All Chapters of I Want A Divorce: Chapter 211 - Chapter 220

DARIUSThe storm is getting worse.I stand at the living room window watching lightning illuminate everything in white flashes. The rain hits the glass so hard it sounds like someone's throwing gravel at the house."It's really coming down," Sera says from behind me.I turn to find her standing in the middle of my living room with her arms wrapped around herself, looking uncertain in a way that makes me want to cross the space and pull her close."You okay?" I ask."Yeah. Just—" She glances at the window as thunder rumbles through the house. "It's a lot.""Wine?""Please."I head to the kitchen and pour us both glasses of the red I've been saving. When I come back, she's perched on the edge of my couch like she's not sure if she's allowed to get comfortable."Relax," I say, handing her a glass. "You're going to be here for a while."She takes a sip, her eyes meeting mine over the rim. "How long do you think?""Few hours at least." I settle onto the opposite end of the couch, trying to

SERAThe roar of the crowd is muffled backstage but I can still feel it—a living thing that vibrates through the walls, the floor, my chest."Five minutes, Ms. Smith." The stage manager appears at my elbow with her headset and clipboard. "How are you feeling?"My hands are shaking. I press them flat against my thighs, trying to still the tremor. "Good. Great. Terrified."She grins. "That's the spirit."Lincoln Center. Sold out. Three thousand seats filled with people who paid to hear me play. The final performance of a tour that's consumed the last four months of my life.I should be more nervous about the performance itself—the technical passages, the emotional pieces, the new composition I'm debuting tonight. But all I can think about is that Darius and Luna are out there in the audience.Third row center. Where he always sits when he comes.Luna had begged to come even though it's a school night and way past her bedtime. Darius had looked at me with raised eyebrows, leaving the dec

VIVIENNEThe mandatory therapy is a joke.I sit in Dr. Patterson's office every Tuesday and Thursday, saying what she wants to hear. Yes, I'm processing my emotions. Yes, I understand my actions had consequences. Yes, I'm committed to moving forward in a healthy way.She writes it all down, nodding like she's accomplished something.She has no idea.The probation officer is easier. Community service at a soup kitchen, checking in weekly, staying away from Sera Jennings-Smith. That's the restraining order—five hundred feet minimum. No contact, no attempts at communication.I agreed to everything. Signed all the papers. Smiled and thanked the judge for her leniency.Because jail would have been worse. This way, I'm free to move. Free to plan.Free to watch.I scroll through my phone in my studio apartment—smaller than a closet, all I can afford now—and pull up Sera's Instagram. She doesn't post often, but when she does it's always the same nauseating content.Tour photos. Her at the pia

DARIUS Henderson is mid-sentence about a project when my phone lights up on the conference table. Sera's name. Third call in two minutes. "Excuse me." I grab the phone and step out of the conference room, already moving toward my office. "Sera, what—" "Luna's missing." Her voice is wrecked, barely recognizable. "She's gone. Vivienne has her. She's—" The rest of her words dissolve into sobbing. My brain stops processing. Just—stops. Like someone pulled a plug and everything shut down at once. "Where are you?" I'm already grabbing my jacket, my keys. Connor looks up from his desk with wide eyes as I blow past. "Riverside Park West." Sera's trying to talk through gasps. "The police are here but she sent a video and—Darius, she has her. Vivienne has our daughter and—" "I'm coming. Stay there. I'm coming right now." I run to the elevator. Stab the button. The doors take too long to open so I take the stairs instead, my dress shoes slipping on the polished concrete as I fly down fi

SERAOn day one, the door opens and light floods the small room, so bright after hours of darkness that I have to squeeze my eyes shut against it.Vivienne's silhouette fills the doorway. She's not alone.Two men step in behind her—large, heavy-set, faces I don't recognize. They don't speak. Just stand there like guards while Vivienne crouches down in front of me."Good morning," she says pleasantly, like we're meeting for coffee.Luna is pressed against the far wall, her knees pulled to her chest, eyes huge and terrified."Please," I start, my voice hoarse from screaming yesterday. "Please don't do this in front of her—"Vivienne grabs my face, her nails digging into my cheeks. "She needs to see. She needs to understand what happens when you take things from people."She nods at the men. They move forward and grab my arms, hauling me up. I try to fight but my hands are still zip-tied behind my back and my legs barely work after sitting on concrete all night."Hold her," Vivienne says