Chapter 17 Fragments of Divorce Fopers
Chapter 17 Fragments of Divorce Papers
Mia’s POV
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My hands trembled as I reached for my bag, fingers brushing against the manila envelope inside. The divorce papers felt beary. weighted with more than just legal terms and conditions. They represented freedom- or at least, they should have.
“I’ve made my decision,” I said quietly, pulling out the envelope. The hospital room seemed to shrink around us, the r growing thick with tension.
Kyle’s eyes fixed on the envelope, his jaw tightening. “What is that?”
“You know what it is.” I held the papers out, my voice steadier than I felt. “I’ve already signed them.”
His laugh was harsh, echoing off the sterile walls. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’ve never been more serious.” I stepped closer, forcing him to take the envelope. “It’s over, Kyle. Whatever this was between us – the contract, the pretense, all of it. It’s done.”
Kyle’s fingers closed around the envelope, but instead of opening it, he moved to the window. The setting sun cast his profile in sharp relief, highlighting the tension in his shoulders.
“And your mother?” His voice was deceptively soft. “How do you plan to pay for her care?”
The question hit like a physical blow, but I forced myself to stand straight. “I’ll figure something out.”
“Will you?” He turned then, his eyes storm–dark. “Do you have any idea how much specialized neurological care costs?”
“Don’t do this.”
“Do what?” He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “State facts? Your mother needs round–the–clock care, experimental treatments, specialized equipment. None of which you can afford on a secretary’s salary.”
“I’ll get another job. I’ll-”
“You’ll what?” His voice turned cruel. “Sell your art? The same art you haven’t touched in years? Or maybe you’ll run to your new friend at that design firm? Is that your plan?”
“Stop it.”
“No, you stop it.” In one fluid motion, he ripped the envelope open, pulling out the papers. “This schoolgirl fantasy of independence ends now.”
“They’re already signed,” I said, watching as his eyes scanned the documents. “All you have to do is-”
The sound of ripping paper cut through the air like gunfire. I watched, frozen, as Kyle tore the divorce papers to shreds, pieces falling like snow around our feet.
“No.” His voice was ice. “You want to talk about contracts? Fine. You signed one three years ago. Five years of marriage, that was the deal. You don’t get to walk away now.”
“You can’t do this.”
“I can, and I will.” He moved closer, backing me against the wall. “You’re my wife, Mia. That doesn’t end just because you’ve
decided to throw a tantrum.”
“A tantrum?” Anger gave me courage. “Is that what you call this? Wanting freedom from a loveless marriage?”
“Love has nothing to do with it.”
“No,” I laughed bitterly. “It never did, did it? Not with you.”
His phone buzzed – Taylor’s ringtone, of course. But for once, he didn’t reach for it.
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Chapter 17 Fragments of Divorce Papers
+25 BONUS
“Your mother’s treatment costs fifty thousand dollars a month,” he said instead, each word precise and cutting. “The experimental procedures she needs? Another hundred thousand. The specialized equipment? Two hundred thousand minimum.
Each number felt like a nail in my coffin. “Stop.”
“The best neurologists in the country, the private nursing staff, the-”
“I said stop!”
“Or what?” He caught my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze. “You’ll run away? Leave her here to die while you chase some childish dream of true love?”
Tears burned in my eyes. “You’re cruel.”
“I’m practical.” His thumb brushed my lower lip, the gesture almost gentle. “And right now, being my wife is the only thing keeping your mother alive.”
The truth of his words settled like lead in my stomach. Behind us, the monitors tracking Mom’s vitals beeped steadily, a reminder of everything at stake.
“Why?” I whispered. “Why do you even want this marriage? You have Taylor. You’ve always had Taylor.”
Something flickered in his eyes – doubt? Pain? – but before he could respond, alarms began blaring. Mom’s monitors were screaming, the steady beep turning into a frantic wail.
“No,” I breathed, pushing past Kyle. “No, no, no!”
Medical staff rushed in, their voices urgent and professional.
“Blood pressure dropping!”
“Oxygen levels critical!”
“Get a crash cart in here!”
I tried to reach Mom’s bed, but Kyle held me back. “Let them work
“Let go of me!” I struggled against his grip. “Mom! Please, Mom, don’t leave me!”
The doctors worked frantically. My legs gave out. If not for Kyle’s arms around me, I would have collapsed.
“She needs surgery,” one of the doctors said, turning to us. “Right now. There’s no time to waste.”
I nodded numbly, unable to form words.
“The cost-” the doctor began, but Kyle cut him off.
“Do whatever’s necessary. Money isn’t an issue.”
They wheeled Mom away, leaving me standing in Kyle’s arms, surrounded by shreds of divorce papers and shattered dreams. “You win,” I whispered, my voice hollow. “You win, Kyle. I’ll stay. I’ll honor the contract. Just… just save her. Please.”
His arms tightened around me, but I felt nothing. No warmth, no comfort, just the cold reality of my situation. I’d tried to escape one prison only to find myself trapped in another.
Mom’s empty bed seemed to mock me, the rumpled sheets still warm from her body. On the floor, pieces of the divorce papers fluttered in the air conditioning – freedom scattered like confetti at a funeral.
“I’ll have Linda handle the paperwork for your mother’s surgery,” Kyle said, his voice businesslike again, “You should go home,
rest.”
I couldn’t even laugh at the irony. Home. As if that cold mansion where he kept me like a pretty puppet could ever be home.
Chapter 17 Fragments of Divorce Papers
“Mia.” His voice softened slightly. “You need to take care of yourself.”
“Like you care.” I pulled away from him, gathering the torn pieces of the divorce papers.
His phone buzzed again.
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“I’ll have my driver take you home,” he said, already turning away already becoming the Kyle I knew – distant, cold, controlled.
“I’ll wait for my mom.” I murmured. He didn’t hear me.
I watched him walk away, speaking softly into his phone, no doubt soothing Taylor’s concerns. The sun had set completely now, leaving the hospital room in shadows.
Some chains, it seems, are forged by love. Others by necessity. Both, I was learning, were equally impossible to break.
