Chapter 1 — The Divorce Papers

Amelia stared at the divorce papers on the marble table.

For three years, she had waited for Damian Blackwood to look at her the way he looked at everyone else.

With interest.

With warmth.

With something.

Anything.

But tonight, she finally understood.

He never would.

“Sign them.”

Damian’s voice was cold enough to freeze the air between them.

Amelia slowly lifted her eyes.

He stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of their penthouse, dressed in the black suit he had worn to another one of his endless business meetings. His tie was loosened slightly, but somehow he still looked perfectly composed.

Damian Blackwood always did.

Billionaire.

CEO.

The most powerful man in the city.

And her husband.

At least, for a few more minutes.

Amelia looked back at the papers.

PETITION FOR DIVORCE.

Her fingers tightened around the pen.

“Is this really what you want?”

Damian didn’t answer immediately.

That hurt more than if he had simply said yes.

She swallowed.

“Damian.”

His jaw tightened.

“Yes.”

One word.

That was all she got after three years of marriage.

Amelia let out a tiny laugh.

It wasn’t funny.

It was the kind of laugh people made when they were trying not to cry.

“You couldn’t even look at me when you said it.”

Damian’s eyes finally met hers.

Dark.

Unreadable.

Beautiful.

She hated that she still noticed.

“I don’t think there’s anything left to discuss.”

Amelia stared at him.

Nothing left to discuss.

She wanted to laugh again.

Three years.

Three years of sleeping beside a man who barely touched her.

Three years of preparing breakfast he rarely ate.

Three years of attending family events alone while the world whispered about the billionaire’s beautiful but unwanted wife.

Three years of making excuses for him.

Damian is busy.

Damian has a lot going on.

Damian will eventually come around.

She had defended him so many times that she’d forgotten how to defend herself.

And now he was sitting there, ending their marriage as casually as he would terminate a business contract.

“Is there someone else?” she asked quietly.

Something flickered across Damian’s face.

It was so quick that Amelia almost missed it.

Almost.

Her heart sank.

“There doesn’t need to be someone else.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Amelia—”

“Is there another woman?”

Silence.

Her chest tightened.

That silence was an answer.

She lowered her gaze before he could see the tears threatening to fall.

“Right.”

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Her head snapped up.

“Harder?”

Damian frowned.

“You’re asking me not to make this difficult after you handed me divorce papers?”

His expression remained annoyingly calm.

“We’ve both known this marriage hasn’t worked for a long time.”

We’ve?

Amelia stared at him.

“When did you ever try to make it work?”

Damian’s eyes narrowed.

“I have responsibilities.”

“And I didn’t?”

“You knew who I was when you married me.”

“No.” Amelia stood abruptly. “I knew who everyone said you were.”

Damian went still.

She wiped beneath her eye.

“They said you were arrogant. Cold. Difficult. They said you didn’t care about anyone.”

She laughed bitterly.

“I thought they were wrong.”

Damian’s face hardened.

“Amelia.”

“But they were right, weren’t they?”

“Enough.”

“No.” Her voice cracked. “For once, you’re going to listen to me.”

Damian stared at her.

Amelia’s hands trembled, but she refused to sit back down.

“You married me because your grandfather wanted you to. You made it very clear from the beginning that you didn’t love me.”

His expression didn’t change.

“But I thought…” She stopped.

Her throat tightened.

“I thought maybe I could make you love me.”

For the first time that night, Damian looked away.

That tiny movement nearly destroyed her.

Amelia took a shaky breath.

“I was stupid.”

“You weren’t stupid.”

“Then what was I?”

Damian didn’t answer.

She nodded slowly.

“Exactly.”

She picked up the pen.

Damian’s eyes immediately dropped to her hand.

Amelia looked at the signature line.

Her name was already printed there.

Amelia Blackwood.

For three years, that name had felt like a dream.

Tonight, it felt like a chain.

She signed.

One stroke.

Then another.

And finally—

Amelia Blackwood.

She placed the pen down.

Damian stared at the signature.

Something strange passed through his eyes.

Relief?

Maybe.

Amelia didn’t care anymore.

She pushed the papers toward him.

“There.”

Damian looked at her.

“You’re sure?”

The question almost made her laugh.

“Now you care whether I’m sure?”

His jaw clenched.

“I just want to make sure you’re not acting emotionally.”

Amelia stared at him for several seconds.

Then she smiled.

It was a small, heartbreaking smile.

“Don’t worry, Damian. You got exactly what you wanted.”

She turned toward the stairs.

“Amelia.”

She stopped.

She didn’t turn around.

“Where are you going?”

She closed her eyes.

Even now, he sounded irritated rather than concerned.

“Leaving.”

“This is your home.”

She finally looked over her shoulder.

“No.”

Her voice was soft.

“It was yours. I was just the woman you kept in it.”

Damian’s expression changed.

Barely.

But Amelia saw it.

She walked upstairs.

Twenty minutes later, she returned with one suitcase.

Damian was still standing in the same place.

His divorce papers were in his hand.

“You’re actually leaving tonight?”

Amelia paused.

“What did you expect? That I’d stay and make you breakfast tomorrow morning?”

His lips pressed into a thin line.

“You don’t have anywhere to go.”

She smiled.

“I’ll figure it out.”

“You can stay until you find somewhere.”

Amelia’s heart squeezed.

Not because she wanted to stay.

Because even his attempt at kindness sounded like an obligation.

“No, thank you.”

“Amelia.”

She walked toward the door.

“Stop.”

She froze.

Damian came toward her.

For a second, her foolish heart did what it had always done.

It hoped.

Maybe he would say he was sorry.

Maybe he would tell her he had changed his mind.

Maybe he’d finally admit that he loved her.

Damian stopped in front of her.

His eyes lowered to her face.

Amelia waited.

His hand moved toward her.

She instinctively held her breath.

But he only took the suitcase from her hand.

“It’s raining.”

She stared at him.

“What?”

“I’ll drive you.”

“No.”

His eyebrows drew together.

“Amelia.”

“I said no.”

She reached for her suitcase.

He didn’t give it back.

“Damian.”

His eyes hardened.

“Stop being stubborn.”

She stared at him.

Then something inside her finally snapped.

“Do you know what’s funny?”

He said nothing.

“I spent three years begging for your attention.”

Her voice trembled.

“I wanted you to notice when I changed my hair. I wanted you to ask how my day was. I wanted you to come home and actually want to see me.”

Her eyes filled.

“And now that I’m leaving, suddenly you want to drive me somewhere?”

Damian’s grip on the suitcase tightened.

“That’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it?”

He had no answer.

Amelia stepped closer.

“Tell me, Damian. What am I to you?”

His eyes met hers.

For once, she wanted the truth.

Not the polite answer.

Not the billionaire CEO answer.

The truth.

“What am I?”

Damian’s expression was unreadable.

Then he said the words that finally killed the last piece of hope inside her.

“Someone I don’t want to hurt.”

Amelia went completely still.

A tear slipped down her cheek.

She smiled.

“Too late.”

She pulled the suitcase from his hand and opened the door.

Cold rain immediately rushed inside.

Amelia stepped outside.

“Goodbye, Damian.”

The door closed.

Damian remained motionless.

He stared at it.

For some reason, the penthouse suddenly felt different.

Too quiet.

Too empty.

His eyes dropped to the divorce papers still in his hand.

He should have felt relieved.

That was what he wanted.

Freedom.

No more pretending.

No more expectations.

No more Amelia waiting for him at home.

He had finally gotten what he’d asked for.

So why did his chest feel strangely tight?

Damian frowned and shoved the thought away.

She would be fine.

Amelia had always been fine.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

His phone suddenly rang.

Damian answered.

“What?”

His assistant’s nervous voice came through.

“Sir, I’m sorry to disturb you, but there’s something you need to know.”

Damian’s expression darkened.

“What?”

“We received the results from the investigation you ordered.”

Damian went silent.

He had almost forgotten about it.

“Send them to me.”

“Sir…”

“What?”

“There is something in the report about Mrs. Blackwood.”

Damian’s eyes narrowed.

“What about her?”

A pause.

Then his assistant spoke quietly.

“Your marriage to Amelia may not have happened by coincidence.”

Damian’s entire body went still.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Sir, I think you need to see the report yourself.”

The call ended.

Damian stared at his phone.

Then his eyes moved toward the door Amelia had walked through minutes earlier.

For the first time that night, something resembling fear settled in his chest.

Because suddenly, Damian Blackwood wasn’t sure he knew his wife at all.

And somewhere in the rain, Amelia was walking away from him—

believing she had finally lost the man she loved.

She had no idea that Damian was about to discover the truth that could destroy them both.