In her hope that real love would blossom free from the shadow of her wealthy and strong family background, Demi Perez had to subtly hide her own identity from her husband, Jeff Ortega. And for the past five years of marriage, all that she ever did was pour all that she has to offer into their marriage, only to be met with cold indifference—and divorce papers that would end things between them. With Demi’s beauty and brains along with her wealth, she had completely conquered the corporate world and made some great impressions everywhere she went, and that includes dominating the failing company of her ex-husband. And in just a year after her divorce, Demi came back powerful and famous. No longer was she the once naive ex-wife that Jeff left behind, because right now, Demi has once again reclaimed her status as the elite and powerful heiress of the Perez clan. “Do you really have to play this dirty game to take revenge on me, Demi?" her ex-husband asked at last. And Demi grinned with such seductive power. “Oh no, It’s not a game, Jeff. It’s just giving you the same doze of your own medicine.” she replied. But as their old flames rekindle, Jeff wasn’t sure if he still wanted retribution or if he wanted her back. While Demi, on the other hand, has to decide whether she would finish what she started, or risk her heart all over again.
View More(Demi’s POV)
The divorce papers were glaring back at me from the mahogany table like some sort of a nasty reminder of my shortcomings as housewife. My trembling fingers brushed over the ink where my husband, Jeff Ortega’s, signature glared at me, bold and resolute.
His decision was final, and it was unyielding just as the man himself.
However, Jeff was standing in front of the window even as I turn and witnessed how the soft afternoon light shining on his erect figure. His eyes were as cold and far away as before, and his sharp facial features were etched with resolve. The distance between us was heightened by his coldness, even with his back facing my direction.
“I’ve already signed the papers. You should hurry and sign them too,” he said, his tone devoid of emotion. “I want everything finalized before Stella returns.”
Stella. The name cut through me like a blade. My throat tightened as I fought back tears.
Jeff didn’t even glance in my direction. “We’ve agreed on the partition of assets before marriage, so there shouldn’t be any disputes. But I’ll compensate you with fifty million dollars and a house near the border. My father…” He hesitated for a moment, then continued, “He would expect me to offer you something substantial.”
“Does… does your dad know you’re divorcing me?” My voice cracked as I finally forced the words out.
Jeff’s laugh was humorless. “Does it matter? Do you think if he knew it would change anything?”
The weight of his words pressed down on my chest. My grip on the table tightened as I tried to steady myself. “Jeff,” I whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. “Can we not get a divorce?”
At that, he spun around, his eyes blazing with frustration. “I’ve had enough, Demi! Every second of this marriage has been torture. A loveless, miserable relationship—that’s all you’ve given me.”
His words tore through the weak hope I had held onto for so long like a mallet. Even though tears were streaming down my cheeks, I resisted showing him how helpless I was.
“It was a mistake from the start,” he continued. “You knew I loved someone else, yet you agreed to this charade. Now that the five-year agreement is over and Stella is returning, it’s time for you to step aside give her the position of being my wife where it truly belongs.”
Step aside. He was quick to address me that way as though my feelings, sacrifices, and my existence were nothing to him at all. At this point, all that I wanted was to cry out loud, to demand that he acknowledge everything I’d endured for years. But Instead, I could only afford to lower my head as my tears continued to soak the divorce papers lying beneath me.
And then, Jeff’s phone buzzed, cutting through the suffocating silence between us. His behavior quickly changed and it shifted immediately into someone completely different as he answered the call.
“Hello, Stella,” he said softly, his voice dripping with warmth that I had never heard directed at me. “What?! You’re already at the airport? I thought your flight is scheduled tomorrow evening? Alright. I’ll pick you up right now then. Wait for me.”
Without another glance in my direction, he strode out of the room, leaving me with the papers and the shards of my broken heart.
***
I watched that evening from the sideline while everyone seemed too busy especially as Jeff entered the manor cuddling Stella in his arms. The joy of the workers filled the house, and I couldn't help but feel out of place in my own house.
My heart ached at the sound of Stella's laughter that filled the corridors of the manor. "Jeff, do you think all of this seems off? I mean, Demi might hate me for this.”
With a disdainful tone, he reassured her, "Oh, no worries. She won't. This marriage was never real to begin with. She knows her place.”
The words made my chest hurt even more. Even though I had given him everything, he still only saw me as a duty he must fulfill as part of the marriage arrangement.
And for that reason, I made up my mind later that night. I packed a little suitcase and sneaked out of the house without a word. Without looking back, I quickly hopped into the black Porsche waiting outside the gates. As I got inside, I instantly felt my heart tensed.
There, I was met with a worried smile by my childhood friend, Brent, who was handling the wheels.
"Hey Demi, are you certain about this? There’s no turning back once I move the car.” He inquired quietly.
Even though my hands were shaking, I nodded and spoke firmly. “Yes. Just go. I can’t stay in this place for another moment longer.”
***
The sound of the engine had drowned out my racing thoughts especially as Brent's car sped through the streets. In spite of the excruciating pain I was feeling deep within my chest, It would seem like I felt free for the first time in so many years.
“Where to?” Brent asked gently, his eyes flicking to me in the rearview mirror.
I hesitated. “Anywhere but here.”
He understood and nodded. I had known Brent in the past, and he had always had faith in me. He hadn't thought twice about helping me when I had called him earlier, feeling hopeless and broken.
"You know that you deserve more than this." He whispered beside me.
Although I wasn't entirely sure I believed what he was meant with those words, I simply let it sink in. After everything, my heart still ached for Jeff. but despite this, I simply just couldn't get risk pushing myself to be with someone who only saw me as a hindrance to his happiness.
Brent dropped me off at the Imperial Hotel, far from the prying eyes of the Ortega family. Compared to the stuffy atmosphere of the Blue Manor, the air was clear and fresh.
"Just feel free to stay as long as you want to," Brent said, maintaining a steady gaze at my face that it makes me awkward for some reason. “Demi, you always underestimate how strong you are. Also, don't let anyone tell you otherwise.”
I nodded, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over me. I silently promised myself something as soon as I entered the villa. Without Jeff Ortega, my life would be rebuilt piece by piece. A ray of hope appeared in my life for the first time in years.
The hotel turned into a haven for me, a healing space. Brent came back after parking his car, his presence a comforting reminder that not everyone in my life had abandoned me.
"You're doing better than I anticipated," he said in a playful tone.
With a tiny smile tugging at my lips, I answered, "I have to. For myself."
However, a part of me continued to yearn for the man who had broken my heart even as I moved on. Jeff Ortega might have discarded me, but he would never truly be gone from my thoughts.
The crisp night air brushed against my skin as Brent guided me onto the elevator. He had demanded this surprise in the hopes that it would cheer me up. The building was surrounded by glistening city lights.
I questioned in frustration, "Brent, what are you trying to show?"
He leaned against the railing and grinned. He looked at his watch and said, "My secretary planned this. Fireworks start in...three, two, one."
The night sky was painted with purple fireworks as a loud boom filled the air. Below us, couples gathered on the balcony, their faces beaming with joy. I grinned in spite of myself.
"Your secretary has terrible taste," I shook my head.
Brent chuckled. "Better than his past attempts. And there’s more. Gifts from everyone are waiting in your room. You’re loved, Demi. It’s time to focus on the people who truly deserve your love."
His words brought a lump to my throat. I turned away, blinking back tears.
The next few weeks were a dance of small things.Late night conversations. Little confessions. Fighting over what movie to watch. Laughing until my stomach hurt. Crying when the weight got too heavy and letting him hold me through it.It wasn’t perfect.Sometimes I still flinched.Sometimes he still said the wrong thing.But we were learning.Learning how to be us without pretending the past didn’t exist.Learning that love isn’t about erasing scars—it’s about tracing them with reverence.One night, months later, after too much wine and too much laughter, Jeff pulled me close and said against my hair:“I don’t want a clean slate with you, Demi. I want the messy one. The one with mistakes and lessons and a thousand second chances. I want the real thing.”I smiled, my heart aching with something fierce and beautiful.“You already have it,” I whispered back.And for the first time in what felt like forever, I knew it was true.Love wasn’t a single moment of forgiveness.It was a thousand
The evening air hit me like a slap the second I stepped out of Jeff’s condo.Sharp. Cold. Unforgiving.I kept walking, barely aware of the streets, the familiar cracks in the sidewalks, the faint hum of the city coming alive for the night. I walked because standing still meant feeling everything at once, and right now, that felt unbearable.The photo burned in my mind. Stella's hand in his. Her smile. His.Closure, he had said. But how many versions of closure could one person have before it stopped being closure and started being something else entirely?I found myself at the small park three blocks away without realizing it. I collapsed onto a bench, wrapping my arms around myself, willing the tightness in my chest to ease.It didn’t.Because this wasn’t just about a photograph.It was about the small cracks in the foundation we were trying to rebuild. Tiny fractures that, left ignored, would one day split wide open and swallow us whole.And God, I was so tired of trying to be the o
Around noon, I found a note taped to my computer monitor. Simple, clean handwriting. I didn’t need to ask who it was from."Dinner. Your place. 7PM. You don’t have to say anything. Just let me try. –J"I stared at it for a long time.It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t a demand.It was... a hope.A quiet one. One I hadn’t earned yet. One I wasn’t sure I could accept.But when seven o’clock rolled around, I was home. I had lit candles. Put on soft music. Worn something that wasn’t just lounge clothes.And I waited.At 7:02, there was a knock.I opened the door, and there he was—holding a bag of takeout from my favorite Thai place, rain in his hair, uncertainty in his eyes.“Hi,” he said softly.“Hi,” I replied.He stepped inside, and we moved through the motions like a dance we hadn’t forgotten. Plates. Chopsticks. Steam curling from cartons. But the real heat in the room wasn’t from the food.It was the tension.I finally broke it.“Who was that message from?” I asked, voice even but my heart
I didn’t go far. Just to the small park down the block from Jeff’s condo unit—the one with the crooked benches and a fountain that hadn’t worked since spring. I sat there, my coat tight around me, watching the early evening swallow the sky whole.I didn’t cry. Not really.I was too tired for tears. Too wrung out from constantly stitching together the pieces of us, only to watch them come loose again.I pulled my phone out, stared at the blank screen. No texts. No calls. And maybe that was the point. Jeff had said he wouldn’t stop trying, but he hadn’t come after me. Not this time.Maybe he was learning to give me space. Or maybe he was just as exhausted as I was.A gust of wind tore through the branches above, scattering brittle leaves across my boots.Why does love feel like this sometimes?Not soft and soothing, but raw. Like walking barefoot on broken glass, hoping every step doesn’t cut too deep. Hoping the bleeding stops before the next fight.But despite everything, I didn’t wan
Around noon, I found a note taped to my computer monitor. Simple, clean handwriting. I didn’t need to ask who it was from."Dinner. Your place. 7PM. You don’t have to say anything. Just let me try. –J"I stared at it for a long time.It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t a demand.It was... a hope.A quiet one. One I hadn’t earned yet. One I wasn’t sure I could accept.But when seven o’clock rolled around, I was home. I had lit candles. Put on soft music. Worn something that wasn’t just lounge clothes.And I waited.At 7:02, there was a knock.I opened the door, and there he was—holding a bag of takeout from my favorite Thai place, rain in his hair, uncertainty in his eyes.“Hi,” he said softly.“Hi,” I replied.He stepped inside, and we moved through the motions like a dance we hadn’t forgotten. Plates. Chopsticks. Steam curling from cartons. But the real heat in the room wasn’t from the food.It was the tension.I finally broke it.“Who was that message from?” I asked, voice even but my heart
By Monday, we were back in the city.Jeff dropped me off at my place, and though we kissed goodbye with a promise to see each other soon, something lingered between us—something unspoken and tense, like a storm hovering just beyond the horizon.I tried to shake it off as I stepped into my apartment. I unpacked slowly, letting the quiet settle around me. But my thoughts refused to sit still.Why now? Why was Stella suddenly trying to reappear? And why did Jeff hesitate before telling me?It wasn’t fair—he’d done so much to regain my trust. He’d been showing up, loving me in all the right ways. But one whisper from the past, and the walls I’d slowly let fall started climbing back up.I turned on some music, something soft, just to quiet the noise inside my head. And that’s when my phone buzzed.It was a message. From an unknown number.Unknown: "You can believe him if you want. But you should know he came back to me once before. Right after the first time you left."I stared at the scre
There’s something strangely intimate about folding laundry with someone you love. Not the kind of love that’s still wrapped in red ribbons and candlelit dinners, but the kind that shows up in the quiet domesticity of Sunday afternoons—barefoot, soft music in the background, mismatched socks everywhere.Jeff held up one of my oversized sweaters, the sleeves drooping like tired arms. “This still smells like that coconut shampoo you use.”I glanced up from the pile of towels. “I haven’t used that shampoo in months.”“Must be haunted,” he smirked, then tossed it gently to my side of the bed.I laughed, but it came with a soft ache. This was good. Easy. Comfortable. Almost too comfortable.Maybe that’s why it blindsided me when the tension returned—sharp and unexpected like stepping on glass in a room you thought was safe.It happened that evening.We were cleaning out the hallway closet when Jeff’s phone buzzed on the console table. Once. Twice. Three times.He didn’t reach for it.I woul
Demi's POVI stared at the message long after Jeff disappeared down the stairs, heading toward the beach. The wind outside had picked up, brushing against the glass like a warning. I hated that this had happened—now, of all times. Things were just starting to feel steady again.I didn’t even know how he’d gotten my number. I’d deleted it all—his texts, his name, his presence from my life the moment I realized he was a distraction from what I really wanted.From Jeff.And now he comes crawling back, like the past didn’t already do enough damage.I grabbed my phone and typed a response, my fingers moving fast and sharp.“Do not contact me again. This is inappropriate and unwanted. I’m with someone I love—don’t ruin what little decency you have left.”Send.Block.Delete.My chest heaved as I placed the phone face down on the railing of the porch. The waves crashed in the distance, but I couldn’t hear them over the thud of my heart. This wasn’t fair—not to Jeff, not to me, not to what we
Chelsea popped her head into my office later that day.“You look like someone ran over your optimism.”“Not now, Chels.”She walked in anyway, plopping down on the chair across from me. “Okay. Spill.”I told her.Everything.From the breakfast to the journal to the half-confession that landed like a gut-punch instead of a step forward.Chelsea didn’t say anything right away. Then: “Do you regret telling him?”“No. But I hate that it hurt him.”“Demi, listen.” She leaned forward. “You did what most people wouldn’t have the guts to do. You gave him the full picture. He asked for proof you were in this for real, and you gave it. He needs to sit with it, sure—but that doesn’t mean he’s leaving.”“I know,” I said quietly. “But I can’t help feeling like I poked a hole in something just as it was starting to feel whole again.”“Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe that hole is where the light gets in.”I groaned. “Did you just quote Leonard Cohen at me?”She grinned. “Absolutely.”I managed a smile,
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