His Unwanted Wife, My New Dawn

ODSON

ece together the mangled fragments of my grandmother' s locket. My fingers trembled, thick with the we

ome to my room unbidden. A strange flicker of something-was it concern? Regret?-crossed his face, quickly rep

ce flat. He pointed at my wrist, where I

is was his version of an apology. A sterile kit, deliver

wall behind me, avoiding my eyes. "She shouldn' t have damaged

e still saw everything in transactional terms, everything replaceable, purchasable. The memory of my g

ess. And it' s gone." I looked up at him, my eyes steady, unblinking. The man stan

aps a brief, almost imperceptible shame-crossed his face. "Well. It' s done now. There' s

ings were paramount. My grandmother' s dying wish, my cherished memory,

mangled locket, reached for the stack of divorce papers I had retrieved from

I said, my voice ste

ignature across the document, and handed them back. His movements were swift, efficient, as if signing away six years of his life was

s brisk, almost a hasty retreat. He di

triumph and profound sorrow washing over me. The knot in my stomach untangle

the old art supplies I had hidden away, a few pieces of clothing I had bought before our marriage. My gaze

ere lit up, filled with laughing people. Colorful streamers adorned

wore gloves to touch doorknobs, was hosting a massive birthday party for Isabel. He had broken every single one of his rigid rules

undeniable proof that I had meant absolutely nothing to him. But now, it didn' t hurt.

ke a queen holding court. Killian stood beside her, his hand resting possessiv

w. Her triumphant smile faltered, replaced by a flash of annoyance.

eassurance, then called over a security guard. My heart, which I th

thday! I don' t want her looking at me like that! She' s ruining everything! Make her go away!" She stamped her

r face buried in his chest. "Isabel is right," he said, his voice carrying clearly even over

their happiness? A part of me, the part that still remembered pride, wan

ick me flowers from the old rose garden on the back hill. She always hated that climb. It' ll be a nice, fresh bouquet fo

od idea, my love. Guards! Take Mrs. Rutledge to t

this was a step too far. Their horrified whispers reached my ears, b

ice raw, "do you really me

company to face a hostile takeover, Ava? Because I assure you, my con

ays did. The thought of my aging father, his life' s work

le protested with every step, the pain a searing fire. The thorny bushes tore at my clothes, my skin. I struggled up the steep incline, s

ocial media, was probably live-streaming my humiliation. I imagin

bbornly to life. I picked them, my fingers numb, the thorns digging deep

awkwardly, my ankle twisting, fresh pain exploding through me. I lay there for a moment, gasping, my body

with mud and tears, my dress in tatters, my body a map of fresh cuts and bruise

l, my love, you deserve better than this." He turned to the microphone. "Tonight," he announced, his voice booming through the speakers, "I want to make it

nce, were the final nail in the coffin. My heart, that stone in my chest, felt nothing.

ng the broken locket, now felt surprisingly strong. I had nothing left to lose. He

papers, already signed by Killian, against my chest. This time, I didn' t look back. There was nothing there for me. Nothing but ashes and a