The Divorce Contract

There are a lot of things you can survive if you learn how to look pretty while breaking.In front of the camera, I wore a smile like armor. My lipstick didn’t smudge, my heels didn’t shake, and my voice didn’t crack, not even when the press asked me the same question for the fifth time.“Zephyra, is it true you slept with your sister’s fiancé?”Click. Flash. Flash.My smile didn’t move. I tilted my head slightly, the way I was trained to. “Next question.”It didn’t matter how many times I said I wouldn’t answer it. They already made up their minds. Headlines spread faster than truth ever could."Socialite Zephyra Corvan in Fiancé-Stealing Scandal!From Heiress to Homewrecker—The Downfall of Zephyra Corvan"They loved to hate me. I gave them a show, and they devoured it.What they didn’t know was… it wasn’t my story to explain. It never was.Three days after the scandal exploded, I walked into my family’s mansion with shaking knees and a stubborn chin held high. Every step on the marb

The contract sat in front of me like a trap dressed in velvet.Thick pages. Crisp corners. A golden pen clipped to the side, as if they wanted to make betrayal look elegant.I was alone in his penthouse office. Morning sunlight spilled through the tall windows, but the warmth didn’t touch me. It was quiet... too quiet. Just the sound of my nails tapping against the edge of the leather folder, my thoughts twisting tighter with each clause I read.No real intimacy.I blinked, reading the line again. My lips twitched into something close to a scoff. I don’t know why I expected anything else. Of course he’d keep this cold. Professional. Mechanical. Like he was buying a business merger, not a wife.No public outbursts.I rolled my eyes. As if I was some wild creature he needed to cage.No falling in love.That one? That one made me laugh.It was in italics, like some sick joke. No falling in love as if he thought I’d look into his deadpan expression, trace his perfect jawline, and suddenly

I didn’t expect the penthouse to feel like this. When I imagined Koven’s home, I thought of sleek lines, polished surfaces, and luxury that suffocated you with its perfection. But standing here, I realized it wasn’t just the house that felt cold—it was him.The door to the penthouse opened with a quiet swish, and I stepped in, feeling the weight of the silence settle around me. The space was stunning, the kind of beauty that made you feel small. It wasn’t just a home; it was a fortress.Koven was already inside, of course. He didn’t wait for me. He never did.“Your room is down the hall,” he said, barely looking at me as he passed.I nodded, following his lead, my footsteps echoing in the vastness of the place. Everything was pristine. Too pristine. Like a museum that was never meant to be touched.When I reached the guest room, I hesitated. The door was already open, and the room was everything I could expect—expensive but cold, with no personal touch to make it feel like a home. No

The clock blinked 2:47 AM in angry red numbers when I opened my eyes.The bed felt too cold, too wide. Sleep clung to my skin like a second, unwanted layer, but something heavier pulled me up.I pushed the silk covers away and stepped onto the cool marble floor. The night air brushing my legs made me shiver, but it wasn’t the cold that kept me restless—it was something else.Something that had been building ever since the gala, ever since Koven pinned me with that impossible look.I didn’t even know where I was going at first.My feet moved on their own, dragging me through the darkened penthouse until the silver glint of the balcony caught my eye.The glass door was cracked open. The wind tugged at the sheer curtains like ghostly hands. I pushed them aside and slipped out into the night.And there he was.Koven leaned against the iron railing, shirtless, a cigarette dangling between two fingers. Smoke curled around him, soft and slow, blurring the sharp lines of his body into somethi