GABRIELLA

Chapter 6

As I stepped into the house that was never my home, I walked past the remains of my shattered dreams.

Dreams of raising my children here, of being loved here, more like shattered delusions, i sighed

The place had always been cold, but now it felt hollow. Emptier than I remembered.

Each step echoed as I passed through the hallway and into the kitchen. On the marble counter, something caught my eye a slick piece of paper, laid out like it was waiting for me.

I moved closer, my chest tightening. It was the divorce papers.

Already signed.

Next to it sat an expensive ballpoint pen, silver and sleek, the kind he always carried around for signing deals that cost more than my entire life.

Of course he’d be prepared.

Of course he’d make it a business.

I had signed a prenup, without a child, I wasn’t entitled to a dime of his fortune. Not the house. Not the car. Not even the wedding dress I’d once believed meant something.

Just as I turned to leave, something else on the counter caught my eye, a second piece of paper. A note. His handwriting.

“Gabriella, sign it. My secretary will be by tomorrow to pick it up. You don’t have to worry about moving out immediately. I know you have nowhere to go, so you can stay here a while.”

I stared at the words, reading them over and over. The paper felt heavier than it should have, every sentence laced with a disdain that made my skin crawl.

Pity. That’s what this was.

Not remorse. Not kindness. Just a cold, gesture to appease his guilt, if he even felt any.

I scoffed under my breath.

Did he think I’d be grateful?

That I’ll jump in appreciation at his offer of “help”?

That I’d thank him for leaving me scraps of a life he destroy?

How annoyingly stupid can Kian be!?

Without a second thought, I crushed the note in my fist until it crumpled, then tossed it into the trash.

I turned and headed upstairs, the silence of the house choking in around me.

This place had never loved me, never been home to me i just slept here.

As I stepped into “our” bedroom, a sharp pang twisted in my chest. He was rarely ever in here.

Looking around, I noticed just how dark the space felt, cold, impersonal, unlived. It looked nothing like a room that belonged to a married couple, it looked nothing like a room I would ever stay in.

And yet, I had stayed here, For three years.

He only came into this room when he wanted to mock me with the illusion of affection,

those nights where he climbed into bed, and performed his duties to provide an heir, and left without a word. As if I were nothing more than a breading tool, an outlet for his frustration.

And the worst part?

There was a time I looked forward to those nights.

What had I become?

A woman who waited for scraps of attention, abuse masked as affection, bare minimums.

A woman who shrank herself to fit his schedule, his moods, his needs.

I turned to the closet, It looked as barren as my life had become. For the wife of a billionaire, my wardrobe was laughable, mostly out of season thrift store clothes, faded blouses, and a handful of last-season designer dresses he tossed at me when a business partner insisted he bring along his “lovely wife.”

Lovely.

What a joke.

I was his baggage , Nothing more.

I rarely left the house. I mostly just sat at home—silent, smiling when necessary, praying that maybe this time he’d stay. That maybe this time, I’d be enough, praying to give him the child he so desperately needed thinking maybe then he’d look at me with a little bit of consideration.

I began packing what little I had folding each item with more care than they deserved.

As I zipped up the small suitcase, a lump rose in my throat. I realized I had no life. No identity outside of being his wife. For three years, my only goal had been to keep Kian happy.

But that ends now.

A slow breath escaped me as I ran my hand over my still flat stomach.

“For me… and for you, little bean,” I whispered.

For the first time in a long time, I felt like maybe just maybe, I could start over.

As I carried my suitcase down the stairs,each step felt heavier than the last, like I was walking away from the only life I’ve known.

I paused in the kitchen. The divorce papers still sat on the counter, exactly where I’d left them earlier silent, smug, like they were waiting for me to give in.

I picked them up.

One last time, I let my eyes run over the bold letters of my name and his, the legal end to a life that never truly started.

I took out my phone, snapped a picture of the signed document, my receipt for freedom and without a second thought, I scribbled my name at the bottom.

Gabriella Rhys.

But not for much longer.

I set the pen down beside the paper and walked away, not looking back. I didn’t take anything that didn’t belong to me. Not the cold designer furniture, not the photos of fake smiles, not even the expensive perfume I once saved for nights I hoped he’d notice me. None of it mattered anymore.

Luckily, my entire life, three years of heartbreak, shrinking, fit neatly into a medium sized suitcase.

I hailed a cab, gave the driver Audrey’s address, and leaned back against the seat in silence.Something inside me had just died and been reborn all at once.

When the cab finally slowed to a stop in front of Audrey’s apartment, I looked up and saw the blinds shift. The door opened before I could even pay the driver.

She’d been waiting. Watching for me.

As soon as I stepped out, Audrey ran toward me. She hugged me tightly, letting my suitcase thud to the ground beside us.

“I did it,” I whispered against her shoulder. My voice cracked, thick with tears I refused to let fall. My chest ached, but my eyes remained dry. I think I’d cried enough for a man who never even cared to learn my middle name.

Audrey pulled back slightly to look at me.

“I’m starting anew ,” I said, my voice firmer this time.