Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Priscilla’s POV

The days that followed were pretty much a blur of me feeling like a stranger in my own house. Creighton was barely ever home, and when he was, his mind was clearly somewhere else entirely.

Chloe was everywhere now, even when she wasn't physically in the room. Her name came up in every conversation, and his phone never stopped buzzing with her texts.

Whenever there was a conflict, like when I asked him to stay home for a family dinner we had planned weeks ago, he always chose her. She would have another panic attack, or she needed help moving into the penthouse, and he would just leave.

On top of the emotional mess, my body was starting to act really weird. I was so exhausted I could barely keep my eyes open past eight o'clock, and the smell of the morning coffee made me want to throw up.

I was standing by the kitchen counter, staring at a plate of toast and feeling completely green, when Martha came in. She was our older housekeeper who had worked for the Cross family for decades.

"Are you feeling alright, Mrs. Cross?" she asked, looking at me with a soft, worried expression. "You look a bit pale these past few days."

"I am just tired, Martha," I said, leaning against the counter. "My stomach has been a mess."

Martha hesitated for a second, setting down the towels she was holding. "If you don't mind me saying, ma'am, my daughter had those exact same symptoms when she was expecting."

I stared at her, and then I let out a dry, tired laugh. "Pregnant? No, Martha. That's impossible."

She didn't push it, just gave me another sad look and went back to her work. I dismissed the idea immediately because Creighton hadn't touched me in months.

We were basically living like strangers who shared a bed, so there was no way.

That evening, I decided to try one last time to fix whatever was left of us. I made a simple dinner and sat at the table, waiting for him to come through the front door.

When he finally walked in around eight, he wasn't wearing his suit jacket, and his tie was already loosened. He looked incredibly tired, but there was a strange, heavy look in his eyes.

He didn't walk toward the dining table. Instead, he tossed a thick manila envelope onto the coffee table in the living room.

"Priscilla, we need to talk," he said, his voice completely flat and calm.

I stood up from the table, my legs feeling a little heavy as I walked over to where he was standing. I looked down at the envelope.

"What is that?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"Divorce papers," he said, not even blinking as the words left his mouth.

The room went completely quiet, except for the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner. The silence felt heavy, like it was crushing the air right out of my lungs.

"Our marriage was a mistake from the very beginning," he continued, his voice so casual it made my skin crawl. "I think we both know that."

I didn't say anything. More like I couldn't.

"I confused gratitude and responsibility for love when I married you," he said, looking past my shoulder instead of at my face. "But Chloe is back now, and she needs me. She deserves a second chance after everything she suffered overseas."

It felt like a physical blow to my chest. My whole world was collapsing in total silence, and he was just standing there delivering the news like a business report.

I couldn't bring myself to cry or beg him to change his mind.

I just looked at him, my heart breaking into a million tiny pieces, and asked the one question that had been burning in my chest for years.

"Did you ever love me at all?"

Creighton looked at me then, his gray eyes locking onto mine. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

He hesitated for several long, agonizing seconds. The silence stretched out between us, growing wider and colder with every tick of the clock.

He said absolutely nothing.

That silence destroyed me way more than any mean words could have. It was the ultimate proof that the last five years of my life had been a total lie. Lie? No. It was a waste. It was stupid of me to have stayed.

I reached down and pulled the papers out of the envelope with trembling hands. My pride was the only thing I had left, and I refused to let Chloe watch me beg for his affection.

I grabbed a pen from the desk and signed my name on the dotted line without reading a single word.

"There," I whispered, tossing the pen onto the table. "It's over."

Creighton picked up the papers, his face completely unreadable. He cleared his throat before turning toward the door.

"The mansion, the alimony settlement, and the luxury accounts will all remain under your name," he said, his voice dropping a bit. "You won't have to worry about money."

"I don't want anything from you, Creighton," I replied quietly, looking down at the floor. "Just leave."

He stood there for a second longer, like he wanted to say something else, but then he turned around and walked out the front door.

The heavy click of the lock signaled the final end of my marriage.

As soon as the sound of his car fading down the driveway disappeared, my knees completely gave out. I collapsed onto the cold marble floor of the foyer, my body shaking violently.

I clutched the copy of the signed divorce papers tightly against my chest, the paper crinkling under my fingers.

The tears finally came, spilling over my cheeks as I sat alone in the dark, empty house.

"Five years," I whispered through my sobs, the sound echoing off the high ceilings. "I wasted five whole years loving a man who never chose me.”

If that wasn't pathetic, what was?