Divorced my ungrateful Husband and Rose to take charge

Ophelia

By the time the clock on the wall turned to 7:18 p.m, the candles had already burned lower than I wanted, and the sauce I made for dinner had begun to form a thin skin on top.

I stood in the middle of the dining room, staring at the table I had spent all afternoon setting, and forced myself not to cry before the night had even properly started.

Seven years. Today was our seventh wedding anniversary.

Seven years ago, I had walked away from everything for Rowan Callaghan.

My family’s name. My inheritance. My seat as acting CEO of Reuben Fragrance Group. The perfume houses that had been built by generations before me. Every meeting, every launch that I should have attended. I gave it all way. Being the only granddaughter of the Reuben, the only heiress, and yet, I gave it all away because I was young enough to believe love would be enough.

Rowan had pursued me for almost a year back then. With flowers, late night calls, and promises that sounded so convincing I left everything and ran to him. I believed every word and gave birth to our child, my first daughter, Marrisa. Even though it was a difficult labour, I gave birth to her with great strength.

Now I lived in a house where my husband and daughter barely looked at me.

Funny how life worked.

I smoothed my hands over my dress and inhaled slowly. The fabric clung tighter around my waist than it used to. My body had changed over the years—especially after fertility treatments, the hormone medication, and too many nights stress eating in silence while waiting for Rowan to come home.

I used to be slim enough to model the first fragrance campaign under my company. Now staring at the mirror, I couldn't even remember what being beautiful or the old me felt or looked like.

Still… tonight was supposed to be different.

My hand drifted to my stomach. I was two months pregnant. After years of trying. After countless appointments, injections, supplements, bitter pills, tears and disappointment. And now it finally happened.

The doctor had warned me this morning. In his words, my body was under strain and there was a risk of miscarriage. I needed to avoid stress and rest as much as possible.

But how was I supposed to rest when I was carrying the news that could heal everything?

I was having a baby. Maybe this would bring Rowan back to me. Maybe this would make Marissa soften and respect me again. Maybe tonight would be the start of fixing what had broken.

I looked around the room. Fresh roses in crystal vases, silver cutlery, Rowan’s favorite steak and Marissa’s favorite sushi rolls. A three-layer cake in the kitchen with ‘Happy Anniversary’ written in gold icing. I even put on makeup for the first time in months.

The front door still hadn’t opened. I checked the time again. 7:46.

Rowan’s office closed at five. He should have been home hours ago.

I reached for my phone, then stopped. Calling him would only make me look desperate. So I set it down and forced myself to wait.

At 7:41, headlights flashed through the front window. My heart leaped so hard it almost hurt.

“They’re here,” I whispered to myself.

I quickly turned off the dining room lights, leaving only the candles glowing. I fixed my hair, wiped my palms against my dress, then rested one hand over my stomach.

This was it. This was finally it.

The door opened. Marissa walked in first, laughing, her school bag hanging off one shoulder. Rowan came in behind her, loosening his tie. And then the smell of alcohol hit me.

My smile faltered a bit. But I had to focus.

Rowan stopped when he noticed the candles. Marissa looked around at the decorations like she had walked into the wrong house.

I forced brightness into my voice. “Surprise.”

And neither of them smiled.

Rowan frowned. “What is all this?”

“Our anniversary,” I said carefully. “Seven years today.”

He blinked once. Then rubbed his jaw like I was inconveniencing him.

“Right.” He murmured.

I swallowed hard. “I made dinner. And I have something important to tell you.”

“Can it wait?” he asked flatly. “I’m tired.”

Before I could answer, Marissa dropped her bag and glanced at the table.

“Ew. Is that what we’re eating?”

I stared at my daughter. She was six years old. Blonde hair curling over her shoulders. Rowan’s green eyes in a smaller face.

Once upon a time, she followed me everywhere. Now she barely let me touch her.

“It’s your favorite sushi,” I said softly.

“I already ate.” She shrugged.

My brows lifted. “You did?”

She nodded proudly. “Daddy took me to dinner with Aunt Donica.”

I looked at Rowan, who didn’t look guilty. Not even looking surprised.

Marissa kept talking. “We went to Le Pavillon. Aunt Donica ordered dessert too. It was way better than this.”

My fingers curled at my sides. Le Pavillon was one of the most expensive restaurants in the city. And he took Danica instead. Not his wife, not even having to remember it was our anniversary.

Marissa wrinkled her nose as she looked me over.

“Mummy, why are you so fat now?”

The words struck harder than they should have. Children repeated what they heard. Which meant someone had been saying it around her. I felt heat rush to my face.

“Marissa,” Rowan said, but there was no real correction in his tone.

She continued, innocent and cruel all at once. “Aunt Donica says ladies should take care of themselves.”

I couldn’t breathe for a second.

Then Rowan sighed. “Go upstairs and get ready for bed.”

Marissa skipped away happily with no remorse or an idea of what she just did. She didn't glance back to see she had hurt her mother's feelings.

I turned to Rowan slowly. “You took our daughter to dinner with Donica on our anniversary?”

He loosened his cufflinks. “It was business.”

“With your mistress?”

His eyes sharpened. “Watch your mouth.”

“My mouth?” I laughed once, hollow and bitter. “You forgot our anniversary, took our child to dinner with another woman, came home smelling like alcohol, and I should watch my mouth?”

He stepped past me toward the stairs.

I followed him. “Rowan.”

He ignored me.

By the time we entered the bedroom, anger was shaking through my whole body. He pulled off his tie and tossed it onto a chair.

“I’m not doing this tonight.” He muffled sharply.

“You don’t get to decide that.” I snapped.

He turned, irritation clear on his face. “Then what do you want, Ophelia?”

“The truth. What is going on between you and Donica? Why would you leave me at home on our anniversary to eat with another woman, even taking Marissa with you?!”

He gave a humorless laugh.

“Fine. You want the truth?” His gaze slid over me slowly, coldly. “You’re a housewife. Donica is a successful businesswoman.”

I froze and he just kept going.

“You stay home all day. She runs meetings. You say I smell like alcohol. You smell like cooking oil half the time while Donica commands presence in the room. What other truth do you want to hear?”

My throat closed.

“You used to be beautiful,” he said casually. “Now look at yourself. You have rough skin and you've gained excessive weight. You're always tired and emotional, you give me so much headache.”

“Wow. Just wow, Rowan. You tell me now that I disgust you?” I whispered.

He smirked.

“Donica’s intelligent. She's elegant and capable. She knows how to speak to people who matter. And unlike you, she can actually help my career.”

I stared at him in disbelief. “You ungrateful bastard.”

His expression darkened.

I continued, “If not for me, you would still be begging for entry-level interviews.”

He scoffed. “What are you even saying?”

I stepped closer. “I gave everything away to be your wife, and a mother to Donica. I gave everything…every single thing that made me…Me! And this is how you show appreciation? Ridiculing me?”

“Step away from me, Ophelia.” Rowan hissed.

I introduced him to this industry. I taught him how to present himself. I opened doors for him before he even knew they existed. I gave up an empire for him.

I felt something inside me snap, and said, “I want a divorce.”

The room fell silent. Then Rowan smiled.

“Divorce?”

“Yes. I want a divorce, Rowan.”

He walked closer until he towered over me.

“Where exactly would a housewife like you go?”

I said nothing.

“Everything you have comes from me, Ophelia. This house. Your clothes. You're spending money.” His voice dropped lower. “If you leave me, you lose everything.”

I lifted my chin. “I had everything before I met you.”

Then he looked straight into my eyes, “Even your own daughter doesn’t want you. Face reality.”

Pain burst through my chest so sharply I almost staggered.

I shoved him. He shoved back harder. My foot slipped and I fell sideways, crashing onto the floor.

A sharp, violent pain tore through my abdomen.

I gasped. My hands flew to my stomach.

“No…”

I looked down and there was blood. A thin red line spread between my legs.

My vision blurred instantly.

“No, no, no…”

I looked up at Rowan in horror.

“Our baby…”

For the first time all night, he looked startled.

I curled over myself on the floor, shaking, blood staining the carpet beneath me as terror swallowed every breath in my lungs.

The doctor’s warning echoed in my head.

There is a risk of miscarriage.

Tears streamed down my face.