Chapter four

“Mr Brooks, are you backing out of the divorce now? I didn’t think you were such a coward”. Natalie said as soon as Liam picked up.

Liam sighed, weariness creeping into his voice. “Mrs. Brooks, I don’t have the energy for your childish theatrics today. If this is just another—”

“Why don’t you come to the courthouse and find out whether I’m joking?” she snapped.

Natalie had dressed with intention that morning—a fitted, knee-length brown skirt paired with a crisp white blouse patterned in delicate florals. Her long, curly brown hair spilled down her back in soft waves. She had left her flat at dawn to make it to court on time, only to spend three frustrating hours waiting on a no-show husband.

Seven unanswered calls later, Liam finally picked up.

“So… you’re really going through with this?” His voice was quieter now, laced with disbelief. He’d assumed she was acting out of jealousy—again. Just another tantrum. But this felt different.

When Liam arrived home that Friday, he half-expected to find his father and grandmother stationed in the living room, ready to lecture him—again—about neglecting Natalie. Instead, he walked into silence. The house was empty.

Was she really serious about the divorce?

“I’ll be there,” Liam said finally, the words barely audible before he hung up.

Not long after, a familiar black car pulled up in front of the courthouse. Natalie stood at the top of the steps, divorce papers still clutched in her hand, her posture calm but unyielding. Liam stepped out of the car—and froze.

For a moment, he wasn’t sure it was her.

He had never seen Natalie like this before. Not at a family dinner, not during holidays, not even on their wedding day. The brown skirt hugged her waist perfectly, and the white floral blouse softened her silhouette, giving her a quiet elegance. Her long curls, usually tied up or pulled back, tumbled freely down her back, catching the sunlight.

She didn’t look like the woman he remembered pacing their living room in frustration or crying into a pillow after another silent argument.

She looked… composed.

“Whether you believe me or not, I honestly don’t care,” Natalie said, holding out the papers. “Here they are again. Sign them, and let’s be done with this.” She didn’t even give him a chance to speak.

For the briefest moment, something flickered across Liam’s usually unreadable face—surprise, maybe, or something deeper he quickly buried.

“Mrs. Brooks,” he said, his voice low and steady, “once I sign this, not even my father—the same one you love to throw in my face—can make me marry you again. So think carefully. Are you sure this is what you want?”

Natalie looked at him, her eyes steady on his. She searched his face for anything—doubt, hesitation, something to hold onto—but found nothing.

“Yes,” she said quietly.

“After you,” Liam replied, stepping aside.

Whatever thread of hope Natalie had been clinging to snapped in that instant. She forced a tight, bitter smile and turned toward the courthouse entrance.

What had she been expecting? That he would refuse? That he’d fight for her—for them?

He never loved her. Not once. From the very beginning, he had made that clear. This wasn’t a loss for him. If anything, he was getting exactly what he wanted.

It didn’t take long for their turn to come. A tired-looking clerk glanced up from her paperwork and studied them.

“You both look very young,” the woman said. “Is there a specific reason you’re filing for divorce?”

Natalie didn’t hesitate. “It was an arranged marriage. We don’t… love each other.”

Liam’s jaw tightened ever so slightly, but he said nothing.

“Are you sure there isn’t some kind of misunderstanding?” the elderly clerk asked gently. “You can talk to me, you know.”

Neither of them responded. Natalie kept her gaze fixed on the table; Liam stared straight ahead. After a moment of silence, the woman sighed and shook her head before continuing.

“Alright. You’ll need to return in three months to finalize everything. In the meantime, if either of you changes your mind—”

“That won’t happen. Thank you,” Natalie cut in, standing abruptly. Without another word, she walked out of the room, divorce papers pressed tightly against her chest.

Liam gave a brief nod to the clerk, then followed a few paces behind. He didn’t look at her as he passed. Outside, the sun was glaring, casting long shadows on the courthouse steps.

He slid into the backseat of the car. “Drive,” he said.

Mark glanced at him through the rearview mirror. “Sir… Miss Natalie is still outside.”

“So?” Liam replied coolly, eyes fixed ahead. “She’s the one who wanted a divorce, didn’t she?”

Still, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing back through the tinted window. She was standing alone in the sunlight, shoulders squared, face unreadable—but somehow, she looked smaller than before. Something twisted uncomfortably in his chest.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Reverse.”

Mark gave a small, knowing smile and shifted into reverse—only to brake abruptly as a sleek blue sports car whipped into the space just ahead, cutting them off.

Liam’s brows drew together.

From the driver’s side stepped a young man—well-dressed, confident, and annoyingly handsome. The same one from yesterday. He held a bouquet of fresh white lilies, his stride purposeful as he made his way toward Natalie.

Liam leaned forward slightly, curiosity sharpening into something darker.

Then it happened.

The man wrapped Natalie in a close embrace—too close—and she didn’t pull away. She didn’t even look surprised. Instead, she let herself be held, her arms slowly rising to return the gesture.

Liam’s jaw tensed. His hand clenched into a fist.

They hadn’t even been separated for thirty minutes and she was already hugging someone else? In public? With flowers?

Did she plan this?

His thoughts spiraled. What if someone saw them? What if the press got wind of it? She was still legally his wife—for God’s sake.

Mark shifted uncomfortably in the driver’s seat, sensing the storm brewing behind him. He reached for the gear stick again, prepared to drive off quietly and let it go.

But Liam’s voice cut through the silence like a blade.

“Get down,” he ordered coldly. “Bring her here.”

Mark hesitated, turning slowly. “Sir?”