Freya’s POV
+8 Pearls
<b>“</b>You’re moving out?” Caelum’s voice cracked slightly, disbelief and something sharper–territorial anger–hiding beneath the
calm.
<b>“</b><b>Yes</b>. Do you really think after everything that happened, I’d continue living here?” I said, my voice even, controlled. “Besides, it won’t be long before the divorce is finalized. I’m just moving out a few days early.”
He froze, eyes narrowing. “A few days? You mean that ridiculous contract with my mother? That signature… she tricked me into signing it without my knowledge. I never never wanted to divorce you!”
I didn’t flinch. “Whether you knew or not doesn’t matter. What matters is that I want a divorce. I’m done, Caelum.”
His gaze darkened, jealousy ring for a brief, human instant. “Is this because of Ss? Because you found someone better than me?
I couldn’t help the bitterugh that escaped me. “Caelum, when I married you, you were penniless. Every cent for your business, your start–up, came from me. If I were chasing status, I wouldn’t have chosen you.”
The color drained from his face. I could see him remembering those early days, a young wolf struggling for territory, underestimated by everyone. And yet, I had given him respect, belief, a tether to cling to. His proposal had been less about love than grasping at that lifeline I offered.
“Then if it’s not Ss, <b>is </b>it… the one hundred million your mother promised you?” His gaze drilled into me, sharp, demanding.
I met it evenly. “I’m exhausted. Three years of this marriage drained me–every ounce of patience, every shred of my feelings for you. That’s why I’m leaving, that’s why I want a divorce.”
<b>I </b>said it calm, measured, almost cold. Even my eyes, when they met his, betrayed nothing.
But <b>I </b>could feel it–the Alpha wolf inside him stirring, panic<b>, </b>betrayal, and an aching possessiveness flooding his chest<b>, </b>coiling down his limbs. His hands glistened with cold <b>sweat</b>.
<b>“</b>You.. you <b>have </b>no feelings for me<b>?</b>” His voice trembled, though he tried to mask it.
<b>“</b>Yes. Nothing left,” I said inly.
The <b>sh </b>of <b>rage </b>and disbelief on his face was instantaneous<b>, </b>raw.
<b>“</b><b>All </b><b>because </b>of my mother and <b>sister</b>? Sure<b>, </b>they plotted against <b>you</b>–but what about you? You plotted too, didn’t you?” He was shouting now<b>, </b>ws of frustration raking the air. “You recorded everything with <b>the </b>cameras, yed it in the banquet hall… you could <b>have </b>warned me <b>earlier</b>, avoided <b>all </b>this<b>!</b><b>” </b>
“I did <b>call</b>,” I said, voice cutting through the room.
“What?” His <b>eyes </b>widened.
“At first. When your mother and Giselle were nning their… <b>vile </b>scheme, I called you. If you had answered, none of <b>this </b>would have happened<b>. </b>Things could have ended the way you wanted. But you didn’t<b>.</b><b>” </b>
He froze, realization and guilt hammering against <b>his </b><b>chest</b><b>. </b>He remembered the call, the banquet hall, the live feed <b>shing </b>on the screens<b>… </b>and he had ignored it, letting his pride, his <b>fear </b>of me making <b>a </b>scene, and Aurora’s presence override instinct.
“If you’d taken that call…” His jaw tightened, regret slicing through his Alpha pride.
called. You didn’t answer because, deep down, you never truly cared about me. My calls meant nothing <b>to </b>you. And your family? They treated me with the same disdain,” I said, each word precise, <b>sharp</b>.
“Freya… I’m sorry! <b>I’m </b>sorry!” He stumbled over apologies, frantic, the wolf within him pacing at the edges <b>of </b>his control.
+8 Pearls
But I <b>stayed </b>calm. My expression serene. “Even without yesterday… I would still have no feelings for you. Let’s end this cleanly, Caelum.”
My tone was t, matter–of–fact, as though discussing the weather rather than the copse of a three–year union.
The moreposed I remained, the more his wolf wed at his chest, howling in frustration. How could I be so calm, so detached, after all we had shared? Three years of marriage, and I treated it like it meant nothing.
“So… no amicable ending? Or is this divorce about that one hundred million?” His gaze sharpened, conflicted between Alpha instinct and human desire.
I let a dry, ironic smile <b>cross </b>my lips. “Fine. Keep your money. We’re divorcing.”
The shock in his eyes was palpable. He’d expected hesitation, bargaining–maybe even some softness. But I gave him none.
I wanted the divorce. No more negotiations, no morepromises, no more lingering in a cage I’d outgrown. And the fact that he realized it, that his Alpha pride couldn’t dominate my resolve, only made him more humiliated.
Send Gifts
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