CHAPTER 2: THE WOMAN HE REFUSED TO KEEP

The assistant’s voice cut through the heavy silence like a scalpel.

“Mr. Ashford… your father-in-law collapsed. The ambulance has already left.”

Olivia’s world tilted.

For one agonizing heartbeat, the signed divorce papers in her hands felt weightless. Then they slipped from her numb fingers and fluttered to the polished floor. She stared at the assistant, lips parted, but no sound came out.

Dad.

Just minutes ago, Lucien had ended their marriage with the cold precision of a guillotine. Now her father her gentle, hardworking father was fighting for his life. The two disasters collided inside her chest, stealing her breath.

“No…” The word scraped out of her throat, barely audible. She shook her head, slowly at first, then faster. “No… my dad can’t…”

Her legs buckled. She grabbed the edge of Lucien’s massive desk, knuckles whitening, desperate to stay upright. The room spun. The scent of leather and expensive cologne his scent suddenly made her nauseous.

Lucien stood behind the desk like a statue carved from ice. His face revealed nothing. But Olivia barely registered him anymore. The divorce, the humiliation, the years of trying to earn his love they all evaporated in the face of raw terror.

She fumbled for her phone in her handbag, fingers trembling so violently she nearly dropped it twice.

Olivia’s breath came in shallow, panicked gasps. She forgot the divorce papers lying abandoned on the floor. She forgot Eleanor’s triumphant smirk. The only thing that mattered was reaching her father.

She dialed his number. Straight to voicemail.

She tried the family house. No answer.

She called the city’s ambulance hotline. The line was busy. A recorded voice told her to wait.

“Damn it!” The curse broke on a sob. Tears spilled down her cheeks again, hot and relentless. These tears weren’t for Lucien. They were for the man who had worked two jobs so she could finish college, the man who still called her “my little star” even after she became Mrs. Ashford.

“Please… let him be okay,” she whispered, clutching the phone to her chest. “Please, God. I can’t lose him too.”

Her knees finally gave out. She sank into the nearest chair, head bowed, shoulders shaking. The elegant navy dress she had chosen that morning hoping it might make Lucien look at her with something other than indifference now felt like a costume for a play that had already ended in tragedy.

From across the room, Lucien watched her.

His jaw tightened until it ached.

Olivia’s broken whispers carved into him like tiny blades. For a split second, his fingers curled against the edge of the desk as if he might actually move toward her. The impulse shocked him. He crushed it immediately, forcing his hand to relax.

*She’s not yours anymore, he reminded himself. *She was never supposed to be.

Still, his voice emerged clipped and professional when he addressed his assistant.

“Which hospital?”

The assistant answered quickly, naming the city’s premier medical center. Lucien gave a single nod, eyes never leaving Olivia’s crumpled form.

She lifted her head just enough to meet his gaze. For a fleeting moment, confusion flickered across her tear-streaked face. Why had he asked? Was there still a shred of humanity left in him?

She didn’t have time to wonder.

Olivia pushed herself up on unsteady legs and started toward the door, clutching her phone like a lifeline.

Eleanor Ashford moved with predatory grace, stepping directly into Olivia’s path.

“You’re no longer part of this family,” she said, voice dripping with frost.

Olivia didn’t argue. She didn’t have the strength. “My father is dying.”

Eleanor’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile. She stepped aside with exaggerated courtesy, but as Olivia brushed past her, the older woman delivered her final strike.

“Maybe this is the price your family has finally paid.”

Olivia froze mid-step. The words landed like a slap. Price? What did that mean? Her father had never harmed anyone. He was a good man a kind man. Why would Eleanor speak of him with such venom?

She wanted to demand answers, but fear for her father won. Without another word, she rushed out of the office, the heavy door clicking shut behind her like the final nail in a coffin.

The private elevator descended in luxurious silence.

The moment the mirrored doors closed, Olivia shattered.

She slid down the cool glass wall until she sat on the floor, knees drawn to her chest. The divorce papers, which she had snatched up on her way out, crumpled against her racing heart. Sobs tore from her throat deep, guttural sounds that echoed in the small space.

She pulled off her wedding ring with shaking fingers. The diamond caught the light, mocking her. She remembered the day Lucien had placed it on her finger: the brief warmth in his eyes, the way he had almost smiled. Or had she imagined that too?

“What did I do wrong?” she whispered to her reflection. The woman staring back looked hollow. Broken.

She almost slipped the ring back on. Her hand hovered, trembling. In the end, she couldn’t do it. But she also couldn’t throw it away. She tucked the ring into the inner pocket of her handbag, right next to the signed papers that had just severed her from the only life she had known for the past few years.

The elevator dinged softly as it reached the ground floor. Olivia wiped her face desperately, but the tears kept coming. She stepped out into the marble lobby on legs that felt like they belonged to someone else.

Back in the executive office, Eleanor turned to her son with satisfaction gleaming in her eyes.

“You finally did the right thing, Lucien. That girl never belonged here.”

She launched into a monologue about the family’s future, the alliances they could now secure, and how Olivia had always been an embarrassment. Lucien wasn’t listening.

His gaze remained fixed on the door Olivia had walked through. The image of her tears refused to fade. His eyes drifted to the pen she had used still lying on the desk. A faint smudge of ink marked where her trembling hand had slipped.

Almost unconsciously, he reached out and picked it up. The metal was still warm from her touch.

He caught himself. Jaw clenching, he set the pen down with deliberate care, as if it had burned him.

“No.”

Eleanor eventually left, still talking. The door had barely closed when Lucien’s phone rang.

The contact name was simply “Uncle”.

He answered on the second ring.

“Is it done?” the voice on the other end asked without greeting.

“Yes.” Lucien’s tone was flat.

“Good. Don’t forget why you married her.”

The words hung in the air like smoke. Lucien’s grip tightened on the phone.

Before he could respond, his uncle continued, voice low and edged with old bitterness. “Everything we planned… it’s only beginning.”

The line went dead.

Lucien stared at the blank screen. For a long moment, he remained motionless. Then he walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows and looked out over the city, eyes distant. The revenge he had nurtured for years was in motion. But the woman who had just walked out of his life had left cracks in the armor he thought was impenetrable.

He buried the feeling deep.

Olivia burst through the emergency entrance of the hospital, heart hammering against her ribs. The sterile smell of antiseptic hit her like a wave. She scanned the busy waiting area frantically until she spotted her mother.

Her mother sat outside the intensive care unit, face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

“Mom!” Olivia rushed to her, dropping to her knees and pulling her into a fierce embrace. “What happened? Is he?”

Before her mother could answer, the doors to the ICU swung open. A doctor in surgical scrubs stepped out, removing his mask. His expression was grave, eyes heavy with the weight of bad news.

“Which one of you is Mr. Richard Carter’s immediate family?” he asked quietly.

Olivia’s breath caught in her throat. The world narrowed to the doctor’s somber face.