Chapter 4 Seraphina's Pov

The next day, I went to my lawyer’s office with my throat tight and my head pounding as if a volcano was erupting inside. 

The city outside the car window moved like it always did, busy, indifferent, bright in places I didn't want it to be. 

I shook my head at the scenery and thought of how it was funny how the world never paused for heartbreak.

When I got to the office, I sat across from a woman in a gray suit who asked questions in a calm voice, as if my life was a file that could be organized with tabs.

Dates. Assets. Custody terms. Residency. Travel restrictions.

It was crazy. 

She slid papers across the desk and watched me sign my name like I wasn’t cutting off a limb. Each signature felt like a burial and it took everything in me not to start weeping.

By the time I stepped back into Kieran’s mansion hours later, my hands felt numb.

The house smelled like polished wood and expensive candles. It always smelled perfect. Even when everything inside it broke. How did a place so flawless manage to feel like grief?

I walked through the corridor toward the main wing, my heels quiet on the floor as I moved. Then my steps slowed as voices drifted from the sitting room.

One of them was that of Daniel.

Ths other was that of Kieran. 

I stopped walking without meaning to and then listened more carefully.

“I don’t want you to go,” Daniel was saying now. His words were small but firm like he had rehearsed them in his head. He always prepared his pain like an argument he wanted to win. Just like his father in a way. 

Kieran answered gently. That gentleness was what hurt the most because he never used it on me. “I’m not going anywhere, son.”

“But Mama is,” Daniel said.

There was a pause and I imagined Kieran’s face, the way he calculated his answers, the way he balanced truth with whatever sounded kind. He’d always been good at sounding kind while staying cruel.

“Your mother needs space,” he said finally.

Daniel’s next question came quickly, sharp in that unnerving way he had when he hunted for the center of something. “Do you still love her?”

My breath caught in response as silence stretched.

Then Kieran spoke and his voice softened again, as if he were speaking to a child about something simple. “Your mother gave me the greatest gift of my life, Daniel.”

Daniel didn’t speak.

Kieran continued. “She gave me you.”

I stood there in the corridor with my palm pressed against the wall to steady myself. 

He didn’t say yes to Daniel's question.

He didn’t say he loved me.

He only said I gave him Daniel.

I waited for a second line from him. Something that may make it gentler. Something that may make it less painful for me. 

It didn’t come. It never did.

I walked away before they could see me, my steps controlled, my spine straight. I didn’t know how I managed it because my chest felt like it was full of glass that would soon crumble. 

In my room, I set my bag down and stared at the mirror above the dresser. My face looked pale and my eyes looked older than they had yesterday. 

“Pain indeed ages you faster than time ever could,” I whispered to myself as I continued to look in the mirror.

This was what heartbreak does to you, I thought with a sigh. It steals from your soul second by second.

I pulled the envelope from my bag and laid the papers out on the bed.

The papers were of custody agreement, divorce petition and relocation terms.

The lawyer had called the apartment she had gotten for me “modest” like that was a compliment. 

It had been clean, small and available immediately. Two bedrooms. Enough for Daniel. Enough for me. Not enough for the world Kieran lived in but that was the point. 

I didn’t need marble anymore. I needed peace.

I heard footsteps in the hall and tension zoomed straight into my shoulders.

Instinctively, I knew who was coming. 

Some moments later, Kieran entered without knocking, as if we were married and in love. His gaze went straight to the papers on the bed.

“You went today,” he said.

It wasn't a question. Still, I replied, “Yes.”

His eyes flicked to my face. “You moved fast.”

“I am doing what is necessary,” I said. “Someone had to move forward.” 

He walked closer, picked up the paper describing the apartment lease, scanned it, then tossed it back onto the bed as if it irritated him.

“You already rented a place,” he said. Then his tone sharpened as he added, “So you were planning this?”

As I tried hard to control myself, I swallowed. “That is bullshit, Keiran, and you know it. You were the one who asked for a divorce.”

“And you couldn’t wait to leave,” he spatted in response.

Not believing what I was hearing, I stared at him. “Is this supposed to make me feel better? Pretending you are mad that I’m too eager to leave? Really, Keiran?”

His mouth tightened. He looked away for a beat, then back. “Where is it?”

“The petition?” I said and then glanced at the papers on the bed. “The custody paperwork is there. Everything is there.”

He reached for the papers again, flipped through them, then set them down. His movements were controlled but his jaw worked like he was holding something back.

“Seraphina, you’re rushing,” he said again in a tone that was colder now. “You could have waited until after the funeral.”

“I didn’t want your pity,” I said. I’d had enough of it disguised as care.

A brief flash crossed his eyes. Something like annoyance. Something like guilt. Then it vanished.

“I’ll send Daniel with the signed papers later,” he said.

The words hit like a door slammed in my face.

“You’ll send him,” I repeated.

He didn’t blink at the coldness in my voice. “Yes.”

Not I’ll bring him. Not we’ll do this together. Not let’s talk.

Just a cold transaction.

To hell with him!

“Fine,” I said quietly.

He paused at the doorway. “Pack quickly since that's what you want.”

Then he picked the documents and left.

I stood still for a moment, staring at the space where he had been.

Then I began to pack.

I pulled two suitcases from the closet. They were smaller than I remembered or maybe my life had just outgrown them in my head. I laid them open on the bed and stared at my clothes.

I didn’t have much here.

Not because I didn’t own things but because I hadn’t lived here like a wife. I had lived here like a visitor who stayed too long. The house never made room for me…it only tolerated me.

I went to Daniel's room and folded his clothes first. His favorite sweaters. His school uniform. The navy blazer he hated because it “itched.” His pajamas with tiny rockets. I tucked them carefully into the suitcase, smoothing each fold as if it could soothe my breaking heart.

Then I went to my room and packed my clothes. A handful of dresses. A few blouses. Jeans I rarely wore here because this house didn’t like casual. A coat I loved because Daniel said it smelled like home.

When I finished, both suitcases were only half full.

I stared at them.

Two suitcases. That was what ten years looked like. Ten years, and I could carry it all in one trip.

My phone buzzed just then.

It was Margaret.

I hesitated before answering then pressed accept.

Her voice came through in a clear, calm and pleased manner. “I heard.”

I said nothing.

“Ethan told me Kieran was finally correcting this,” she continued.

Correcting.

That was the word the woman who gave birth to me was using to describe my divorce.

My fingers tightened around the phone. “Correcting what?”

“The mistake,” she said as if she were talking about a typo. “This was never meant to happen, Seraphina. It went on too long.”

The mistake. Even Kieran had said the same thing yesterday.

I felt like throwing up. 

My throat burned even as I spoke. “My father died the day before yesterday. How can you say this?”

“Yes,” she replied. “And now things can finally return to order.”

I closed my eyes and I pictured her in her mourning clothes with an evil grin on her face. 

“You really sound happy,” I said with a tired sigh. 

“I am relieved,” she admitted. “Kieran belongs with Celeste. That is how it should have been. That is how it should be now.”

The cruelty was casual. Like a truth she had held for years and finally got permission to say. And she’d waited ten years to deliver the final blow.

“Don’t call me again,” I said.

She scoffed lightly. “You always were dramatic.”

I ended the call without saying anything else. 

My hands shook. I set the phone down and pressed my palms to my eyes until the heat of my own skin steadied me. Crying would give her satisfaction if she were to see it and because of that, I refused to let tears come to my eyes. 

A while later, I heard a knock.

I opened the door and found a staff member standing there with Daniel’s backpack. “Mr. Blackthorne asked me to give this to you,” she said quietly.

I thanked her and closed the door.

I sat on the edge of the bed, holding the backpack in my lap. It felt heavier than it should. Like it carried more than books and pencils. Like it carried every piece of my old life that still wanted to stay behind.

By late afternoon, I wheeled the suitcases down the hall. No one stopped me. No one helped. The house watched me go in silence as if it had always known I was temporary. Maybe it did.

Outside, the air was cool. My car sat in the driveway, small against the mansion’s stone facade.

I loaded the suitcases into the trunk. As I did so, the front door opened.

Kieran walked out with Daniel beside him.

I looked at him with raised eyebrows. I thought he had said he would send Daniel later with the signed documents.

What was happening?

Daniel ran toward me, wrapped his arms around my waist and held tight. “You’re really leaving,” he murmured into my coat.

“I’m taking you with me,” I said, brushing my fingers through his hair.

He pulled back to look at me and his eyes searched mine. “You promise?”

“I promise,” I said.

Behind him, Kieran stopped near the car. He held a folder in his hand. The signed papers, I assumed. 

His face was calm in that way that made me want to scream at him. How could calm look so cruel? How could it?

“You did all this without telling him,” he said calmly. 

I stared at him. “Tell him what? That you asked for a divorce? That his grandfather died? That his aunt is returning and everyone’s pretending I never existed? Tell him what, Kieran?”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t poison him.”

“I am protecting him,” I said, not flinching at his look. I was done being the villain here. 

Kieran stepped closer and his voice dropped as he said, “You stole the time I have with my son.”

Before I could respond to that, Daniel turned between us quickly, his small hands lifting as if he could physically push the tension away. “Stop,” he said. “Both of you.”

Kieran’s gaze softened instantly for Daniel. “Get in the car, son.”

Daniel looked at him. “Are you angry?”

Kieran’s expression tightened even as he answered, “No.”

Daniel tilted his head. “You look angry.”

Kieran held his gaze for a beat then crouched slightly and adjusted Daniel’s collar with a gentleness that made my stomach twist. “I’m not angry at you,” he said.

Daniel nodded slowly, then looked at me. “Can we go now?”

“Yes,” I said.

He climbed into the back seat and buckled himself in.

My heart ached as I stared at him. He was too grown for nine. Too aware. He saw everything we tried to hide.

Kieran held out the folder to me. “Everything is signed,” he said.

I took it, making sure our fingers didn’t touch. Even our distance had become deliberate.

“Drive safe,” he said with a flat tone.

I didn’t reply. I simply shut the car door to Daniel's side of the car, walked around, got into the driver’s seat, and started the engine.

As I pulled out of the driveway, I saw Kieran in the mirror. Still standing there. Still unmovable. Like the house behind him. Both prisons I was finally escaping.

Daniel, too, watched quietly as the mansion disappeared behind the trees.

When we reached the main road, he spoke. “Does Dad hate you?”

My grip tightened on the steering wheel. “No,” I said quickly and then wondered if I had spoken the truth. 

Maybe Kieran didn’t hate me, I thought with a sigh. Maybe he didn't just give a damn about me. 

I swallowed because then, I felt like indifference was the worse.

He stared out the window. “He doesn’t look like he likes how fast this is going.”

“I know,” I said.

A few minutes passed. Traffic moved around us and the city came into view, loud and alive, indifferent to everything I had lost.

“Do you hate me?” I suddenly asked my son.

Daniel turned sharply away from the window to me. “No.”

“For taking you,” I continued softly despite his answer. “For pulling you away from him…do you hate me?”

Daniel’s eyes narrowed slightly and looked thoughtful like a little man considering a deal. Then he shook his head.

“You’ve been sad for so long,” he said in a calm voice. “Maybe now you’ll be happy.”

The words broke something in me that I had been holding together till now with stubbornness and pride. 

My vision blurred. I blinked hard and kept driving, because I refused to cry in front of him but my chest ached like it couldn’t contain my heart. Children always saw the truth that adults tried to hide. They always did, damn it. 

“I’ll try,” I finally whispered.

Daniel leaned forward between the seats and rested his chin on my shoulder for a second. “I love you, mum,” he said simply.

I nodded, unable to speak. Those four words were the only home I needed.

The city swallowed us up as I thought of how I really had no family left. No name that would protect me.

But Daniel sat behind me, alive and mine.

And that would be enough.

It was enough.