My Horrible Ex-Husband Can't Move On, But I Can

Amelia Grace Brown stared at her reflection in the mirror, satisfied with her hairstyle and flawless makeup.

Her dress clung to her body like a second skin, making her feel irresistibly sexy.

As she admired her own beauty, she suddenly wondered why she was still with a man who didn’t deserve her. She bet Damian didn’t even know what she did for a living. She had achieved remarkable success in her career—but to Damian, she was nothing more than an annoying wife.

How could she have stayed married for four years to a man who didn’t even care enough to respect her? The answer was simple—love. Four years ago, when Damian’s grandfather kindly suggested that she meet his grandson, she hadn’t refused. She had no expectations; she agreed out of politeness.

But the moment she saw Damian walk toward her, it felt as if the entire world had faded away, leaving only the two of them. She had fallen helplessly, hopelessly in love with that devastatingly handsome man.

Damian was six-foot-three, wearing nothing but a simple T-shirt and jeans, yet his powerful muscles were impossible to ignore—like those of a wild beast. His features looked as if God Himself had sculpted them with divine precision. God, he was gorgeous. She was certain that if he stood among the statues in an Italian gallery, people would pay just to see him.

Amelia remembered the first time she had met him—her hands had trembled so badly that she almost spilled coffee on him. She’d thought Damian would never agree to marry her. But to her shock, he calmly wiped the spilled drops off the table with a napkin, then lifted his head. His lethal blue eyes met hers.

“Let’s go to City Hall,” he said, his voice deep and steady. “I have no other plans today.”

That stormy voice swept her away. Her brain stopped working; she only remembered nodding and following every instruction he gave until the marriage certificate was signed.

She never even figured out whether Damian had been happy or furious that day. All she knew was that happiness had drowned her—only for the storm to return, this time with ice, leaving her gasping for breath.

After the wedding, Damian rarely came home. He barely spoke to her. No matter how hard she tried to engage him—her exaggerated smiles, her forced jokes—his eyes remained cold, frozen solid. Four years passed, and his anger never softened. Lately, he’d even taken to throwing away her cooking—untouched—straight into the trash in front of her.

Amelia had tried to ignore it, to live her life, until one morning she saw the news. Damian’s first love was back—the blonde ballerina who had left years ago to pursue her career. Now she was back in town. And there they were, splashed across the front page of a gossip magazine: Damian’s strong arm wrapped tightly around Sophia’s slim waist, his eyes burning with affection.

In that moment, Amelia finally understood how deep his love could be—just not for her. Something inside her snapped. She saw things clearly for the first time. She had to end this marriage.

She gave her reflection one last look in the elevator mirror before stepping into Damian’s office. It was time. The sooner, the better.

Amelia didn’t knock. She strode straight into Damian’s office.

He looked up, one eyebrow raised, completely unbothered—as if he’d been expecting her.

“Oh. You’re here.” He stood, grabbed a package from his desk, and walked over to her.

“For you,” he said, handing it over.

Amelia looked down. Inside was an extravagant jewelry set—solid gold necklace, bracelet, and earrings. Easily worth a fortune.

She lifted her eyes to him. “Why are you giving me this?”

Of all times to receive her first gift from him, it had to be right before she told him she wanted a divorce. How ironic.

“I figured I owed you something,” he said evenly, “because what I’m about to do might hurt you.”

Amelia’s heart was long numb. His coldness had become her armor. Her voice was ice. “Don’t pretend to be a gentleman, Damian. You don’t have that quality in you. Just say it. I’m here to give you my decision, too.”

“What?” He frowned, clearly thrown off. For the first time, there was genuine surprise on his face. She’d always been quiet, enduring. She used to believe all those ridiculous relationship guides—that patience earns respect. What a joke.

Now, for the first time, she saw emotion flicker in Damian’s eyes—as she fought back.

“Speak, Damian. I don’t have time.” She truly didn’t. Her hospital shifts were full; at any moment she might get an emergency call.

He gave her a long look before finally saying, “We need to get divorced. This is your parting gift. I don’t care if you—”

“I agree.”

Her interruption was sharp, decisive. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of humiliating her again.

“What?” He blinked, startled by how smoothly this was going.

“I already brought the divorce papers.” Amelia ignored his confusion and pulled two documents from her bag. “I’ve signed them. And I don’t want a single penny of your money. Your wealth gives me nightmares.” She laid the papers on his desk.

“Amelia!” Damian lunged forward and grabbed her wrist. His icy eyes locked on hers, full of accusation. “Listen to me! Divorce isn’t a game. You can’t just pretend to be indifferent hoping to get my attention.”

“Amelia, no. It will never happen. I will never love you. Do you understand?” he spat through clenched teeth.

The words sliced through her chest like a blade. She felt dizzy for a moment—the man she’d loved for four years truly despised her. She didn’t understand why everything good in her had failed to reach him.

She no longer had the strength to argue.

She pushed him away coldly. “Yes, I understand perfectly. That’s why I came here—with divorce papers.”

Her eyes locked on his. “Just sign them, and I’ll disappear from your world.”

“Do it, Damian,” she pressed. “I’m sure your lover Sophia is already waiting.”

“I will.” He snatched up a pen, fury flashing in his jawline as he scrawled his signature. “And you should know—this is final. Even if you go crying to my grandfather, I’ll never take you back. Nothing will ever change that!”

As his pen lifted from the paper, Amelia smiled.

“Why would I want to change anything?” she said softly. “Do I look like someone who still wants a man like you?”

Damian’s expression darkened. “How dare you talk to me like that?! You should be grateful I married you! You never deserved me, or the Wright family name! What do you have? Nothing! You’ve been worthless to me from day one!”

He snatched up the jewelry box again.

“You’d better take this. It’ll be the most valuable thing you ever own. Do you have any idea how much it’s worth? Maybe you can sell it for something useful. Sophia insisted I leave you a little something—you and I both know you don’t deserve anything of mine.”

The mockery stung, but Amelia no longer cared. She had reached her limit. The endless cycle of pain and hatred ended here.

“You really do overestimate yourself, Damian,” she said, voice sharp as glass. “Do you honestly think a man like you could ever give me anything real? Don’t flatter yourself. We both know this marriage only happened because of your grandfather’s illness. He’s healthy now—and I’m thrilled to finally be free of you.”

With that, Amelia turned and walked out of Damian’s office.

She couldn’t wait to celebrate her freedom.