chapter 2

Sonia

“What?”

I blinked, certain I had heard him wrong.

Nathan stood across from me, calmly adjusting the cuff of his expensive shirt as though we were discussing an ordinary business matter instead of the eight-year marriage we had built together.

“I said that I do not want this marriage anymore.”

For several seconds, I could not breathe.

The room seemed to tilt beneath my feet, and I had to grip the edge of the table to keep myself steady.

“No,” I whispered.

“Sonia," Nathan sighed impatiently. "I have made my decision, and it is final.”

“Nathan, please. Whatever this is, we can talk about it.”

“There is nothing left to discuss.” he retorted.

“After eight years?” My voice trembled as tears filled my eyes. “You are leaving me after eight years?”

“Yes.” The word came of his mouth without hesitation.

I stared at the man I had loved for eight years, trying to find even a trace of the man I had married.

Then I looked at Annabelle.

She stood several feet away from us, her hands clasped nervously in front of her. She had been unusually quiet and she refused to meet my eyes.

Suddenly, the pieces came together. I slowly turned my gaze back to Nathan.

“Is it her?”

Neither of them answered. Nathan's silence was enough.

My heart broke so quietly that nobody else could hear it.

“Is this because I added weight?”I swallowed the painful lump in my throat.

Nathan's expression remained cold.

He did not deny it. He did not tell me that I was beautiful. He did not tell me that my body had never changed how he felt about me.

He simply looked away.

That hurt more than an insult could have.

I nodded slowly. “Okay.” The word barely came out.

I did not know why I said it.

Perhaps because there was nothing else left to say.

Nathan reached for his coat.

“And you do not need to worry about the company,” he said. “Annabelle will be taking your position beside me.”

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. It sounded more like a sob.

“I built that company with you, Nathan.”

“You helped me with the company.”

“I worked beside you for years.”

“And I appreciate that.”

“You appreciate it?” My voice broke. “I gave up my career for you. I put my own dreams aside because you told me that you needed me.”

“I never asked you to give up your career.” Nathan's expression hardened.

“You told me that you needed my support.”

“I just needed support, Sonia. That is different.”

I stared at him. Something inside me cracked.

For eight years, I had believed that we were partners. I had believed that every sacrifice I made was a sacrifice for our family and our future.

Now he was standing in front of me and reducing everything I had done to nothing.

Nathan turned toward the door.

“Nathan.” I called.

He stopped.

I wiped the tears from my cheeks and stared at his back.

There was one question I still needed answered.

“Did you ever love me?”

He did not turn around. For some reason, his refusal to face me hurt more than any answer he could have given.

After several seconds, he finally spoke. “I loved the woman you used to be.”

Then he walked out.

The door closed behind him and I stood there, staring at it as tears streamed silently down my face.

Annabelle remained in the room.

For several seconds, neither of us spoke.

Then she took a hesitant step toward me.

“Sonia, I am sorry.”

I looked at her. Whatever she saw in my eyes made her stop.

I did not want her apology and her sympathy.

Most of all, I did not want to hear her pretend that she was sorry for taking the place I had spent eight years building beside Nathan.

So I walked past her without saying a word.

I climbed the stairs slowly and entered the bedroom that had once been ours.

The moment the door closed behind me, my knees gave way.

I collapsed onto the floor. For the first time, I allowed myself to completely break.

I cried until my chest hurt. I cried until my head throbbed.

Three hours later, I heard the bedroom door open.

I lifted my swollen eyes. Nathan stood in the doorway.

Beside him was a man wearing a dark suit and carrying a leather briefcase.

A lawyer.

My stomach dropped.

Nathan did not even look at me.

The lawyer walked into the room and placed a thick stack of documents on the bed.

“Mrs. Bennett, these are the divorce and property settlement documents.”

I stared at him. “Already?” my voice was barely audible.

I looked at Nathan.

He said nothing.

My fingers trembled as I picked up the first document.

As I turned through the pages, my heart sank.

These documents had not been prepared that afternoon.

They had been prepared before tonight.

Nathan had planned this.

Perhaps he had been planning it for weeks or months.

Maybe the entire time I had been sleeping beside him, believing that we were still husband and wife, he had been preparing to destroy the life we built together.

I turned another page. Then another. My eyes stopped at the section concerning our property and I saw that nothing was left for me. Not even my savings account because it was connected to the company.

My breathing became uneven. I turned toward the lawyer.

“What do I get?”

The lawyer hesitated.

I already knew I would not like his answer.

“Mrs. Bennett, the prenuptial agreement you signed before your marriage provides that Mr. Bennett's premarital business interests, investments, and property acquired before and during the marriage would remain his separate property.”

I stared at him.

The prenup.

God, I remembered it.

Eight years ago, Nathan had placed those papers in front of me before our wedding.

He had told me that his family had always protected their wealth through legal agreements and that signing the prenup was simply part of protecting the company he had inherited from his father.

I was twenty-three and completely in love with him.

I trusted him more than I trusted myself. So I signed it without thinking twice.

I looked at Nathan. “But I worked for that company.”

“You were never an owner.”

“I helped build it.”

“You contributed to it.”

“I built the security infrastructure. I designed systems that the company still uses today.”

“You were helping your husband.”

“I worked there without taking a salary for years.”

“You chose to do that.”

“You know why I did it.” My lips parted in disbelief.

Nathan remained emotionless. “You only support your husband,” he said coldly.

I stared at him.

The lawyer lowered his eyes. Even he seemed uncomfortable.

I looked back at the documents. Every page seemed to contain another piece of my life that Nathan had managed to keep away from me.

The house belonged to him. The cars belonged to him. The investment accounts belonged to him. The company belonged to him.

Even though I had spent years working beside him, the legal documents made it clear that I had never been given an ownership stake.

My stomach twisted. “And my personal bank account?”

Nathan answered before the lawyer could.

“Your account was connected to the company financial structure.”

I stared at him.

“So what do I have?”

Nobody answered.

I laughed bitterly. “What exactly am I leaving with?”

The lawyer shifted uncomfortably. “Your personal belongings and clothing, Mrs. Bennett.”

I looked around the bedroom. The room suddenly felt like someone else's.

Eight years of my life had been reduced to paperwork.

I looked at Nathan. “You planned this.”

His jaw tightened. “I planned to protect what belonged to me.”

“What belonged to you?” I laughed through my tears. “I gave you eight years of my life. I gave up my career for you. I stood beside you when nobody believed in you.”

“I did not ask you to.” he replied.

“I believed in you.” My voice broke.

For the first time, Nathan looked away.

That hurt more than anything.

I looked down at the papers. There was nothing left to fight for. At least, not tonight.

I picked up the pen. My hand shook so badly that I almost dropped it.

The lawyer quietly showed me where to sign.

Every signature felt like I was burying another piece of myself.

When I finally finished, I pushed the documents across the bed.

“There.”

Nathan collected the papers. He did not say goodbye. He did not apologize. He did not tell me that he was sorry for destroying eight years of my life.

He simply turned around and walked out.

I listened to his footsteps disappear down the hallway.

Then I heard the front door close. That was it.

Eight years were gone.