and dialed Maya's number.

Maya answered on the first ring. "Evelyn? What's up? Hope you are enjoying the celebration?"

"He came home with divorce papers," Evelyn said, her voice completely steady. "He wants me out tonight so his ex can move in. Get the car ready. I'm coming down."

Before Maya could even process the words, Evelyn hung up the phone.

She picked up her coat, grabbed her purse, and slipped the small black velvet box safely into her pocket. She walked down the private service stairs, avoiding the main lobby entirely.

–—–

A few minutes later at the bottom of the basement ramp, a sleek black sedan was already idling in the shadow of the concrete pillars. The rear window rolled down two inches, revealing the sharp, dark eyes of Maya Vance.

Maya pushed the door open from the inside. “Did you do it?”

Evelyn stepped into the back seat and pulled the heavy door shut, sealing out the damp city night. “He gave me the papers. I signed them.”

Maya turned around completely in her seat, her face tight with disbelief. “You signed them instantly? Evelyn, you built half his supply chain! You gave him the contact lists for Aegis! You let him think he was a corporate god while you ran his back office from a laptop in the bedroom!”

“He doesn’t know,” Evelyn said softly, leaning her head back against the leather headrest.

“He should know!” Maya shouted, slamming her palm against the steering wheel. “He threw you out for a woman who lied about her tax shelter five years ago! Chloe didn’t take the fall for him, she took the fall to hide her own offshore accounts! If Tristan knew that…”

“If Tristan knew that, he would stay out of guilt,” Evelyn interrupted, her tone flat. “I don’t want a man who stays because he feels guilty.”

Maya let out a long breath, shifting the car into drive. The engine purred as the sedan pulled out of the garage into the pouring Manhattan rain. “Where are we going? The estate in New Jersey or the private suite near the river?”

“The river residence,” Evelyn said. She took the small velvet box from her coat pocket and opened it.

Two pink lines showed on the pregnancy test under the dim light inside the car.

She ran her finger over it, feeling sick again. Then she leaned back against the seat and stared at the city lights outside the wet window.

“Does he know about the baby?” Maya asked quietly from the front seat, her eyes meeting Evelyn’s in the rearview mirror.

Evelyn closed the box with a sharp snap.

“He asked for a ghost,” Evelyn whispered, her voice cutting through the quiet hum of the car engine. “So I am going to give him one. Today he chose a memory over us. I will never let him make a choice for my child.”

As Maya drove down the wet road, a sudden pain hit Evelyn’s lower stomach. She gasped and grabbed her belly as the pain spread through her body.

Maya glances in the rearview mirror and panics. "Evelyn! What’s wrong?"

Evelyn pulls her hand away, her knuckles shaking as she feels a cold sweat break out across her forehead. "Maya... pull over. Something is wrong with the baby."