Divorced By My Cold Husband, I Returned As A CEO

“Sign here,” he said calmly, but firm.

He pushed the divorce papers across the table.

The young, gentle-looking woman across from him froze. She slowly picked them up, staring in disbelief. She had never imagined that this marriage would come to an end.

Gathering what little strength she had left, she asked in a broken voice, as if the papers could magically turn from divorce papers into a land title,

“What’s this, Victor?”

Victor clenched his fingers tightly.

“Look, Elara,” he said, lifting his gaze to meet hers straight, emotionless.

“I didn’t want this marriage in the first place,” Victor said firmly . “It was my father who kept pushing me into it.”

Elara listened, pain spreading through her entire body. She fully understood what he meant she just didn’t want to accept the reality.

He continued, his voice steady.

“That’s why, in all these five years, we slept in separate bedrooms. Even the marriage contract itself showed there was no falling in love.”

He didn’t pause.

“That should have prepared you that anytime soon, we would separate.”

Then he added quietly, yet cruelly honest,

“And I’m doing this so soon because the woman I have only ever loved in my whole life is back. Look, Elara, I wouldn’t have asked for the divorce but I made a promise to her. And I really love her.”

The words struck Elara like a sharp bullet.

In that moment, all her illusions shattered.

He had only been caring for her because he had to, not because he loved her. He actually loved someone else.

There wasn’t a single day in all these years of marriage that he forgot her birthday. He took care of her when she fell ill, ordering the maids to cook whatever she wanted, making sure she was comfortable, attending to her every need.

But all that… all that care, all those small gestures… that illusion was shattering now.

Everything she had believed about their marriage: the warmth, the attention, the thoughtfulness was nothing more than obligation.

And the truth hit her like a cold wave: he had all these meant nothing to him.

She sighed and managed to say, “Oh… I understand then,” trying to control her tears.

“Do you have a pen?” he asked, his voice shaky.

He rifled through his coat pockets and handed her the pen.

She gently signed.

Victor had never expected her to sign so easily, without pressing more questions. “You will talk to my lawyer for what you want me to give you,” he said.

She nodded in pain, masking it as best she could.

“Can I stay the night? I will leave tomorrow morning,” she asked quietly.

“Elara, you will leave any day you’re more prepared,” he replied, his voice calm but distant.

Then, without looking back, he left and went upstairs.

Elara sighed, as if she had been holding her breath all this while.

She looked at the beautifully designed table so carefully arranged, yet he hadn’t spared it a single glance.

Today was the day they had gotten married… and now it was the day they were separated.

She had spent days planning ways to make this day magical. The maids had helped her prepare the food, the cake everything. She had been waiting to surprise him after he returned from work. But now… he was the one surprising her.

Her legs felt weak, her stomach churned, and a wave of sickness hit her. She stumbled forward, gripping the cake, and opened it.

Inside was a little note:

I have really fallen in love with you… and we’re going to be parents.

Elara looked at it and smiled through her pain.

She put a hand on her belly, her thoughts betraying her as memories flooded back.

The night… the night he had asked her to drink with him, stressed from work. They had both been drunk, and in the haze of alcohol and emotion, they had made love for the first time breaking the one rule they had lived by: no sharing the bed.

Although he had told her to pretend that nothing had happened, it was harder than she expected. That night had left a mark one that was now impossible to ignore, for it had brought fruit…

Her hand rested gently on her stomach, a mix of fear, awe, and disbelief coiling inside her. But nothing mattered now she lifted everything and dumped it into the trash outside the house.

But just then, a car pulled up. She wondered who could have come this late.

The car parked, and she noticed the heels first.

Then a woman stepped out heels clicking against the pavement, her clothes expensive and perfectly put together.

Her dismay grew as she recognized her.

It was her stepsister. Serene. Her tormentor, her abuser.

Elara froze. She could never see her again… not her. Not after everything she and her mother had done to her.

She stumbled back, her chest tightening as she looked at Serene.

What was she doing here… at Victor’s house?

Wasn’t she supposed to be abroad?

How did Serene know where she lived?

And then, it hit her.

She was Victor’s first love.

The realization hit her harder than the divorce ever had. Of all people… why did it have to be Serene?

Serene mirrored her expression, but there was one terrifying difference , she wasn’t weak.

She looked at Elara, her gaze sharp, unflinching, and full of glare .

She then stepped closer, her voice suprised and angry.

“I expected to see you everywhere,” she spat, her eyes blazing. “On the streets… begging in all the dirty places where you belong but not in my man’s house!”