Chapter 3: Flashbulbs and Final Signatures

The courthouse steps were slick with leftover rain when I stepped out of the black SUV.

Cameras flashed before my foot even hit the pavement.

“Ms. Voss! Elena! Over here!”

Voices shouted my name as they owned it. Phones and lenses shoved forward, bodies pressing in from every side. I pulled the hood of my coat up higher, but it didn’t matter. They already knew why I was here.

I kept my head down and moved fast toward the entrance. Security parted the crowd just enough for me to slip through. The noise dropped the second the heavy glass doors closed behind me, muffled now, like bees behind thick glass.

My lawyer, Claire, waited inside the lobby. Tall, sharp suit, sharper eyes. She handed me a coffee without asking if I wanted it.

“You look like hell,” she said.

“Thanks.” I took a sip. It burned my tongue. Good. I needed the sting.

She glanced at her watch. “Nine-fifteen. We’re early. The judge’s clerk said we can go straight to the signing room. Damian’s lawyer confirmed he’ll be here by nine-thirty.”

I nodded. My stomach twisted anyway.

We walked down the quiet hallway. Marble floors echoed every step. Claire kept her voice low.

“Preliminary agreement is straightforward. You keep what’s yours from before marriage. He keeps his real estate holdings. No alimony requested. No kids. Clean split.”

Clean.

The word tasted wrong.

We reached a small conference room. A long table, two chairs on each side, and a notary already seated with a stack of papers. The clerk nodded politely and left us alone.

I sat. Claire sat across from me.

“You sure about this?” she asked one last time.

I looked at the blank signature line waiting for my name.

“No,” I said. “But I’m doing it anyway.”

She didn’t argue. Just slid the first set of documents toward me.

I signed. Page after page. My hand didn’t shake. Not anymore.

Each stroke felt like cutting a thread I’d spent years tying tighter around my own throat.

Nine-thirty came and went.

Nine-forty.

Claire checked her phone. “His lawyer just texted. Traffic. Five more minutes.”

I stared at the wall. A framed photo of the city skyline hung crooked. I wanted to fix it. Stupid thought.

The door opened.

Not Damian.

His lawyer, middle-aged, expensive suit, fake tan, walked in alone. He looked uncomfortable.

“Ms. Voss,” he said. “Mr. Black is stuck in gridlock near Times Square. Construction. He asked if we could wait another ten.”

Claire’s eyebrow lifted. “We’ve waited ten already.”

I spoke before she could. “No more waiting.”

The lawyer shifted. “He’s on his way. He wants to be here for this.”

“He had four years to be here,” I said quietly. “He can sign later.”

Claire nodded to the notary. “Proceed.”

I signed the last page. The notary stamped. Witnessed. Done.

The papers felt heavier than they should have when she slid them into the envelope.

Claire stood. “We’re finished here.”

I stood too. My legs felt strange, like they belonged to someone else.

The lawyer cleared his throat. “Mr. Black will contest if.”

“Contest what?” I cut in. “I didn’t ask for a dime. Tell him to sign when he gets here. Or don’t. Doesn’t change anything.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Nodded once.

We walked out.

The hallway felt longer on the way back. Claire stayed quiet. Smart woman.

When we pushed through the front doors, the paparazzi had doubled.

Flashes exploded again. Questions hit like bullets.

“Elena! Is the divorce final?”

“Did Damian cheat?”

“Are you seeing someone new?”

I kept my eyes forward. Security flanked me, now two big guys from my father’s team. They cleared a path to the waiting SUV.

I was almost at the door when I heard tires screech.

A black Range Rover pulled up hard at the curb. The door flew open.

Damian stepped out.

No coat. Shirt sleeves rolled up. Hair messy from running his hands through it. His face God, his face, was raw. Eyes wide, jaw tight, breathing fast like he’d sprinted the last block.

“Elena!”

The cameras swung toward him. More flashes.

He pushed through the crowd. Security tried to block him. He didn’t care.

He reached me just as my hand touched the SUV door.

“Wait,” he said. Voice hoarse. “Please.”

I turned slowly.

Up close, he looked wrecked. Shadows under his eyes. A cut on his lip, probably from biting it too hard. Rain had started again, light but steady. Drops clung to his lashes.

“I got here as fast as I could,” he said.

“Too late.”

He reached for my arm. I stepped back.

“Don’t.”

His hand dropped. “You signed.”

“Yes.”

“Without me.”

“You weren’t here.”

He laughed short, broken. “I was stuck. I swear. I tried.”

“I know.” My voice stayed calm even though my heart hammered. “That’s the problem. You’re always trying after.”

He looked at the envelope in Claire’s hand like it was a bomb.

“Let me sign too,” he said. “We can still.”

“No.” I shook my head. “It’s done.”

His eyes searched mine. Desperate. Possessive. The same look he gave me last night when he kissed me like he could keep me by force.

“You think this ends us?” he asked quietly.

“It ends the marriage.”

He stepped closer. Rain dripped from his hair onto his collar. “I don’t want this.”

“Then you should’ve thought about that before you climbed into bed with her.”

The words landed. He flinched.

The cameras caught every second. I could already see tomorrow’s headlines.

BILLIONAIRE HEIRESS DIVORCES REAL ESTATE MOGUL IN TEARS, CHEATING SCANDAL?

I didn’t care.

“I have to go,” I said.

“Where?”

“Home.” I paused. “My home.”

His jaw worked. “You’re going to your father’s?”

“For now.”

He swallowed hard. “I’ll come see you tomorrow. We’ll talk.”

“No.”

“Elena”

“I said no.”

He stared at me like I’d slapped him again.

Then his gaze dropped to my lips. For one horrible second, I thought he might kiss me right there in front of everyone. Claim me one last time.

Instead, he leaned in, voice so low only I could hear.

“You can run,” he whispered. “But you’ll never outrun me. Not in this city. Not in your head. Not in your bed when you wake up, reaching for me.”

My breath caught.

He pulled back. Eyes locked on mine. Unblinking.

Then he turned and walked away through the flashing lights.

I climbed into the SUV. Door shut. The world muffled again.

Claire slid in beside me. “You okay?”

I stared out the window. Damian disappeared into the crowd, shoulders hunched against the rain.

“No,” I said. “But I will be.”

The driver pulled away.

I pressed my forehead to the cool glass.

My phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

I opened it.

One photo.

Me, signing the papers ten minutes ago.

Someone had been inside the courthouse.

Under the image, three words:

He’s watching you.

My fingers went cold.

I looked back through the rear window.

Damian stood on the steps now, staring after the car.

Even from here, I could see the way his fists clenched.

The SUV turned the corner.

He vanished from sight.

But I knew he wasn’t gone.

Not even close.

And the worst part?

Some small, stupid piece of me still wanted him to chase.