Chapter 2 - Refused

Marietta's POV

"He wants a divorce?" I repeated in shock, my voice barely a whisper.

"Are you serious?" Relief washed over me as I heard Granny Lorette’s voice from the living room.

She would calm Michael. She always had my back.

"Michael, if this is some kind of joke, you can stop now," Granny Lorette snapped.

"No! It's not a joke. I’m serious about this," Michael argued, his voice filled with frustration.

"I can’t stand this any longer, Grandmother. I’m filing for divorce. I’m sick and tired of her. I don’t even love Marietta. You forced me into this whole thing."

My breath caught in my throat. I clenched the wooden railing of the staircase, my legs trembling.

"Are you telling me that after all these years, you never loved Etta?" Granny Lorette’s voice wavered, laced with disbelief.

Michael scoffed. "You used your influence and your company shares to push me into this marriage, and now you expect me to stand by her?"

Tears burned my eyes, threatening to spill as I peered down at them from upstairs. Then Michael’s phone rang. He answered it, and I saw the moment his body went rigid.

"She did what? She lost the baby?!" he shouted.

A gasp escaped my lips.

Michael’s expression darkened. "Katty just lost the baby, Grandmother! She lost her child—one of the heirs to the company you built. My brother—Lucian—how do you think he’s going to take this?"

My heart pounded so loudly I barely heard Granny Lorette’s exclamation. Katty lost her baby?

Michael turned toward her, his voice seething with anger. "Lucian won’t let this slide, and yet you still want me to be stuck with Marietta after she killed your grandson?!"

A strangled sob broke from my throat.

Michael’s words cut deeper than any blade ever could. Murderer. He truly believed I had done this.

"Listen, Grandmother. I don’t want this godforsaken relationship anymore. I cannot be stuck with a murderer. I can’t even stand to look at her. She disgusts me."

I barely heard Granny Lorette’s response. The world around me blurred as hot tears rolled down my cheeks.

"Fine. If you no longer want this union, I will contact my lawyers and arrange the divorce papers," Granny Lorette said finally.

I sank to my knees. My vision swam, my body trembling violently. This was it. It was over.

"But mind you," Granny Lorette continued, "I won’t allow her to stay in America. Since you don’t want to see her again, I will arrange for her passport. She will leave the country and start a new life elsewhere."

Michael was silent.

"She can’t survive here. I’ve seen what happens to divorced billionaire wives. They become outcasts, shunned by the same high society they once belonged to. She will have a fresh start somewhere else," Granny Lorette finished.

I barely breathed as I waited for Michael’s response.

"I’m good with it," he said coldly before walking out the door without a second glance.

I slammed my own door shut before I collapsed onto the floor, pressing a hand over my mouth to muffle my sobs.

He hates me. He truly, deeply hates me. He doesn’t even want to see my face.

I clutched my chest, gasping for air. I thought he had started to love me after our wedding. But he hadn’t. Not even once.

Then what were all those passionate nights? The way he kissed me? Held me? Made love to me? Had it all meant nothing?

My gaze drifted to the framed photographs on the bedside shelf. One picture stood out—a childhood photo of me in Granny Lorette’s arms, my own grandmother smiling beside her. Decades ago, they had been best friends.

Laura, the woman who had practically raised me, once told me something important before she passed away from food poisoning months ago. Laura wasn’t just my grandmother’s right hand; she was her closest friend. And when my parents died in a tragic accident, my grandmother had taken me in.

Then, when I was ten, my grandmother also died in a car accident.

It was Granny Lorette who had adopted me.

“Come here, Etty. I’ll take care of you, little pumpkin. One day, you’ll be the perfect match for Michael.”

She had said those words so many times that I believed them.

I had loved Michael for as long as I could remember. Granny Lorette had promised he would be mine. I had watched him from afar, glared at the women who got too close to him. He had always warned me—

"Your jealousy will only end up hurting others."

A knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. I wiped my tears quickly and sat up just as Granny Lorette stepped inside.

"Etty, I know you heard everything," she said softly.

I didn’t respond. Instead, I let her pull me into a tight hug. The moment her arms wrapped around me, my composure broke, and I sobbed into her shoulder. She patted my back, comforting me for what felt like forever.

Then, gently, she made me face her.

"Etty, you’ve always wanted to study art. How about I speak to your mother-in-law and arrange your passport? You can leave for France and forget all about that dickhead," she suggested, brushing stray tears from my cheeks.

My lips parted, but no words came. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to divorce Michael. I love him.

"Thank you," was all I could manage.

Granny Lorette nodded and turned toward the door. But before leaving, she adjusted her glasses and gave me a stern look.

"Remember this, Etty. Katty was going to be your sister-in-law. You didn’t need to hurt her like this."

Her words crushed whatever hope I had left.

I stared at her, speechless, as she opened the door and walked out.

Only when the door shut behind her did I realize how sick I felt. A wave of nausea hit me, and I stumbled toward the bathroom, falling to my knees just in time to throw up.

I gripped the toilet bowl, panting. My body trembled as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

"What’s wrong with me?"