asper’s POV I stand in the walk-in closet, staring at rows of expensive ties that all look the same. I try not to think of the woman who ironed them. The woman who hasn’t called or texted me for almost a week now. My hands shake as I pull open the drawer where I keep my cufflinks, everything I see reminding me of her, even the f*****g furniture. But it’s not cufflinks I find when the drawer slides open – it’s a collection of memories I didn’t even know Scarlett had been keeping, small treasures that make my chest tighten. There’s the ticket stub from our first official date, when I took her to see some romanticedy she’d been dying to watch and spent the entire two hours watching herugh instead of the screen. The little ceramic elephant I bought her from a street vendor in Thand during our honeymoon. A pressed flower from the bouquet I sent her after our first fight, when I was too proud to apologize in person. My throat closes up as I pick up each item, remembering the girl who used to light up when I walked into a room, who would curl up against my chest on Sunday mornings and trace patterns on my arm while she nned our future. Yes, the girl whose radiance brightened my world. When did I stop seeing her that way? I can’t remember when I started taking her for granted, treating her presence like air, always on the back of my mind yet neglecting. I hold the ceramic elephant, feeling its weight in my palm, reminiscing the way sheughed when I gave it to her, when Virginia appears in the doorway with an envelope in her hand. “What is it?” I ask, setting the ceramic down, mying out colder than I intend. “This came for you,” she says, and if she caught the coldness in my tone, she doesn’t show it. There’s something in her voice that sounds almost smug that I don’t want to dwell on. I take the envelope from her without really looking at it, still lost in memories of Scarlett’s smile, when I see the return address. Morrison & Associates, the most famous divorcew firm in the city. My blood turns cold. I tear the envelope open, anger and fury causing me to almost rip the letter in half when I see the words in bold. Petition for Divorce. Irreconcble Differences. Division of Assets. And her signature. Scarlett’s signature. She actually meant it? She wants divorce? The rage that fills my chest is hot and immediate, burning through the nostalgia and regret like acid. How dare she? How dare she disappear without a word and then serve me divorce papers like I’m some stranger she’s tired of dealing with? After everything I’ve sacrificed-my dignity, my self-respect-to fulfill her father’s requirements. After everything I’ve given her, three years of marriage and a life most women would kill for, she dares to serve me divorce papers? “f**k this,” I snarl, crumpling the papers in my fist and hurling them across the room. They hit the wall and scatter across the marble floor like confetti. The urge to m my fist against the mirror or kick a hole in the wall, anything to release this burning anger makes my body shake with tremors. But I don’t act on the urge. I’ve mastered the craft to suppress, endure, hold in vtile emotions after marrying Scarlett and I’m not about to lose control now. “Jasper,” Virginia, unaware of my inner turmoil, steps closer, cing a hand on my arm, “maybe this is for the best. You two never belonged together. It’s time to let her go.” Let her go. Let go of the woman who promised to love me forever? The woman who ran away with my child and is now demanding a divorce? As if! I storm out of the room, needing space to think, to breathe. But everywhere I look, I see Scarlett. The kitchen where she used to make breakfast on Sunday mornings, humming under her breath while she flipped pancakes. The living room where we used to watch movies, her feet in myp while she painted her nails. The bedroom where we argued, made love and made ns for a future she’s now about to ruin. One week. She’s been gone for a week, and I just realize how empty this house is without her. Virginia’s POV She sent him divorce papers? She really sent him divorce papers? I wait until I hear Jasper’s footsteps disappear down the hallway before I move, my heart pounding with excitement and fear. I’ve been waiting for this day for too long. Three long torturous years where I was forced to watch my beloved with another woman. Three years of sleepless nights, imagining scenes of him getting intimate with a woman that wasn’t me. Three years and finally I see this day. I never expected her to be the one to take the initiative. It would’ve been better if Jasper had been the one to kick her out. To throw the divorce papers in her face, and tell her he never loved her. It would’ve been better… But this will do as well. At least, for now. Bending, I collect the papers scattered across the floor with careful hands, smoothing out the wrinkles Jasper’s anger left behind. And there, at the bottom it is Scarlett’s signature. Neat and precise leaving no doubt about her intentions. The sight of it makes something dark curl in my chest. She should’ve never appeared in our lives. Jasper is mine, just as the life of the rich heiress she stole from me is mine. She stole my life, my love. Now, I’ll have it all back, and everything will be exactly the way it should’ve been. All that’s left is Jasper’s signature. He’s too proud and too stubborn to sign something like this without a fight, too convinced that she’lle back. He doesn’t understand that some things can’t be fixed, that some damage goes too deep to heal, too painful for even love to ovee. But I understand. I’ve been watching their marriage crumble from the inside for months now, watching Scarlett grow smaller and quieter while Jasper grew more distant and distracted. I’ve seen the way he looks at her when he thinks no one is watching – not with love, but with the kind of mild irritation you might feel toward a pet that’s no longer amusing. I’ve seen the way she flinches when he raises his voice, the way she apologizes for things that aren’t her fault, the way she’s been slowly losing herself even before she left. They were never going to make it. Their marriage was built on a foundation of obligation and convenience, of deals and contracts, not love. But I’m not like Scarlett. My rtionship with Jasper isn’t based on contract and deals. I will not only be his wife. I will be his partner, his equal, his obsession in every sense of the word. And he will look at me the way he’s never looked at her before, with real desire and real need, not just tolerance. I smooth the papers t against the marble floor, pulling a pen from my purse with steady hands. I’ve been practicing Jasper’s signature for years, ever since I realized I loved him. The bold, confident strokes that match his personality, the slight flourish at the end that speaks to his ego. I’ve traced it so many times I can probably forge it in my sleep. The first attempt is too perfect. Jasper’s real signature has a slight tremor to it, a hint of impatience thates from signing hundreds of documents every week. I crumple the page and start over, this time letting my hand move faster, more naturally. Perfect. I sign his name with a flourish, then fold the papers carefully and slip them into the envelope they came in. Tomorrow morning I’ll have my assistant mail them back to Morrison & Associates, and within a few days Scarlett will have her divorce and her freedom and whatever settlement she’s negotiated for raising her bastard. And then…Jasper will be mine.<fn9620> This update is avable on F?nd-Novel</fn9620>