CHAPTER 3

Marie’s POV

The Divorce

The discharge from the hospital felt like being evicted from a tomb. I walked out of those sterile doors with a body that felt too light and a heart that felt like a lead weight in my chest. Every step was a battle against the physical ache in my womb and the mental static of Johnson’s betrayal. But as I hailed a car, the devastation started to crystallise into a cold, hard diamond of determination.

The grief was there, raw and bleeding, but it was being paved over by a sudden, sharp clarity. I was done.

I pulled out my phone, my fingers trembling as I dialled a number I hadn’t called since the day I signed my pre-nuptial agreement.

"Mr Sterling," I said, my voice sounding like it belonged to someone else 

"I need you to meet me. Not at the office. There’s an intersection two blocks away from the Alpha’s private townhouse. Bring the file we discussed six months ago. The one I told you to keep in the 'just in case' drawer."

"Marie? Is everything alright? The news said"

"The news is a lie, Mr Sterling. Just meet me."

The drive was a blur of grey streets and rainy windows. I met him at the corner, the neon sign of a nearby diner flickering against the sleek black leather of his briefcase. He looked at me with a pity that made me want to scream, but he handed over the heavy manila envelope without a word. I gripped it against my chest, the only shield I had left.

Entering the house felt like stepping back into a cage, but the silence was different this time. 

I sat in the darkened living room, the divorce papers resting on the mahogany coffee table in front of me. I didn't turn on the lights. I just sat there, watching the shadows stretch across the floor as the hours ticked by.

It was nearly midnight when the front door swung open.

Laughter drifted in first, light, melodic, and sickeningly familiar. Then came the scent: Johnson’s cedarwood and Marie’s cloying floral perfume. They stepped into the foyer, frozen for a split second when they realised the house wasn't empty.

Johnson flicked the light switch, the sudden glare making me wince. His face shifted instantly from a smile to a mask of pure, unadulterated fury.

"What the hell are you doing here, Marie ?" he barked, stepping toward me. He didn't ask how I was. He didn't ask about the surgery. Instead, his eyes immediately darted toward the windows, then toward the hallway, his head tilted as if listening for the shutter of a camera or the whisper of a servant. He was hunting for "other eyes," searching for the press he had spent years courting.

"Why aren't you in the hospital?" he demanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous hiss when he realised we were alone. 

"The discharge papers said you were to remain under observation. If a reporter sees you walking around like this, it ruins the entire narrative of who I am, who the clan sees me as! Why are you here?!”

Marie stood behind him, smoothing her skirt, her eyes gleaming with a triumphant malice she didn't bother to hide now that the cameras were gone.

I let out a dry, hollow laugh that seemed to echo off the expensive crown moulding.

"The narrative," I whispered, shaking my head.

 "It’s always the story with you, isn't it, Johnson? You’re so worried about the 'fragile mate' that you forgot I’m a human being."

"Watch your tone," he warned, stepping into my personal space, his Alpha aura flared in an attempt to cow me.

"I’m not going to do it anymore, Johnson," I said, looking up at him, my eyes steady for the first time in years. 

"I’m not going to let you turn me into a living television. I’m not a screen you can use to broadcast your perfect leader image while you secretly reignite your childhood love in the wings."

I glanced at Doreen, who stiffened. Johnson looked genuinely confused, his brow furrowing as if I were speaking a language he had never heard.

"What are you talking about? You’ve gone crazy. The trauma has clearly"

"The trauma has cleared my vision," I interrupted. I slid the manila envelope across the table toward him. The white paper inside seemed to glow under the LED lights.

 "I’m releasing you from the script, Johnson. You don't have to pretend to want an orphaned Beta, and I don't have to pretend that I’m not dying inside every time you touch me."

Johnson stared at the bold lettering at the top of the page. Petition for Dissolution of Marriage.

He looked back at me, his jaw dropping slightly. The confusion was quickly being replaced by an ego-bruised rage.

 "You think you can just... leave? Do you have any idea what this will do to the pack's stability? To my reputation?"

"I don't care about your reputation. I don't care about your clan. And I certainly don't care about your stability,” 

"Can you sign the divorce papers now?"