My Pregnant Luna

No Longer Mrs. Cooley: The Architect's Return

Xiao Xiaosu

I went to the City Clerk’s office for a routine copy of my marriage license to finalize a trust fund audit. I expected a simple piece of paper, but the clerk’s pitying look told me my entire life was a lie. "The license was never finalized, Ms. Oliver. In the eyes of the state, you are single." The three-hundred-guest wedding at the Plaza and the Vogue features meant nothing. My husband, Gray Cooley, had intentionally filed the documents with a "procedural defect" so he could discard me without a legal divorce. Moments later, an iCloud invite titled "Our Little Secret" popped up on my screen. It was a photo of my best friend, Brylee, holding a positive pregnancy test at our Hamptons estate. Gray’s text to her was the final blow: "Happy anniversary, babe. This baby is the best gift. Once the trust unlocks today, we’re done with the charade." I soon discovered they were even stealing my career, reassigning my architectural masterpiece to Brylee while preparing my eviction notice. Gray's mother called me a "barren mule" in a leaked recording, mocking the infertility I suffered after saving Gray’s life in a construction accident. I wasn't a wife; I was a three-year placeholder used to secure his inheritance. How could the man I bled for treat me like a disposable prop? How could my best friend carry his child while pretending to comfort me through my darkest moments? The betrayal burned until it turned into a cold, hard stone of fury. I didn't cry. Instead, I walked into the penthouse of the Barretts, the Cooleys' most powerful rivals. I signed a marriage contract with Kane Barrett, the man the tabloids called the "Beast of Wall Street." "I want a wedding," I told his father, my voice steady and lethal. "Bigger than the one I had with Gray." If they wanted me gone, they would have to watch me become the woman who owns their world.

Modern Revenge Divorce

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I grip my book tight to my chest as I run in tears, making my way to the bathroom. The tears, clouding my eyes make it difficult for me to see properly and I bump into someone, the chocolate on my body affecting the clothes of the person.

'I'm so sorry,' I sniff, not raising my head to even see who it is. I make to leave, but an arm is outstretched in front of me and connects with the wall, preventing me from leaving. The chocolate poured on me is sticky and I want nothing more than to lock myself up in the girl's bathroom and cry my eyes out on why my life is always the most miserable.

I clean my tears and make to raise my head, but then he places his arm on my head and forces it to stay still, making me unable to see who it is, but my instincts are already screaming his name. Jonathan.

I can already tell by his veiny forearms.

'Look at you, so weak,' he tuts, giving me a condescending look. I don't raise my head to see him, but I can feel it.

'Please...' I stuttered. 'Let me go. It's itchy and I need to wash it off before it destroys my hair,' my voice cracks, I hug my book tighter.

'You don't get to go, Sera. Not until I say so,' he leans, growling into my ear and as his breath tickles my ear, I feel goosebumps rise in every part of my body, making it tremble.

'What do you want from me, Jonathan? Do you want to hit me some more or even prank me? Huh?' I look up at him this time, my heart hammering hard in my chest. This would actually be the first time I stood up to him ever since I can remember.

It seems my question catches him off guard because his eyes widen with a tiny flicker of surprise, and then it changes back to a dark look. I take a shaky breath.

'You have no idea,' he mutters, grabbing a handful of my chocolate coated hair.

'I want to break you into pieces,' his voice grows dark and I shudder because it sounds as cold as ice.

I want to ask what it means, but then he leans forward and sniffs my hair, then closes his eyes as if he is relishing the smell.

He opens his mouth to speak but before he can, a voice interrupts him.

'Well, well, well, if it isn't booger,' the voice gets near and I don't even bother to turn because I know for sure it's Whitney. A literal thorn in my flesh, in fact, the most painful one.

Jonathan steps back, still gripping my hair, he pushes it to the locker and makes to leave, but Whitney intertwines their arms together.

'Where are you going, Jonathan?' She asks, kissing him on the cheeks while staring at me.

Yeah, that's right. I don't know why, but Whitney always tries to make out with him each time in front of me. I have no idea why, but it's disgusting. Having to watch two people act lovey-dovey in front of me? Disgusting.

'You can leave,' she dismisses me.

'I never said she could leave,' his cold voice cut through, making even Whitney flinch.

'And why can't I leave?' I ask, throwing away my fears.

'Because I'm not done with you,' he says. I can feel Whitney glaring daggers at me. I ignore her.

'You know what? I'm not just some toy that you can have and do whatever you want to!' I snap and run into the girl's bathroom, locking myself in one stall.

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