From Discarded Wife, Now the Untouchable Heiress

~~ Hazel’s POV ~~

I walked into Damon’s home office with the divorce papers shaking in my hands. My heart was beating so loud I was sure he could hear it. The room smelled like leather, whiskey, and that expensive cologne he always wore. Two of his guards waited just outside the door, guns visible under their jackets. This house had never felt like home. It had always felt like a cage.

I took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eyes.

“I want a divorce, Damon,” I said quietly. “I’ve already signed. Just sign yours so we can end this.”

For a second, he just stared at me like he didn't believe what he'd just heard. Then he leaned back in his chair and started laughing. That low, cruel laugh that used to make me feel so small.

“Three years,” he said, still chuckling. “Three whole fucking years, Hazel. I have asked you for a divorce more times than I can count. Every single time you cried. You begged. You said you loved me. You said you would wait. And now… now you suddenly want out?”

He stood up slowly and walked over letting his physique tower over me. His dark eyes were cold, almost amused.

“For what? Is it because I’m with Melissa now? Is that what finally did it?”

The moment he said her name, I felt something inside me crack wide open.

Melissa.

My stepsister.

The girl who had been like a real sister to me. The one who knew I had a crush on Damon since I was nineteen. The one I had cried to about this loveless marriage so many times. Hearing her name felt like a knife twisting in my chest.

I had spent three years in this hell trying to make him love me. Three years of pouring everything I had into a man who never wanted me. I cooked for him even when he came home smelling like other women. I bought him gifts with money I barely had. I stayed up late when he was stressed with mafia business and rubbed his shoulders, hoping one day he would look at me and actually see me. But he never did.

He brought random girls to our house. I would hear them through the walls, laughing, moaning, while I cried myself to sleep in the next room. Since the three years we've been married, Damon has never touched me, never made me feel like a woman. But he brought home strippers and other girls to hook up with. Still, I stayed. I told myself if I was patient, if I was good, if I loved him hard enough, he would change. He would finally love me back.

But these last three days… showed me, how stupid I've been and the truth I had been refusing to see all these years.

***Three days earlier…

I was in the kitchen making pasta carbonara, his favorite. The house was quiet except for the sound of the sauce simmering. I had spent the whole afternoon trying to make the house look perfect, the way I always did.

The front door opened and I heard his footsteps. When Damon walked into the kitchen, my heart did that stupid little flip it always did when we saw him. He looked good. Really good. The black shirt he wore fitted perfectly, hair styled neatly and watch shining on his wrist. In his hand was a small elegant gift bag with a silver ribbon.

I wiped my hands on my apron and forced a smile.

“You’re home,” I said softly. “I made your favorite. Pasta Carbonara with extra crispy bacon, just how you like it.”

Damon didn’t even look at the food. He dropped the gift bag on the counter like it was nothing and headed to the wine shelf for a whiskey.

“Not hungry,” he muttered.

I stared at the pretty bag. My chest already felt tight. “The gift… it looks really nice. Who is it for? I can wrap it better if you want. Make it look special.”

He poured himself a drink and took a long sip before answering.

“None of your business, Hazel.”

The way he said it was so flat, so cold, but this wasn't the first he was acting this way so I swallowed hard and tried again. “You’ve been bringing home gifts a lot lately. And dressing up more. You’re… acting different. Are you seeing somebody?”

Damon turned around slowly. His intense eyes narrowed down on me. “What exactly is your problem?”

“I’m just asking,” I said, my voice shaking a little. “You never buy gifts for the girls you hook up with. You never care enough. So who is this one? Who are you being so intentional with?”

He laughed, but there was no warmth in it. Just irritation.

“You really don’t know when to shut the fuck up, do you?” He stepped closer. “I’ve asked you for a divorce so many times, Hazel. So many fucking times. And every time you said no. You wanted to play house, you wanted to stay and suffer. So now you get to watch. Mind your own damn business and leave me the hell alone.”

He grabbed the gift bag and walked out of the kitchen without another word. The sound of his footsteps going upstairs felt like nails dragging across my heart.

I stood there alone, staring at the pasta that was probably cold by now. Fresh tears burned in my eyes but I refused to let them fall.

Who is this woman?

Why was he giving her everything I had begged him for in this past three years?

And why did it hurt so much more than all the random girls before her?

I wiped my face, took a deep breath, and started cleaning up like nothing happened. Because that’s what I always did. I kept hoping. I kept loving a man who clearly didn’t want my love.

But deep down, something was shifting inside me. A quiet voice I had ignored for three years was starting to speak louder.

And maybe it was finally time to listen.