Chapter 6

Sebastian

“You want a what?” Sebastian’s voice is so quiet it’s almost worse than if he’d yelled.

Dahlia stands up from the bed even though her ribs are screaming. “A divorce. I’m done.”

He doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t move. Just stares at her with eyes so cold she actually takes a step back before she can stop herself.

“Your grandmother wanted to see you married before she died,” she continues, the words tumbling out faster now. “So I’m giving you an out. Have the life you actually want instead of—”

“So what’s your plan then? Go back to your father’s farm?”

“Maybe I will.”

“And you think I’ll just let you.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

He moves so fast she doesn’t have time to step back. One second he’s across the room and the next he’s right in front of her, so close she has to tilt her head back to see his face.

“You want to talk about choices?” His voice drops into something lethal. “Let’s talk about the choice you made three years ago when you got me into bed.”

Her face goes hot. “Don’t. I was twenty and in love with you!” The words burst out of her before she can stop them. “So congratulations, Sebastian. You got trapped by some pathetic girl. What a terrible fate.”

The silence that follows is suffocating.

Sebastian’s expression shifts into something she can’t read. “This is what you do. You twist everything until you’re the victim. You wanted access to this life. To money and status and everything that comes with being Mrs. Sebastian Hawthorne.”

“You’re right.” The admission comes out bitter and sharp. “I wanted all of that. I wanted the fairy tale where the nobody from nowhere marries the prince and lives happily ever after. But the prince was never interested in the nobody. He was just waiting until he could get back to the girl he actually loved.”

His jaw tightens but his expression doesn’t change.

“Don’t bring Arabella into this.”

“She’s already in it!” Dahlia’s voice rises despite herself. “She’s having your baby so congratulations, you finally got your happy ending!”

The color drains from his face.

Just for a second, his mask slips and she sees something raw underneath—shock maybe, or guilt.

Then it’s gone.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says quietly.

“Don’t I?” She laughs and it sounds hysterical even to her own ears. “I was at the hospital, Sebastian. I saw you with her. So you can stop lying now because I already know everything.”

His phone starts ringing.He pulls it out without breaking eye contact, glances at the screen, hits decline and shoves it back in his pocket.

“That was probably her,” Dahlia says. “You should—”

“Shut up.”

The words are quiet but they cut like glass.

She does.

They stand there in the middle of the bedroom staring at each other and the silence stretches so long and so thick she can barely breathe through it.

Dahlia moves around him toward the bedroom. “I’ll have divorce papers drawn up and—”

“And if I don’t sign it?”

She looks back at him. “Then I’ll make your life hell until you do.”

His eyes narrow. “Is that a threat?”

They stare at each other across the dimly lit room—years of resentment and disappointment and broken promises stretched between them.

“You won’t last a month without me,” Sebastian says finally. He gestures toward the door. “Let’s see how long you last before you come crawling back.”

She wants to scream at him. Wants to throw something. Wants to make him feel even a fraction of the pain that’s tearing her apart.

Instead she just says, “Get out.”

“This is my house.”

“Then I’ll leave.” She starts toward the bedroom but he blocks her path.

His hand closes around her wrist and she tries to jerk away but his grip is firm.

They’re close enough now that she can smell his cologne and see the gold flecks in his dark eyes and feel the heat coming off his body.

“Let go of me, Sebastian.”

Something in her tone makes him release her immediately.

She walks past him and closes the door.

Behind her she hears him punch the wall—a dull thud followed by a muttered curse.

Then the sound of the front door slamming.

She slides down to the floor with her back against the door.

***

By the time the sun comes up she’s packed everything that’s actually hers into one suitcase.

She doesn’t have much here—most of her belongings are things Sebastian bought. The clothes in the closet, the shoes, the jewelry. All of it chosen by stylists and personal shoppers to make her look like she belongs in his world.

It takes less than an hour to pack three years of her life into one bag.

***

Sebastian returns to the apartment the next morning.

He spent the night at the office. Or tried to. Mostly he paced the break room and replayed the fight in his head until his temples throbbed.

I want a divorce.

Four words and his perfectly controlled life had shattered.

He’s still angry when he walks through the door. Still ready to continue the fight.

But the apartment is too quiet.

He notices the coffee mug on the table first. Steam is still rising from it—she must have made it recently.

His anger softens slightly. Maybe she’s calmed down.

He picks up the mug and takes a sip. It’s perfect—exactly how he likes it. She’s the only one who makes it right, not too strong, not too weak, with just a hint of cinnamon the way his grandmother used to make it.

A peace offering.

He feels something in his chest loosen. She’s impossible and dramatic and infuriating, but she does care about him. He knows she does. These little things prove it—the coffee, the way she used to leave his favorite snacks in his briefcase, the way she’d wait up for him even when he said not to.

Over the past month she’d stopped doing those things. Stopped trying. It had irritated him more than he wanted to admit.

Rosalind the housekeeper appears from the hallway.

“Is she still sulking in the bedroom?” Sebastian asks, taking another sip of coffee.

“No sir. Ms. Miller left this morning.”

The coffee turns bitter in his mouth. “What do you mean, left?”

“She packed a bag and departed about twenty minutes ago.”

“She—” He sets the mug down carefully. “Did she say where she was going?”

“No sir.”

“Did she say when she’s coming back?”

Rosalind’s silence is answer enough.

That’s when his eyes fall to the papers on the coffee table.

He picks them up and the first page makes his blood run cold.

PETITION FOR DISSOLUTION OF MARRIAGE

For a long moment Sebastian just stands there, the papers in one hand and the coffee mug in the other.

Then he crosses to the kitchen and dumps the coffee down the sink. The dark liquid swirls and disappears.

He reads through the divorce agreement more carefully. The terms are almost insulting in their simplicity. She’s walking away with nothing.

He flips to the last page to see her signature.

That’s when he sees it.

Grounds for Dissolution: Irreconcilable differences resulting from Respondent’s consistent failure to fulfill marital obligations including emotional support and adequate physical intimacy.

He reads it again.

And again.

The legal language is formal but the meaning is crystal clear.

She’s claiming he can’t satisfy her. That he’s inadequate in bed.

His face goes hot and then cold. She put it in writing. In a legal document that will be filed with the court.

Sebastian grabs his phone and dials her number, his jaw clenched so tight it aches.

It rings once.

Twice.

Three times.

She answers on the fourth ring.

“Hello, Sebastian.”

Her voice is calm. Eerily calm.

“What the fuck is this?” he snarls.