(Demi’s POV)
The divorce papers were glaring back at me from the mahogany table like some sort of a nasty reminder of my shortcomings as housewife. My trembling fingers brushed over the ink where my husband, Jeff Ortega’s, signature glared at me, bold and resolute.
His decision was final, and it was unyielding just as the man himself.
However, Jeff was standing in front of the window even as I turn and witnessed how the soft afternoon light shining on his erect figure. His eyes were as cold and far away as before, and his sharp facial features were etched with resolve. The distance between us was heightened by his coldness, even with his back facing my direction.
“I’ve already signed the papers. You should hurry and sign them too,” he said, his tone devoid of emotion. “I want everything finalized before Stella returns.”
Stella. The name cut through me like a blade. My throat tightened as I fought back tears.
Jeff didn’t even glance in my direction. “We’ve agreed on the partition of assets before marriage, so there shouldn’t be any disputes. But I’ll compensate you with fifty million dollars and a house near the border. My father…” He hesitated for a moment, then continued, “He would expect me to offer you something substantial.”
“Does… does your dad know you’re divorcing me?” My voice cracked as I finally forced the words out.
Jeff’s laugh was humorless. “Does it matter? Do you think if he knew it would change anything?”
The weight of his words pressed down on my chest. My grip on the table tightened as I tried to steady myself. “Jeff,” I whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. “Can we not get a divorce?”
At that, he spun around, his eyes blazing with frustration. “I’ve had enough, Demi! Every second of this marriage has been torture. A loveless, miserable relationship—that’s all you’ve given me.”
His words tore through the weak hope I had held onto for so long like a mallet. Even though tears were streaming down my cheeks, I resisted showing him how helpless I was.
“It was a mistake from the start,” he continued. “You knew I loved someone else, yet you agreed to this charade. Now that the five-year agreement is over and Stella is returning, it’s time for you to step aside give her the position of being my wife where it truly belongs.”
Step aside. He was quick to address me that way as though my feelings, sacrifices, and my existence were nothing to him at all. At this point, all that I wanted was to cry out loud, to demand that he acknowledge everything I’d endured for years. But Instead, I could only afford to lower my head as my tears continued to soak the divorce papers lying beneath me.
And then, Jeff’s phone buzzed, cutting through the suffocating silence between us. His behavior quickly changed and it shifted immediately into someone completely different as he answered the call.
“Hello, Stella,” he said softly, his voice dripping with warmth that I had never heard directed at me. “What?! You’re already at the airport? I thought your flight is scheduled tomorrow evening? Alright. I’ll pick you up right now then. Wait for me.”
Without another glance in my direction, he strode out of the room, leaving me with the papers and the shards of my broken heart.
***
I watched that evening from the sideline while everyone seemed too busy especially as Jeff entered the manor cuddling Stella in his arms. The joy of the workers filled the house, and I couldn't help but feel out of place in my own house.
My heart ached at the sound of Stella's laughter that filled the corridors of the manor. "Jeff, do you think all of this seems off? I mean, Demi might hate me for this.”
With a disdainful tone, he reassured her, "Oh, no worries. She won't. This marriage was never real to begin with. She knows her place.”
The words made my chest hurt even more. Even though I had given him everything, he still only saw me as a duty he must fulfill as part of the marriage arrangement.
And for that reason, I made up my mind later that night. I packed a little suitcase and sneaked out of the house without a word. Without looking back, I quickly hopped into the black Porsche waiting outside the gates. As I got inside, I instantly felt my heart tensed.
There, I was met with a worried smile by my childhood friend, Brent, who was handling the wheels.
"Hey Demi, are you certain about this? There’s no turning back once I move the car.” He inquired quietly.
Even though my hands were shaking, I nodded and spoke firmly. “Yes. Just go. I can’t stay in this place for another moment longer.”
***
The sound of the engine had drowned out my racing thoughts especially as Brent's car sped through the streets. In spite of the excruciating pain I was feeling deep within my chest, It would seem like I felt free for the first time in so many years.
“Where to?” Brent asked gently, his eyes flicking to me in the rearview mirror.
I hesitated. “Anywhere but here.”
He understood and nodded. I had known Brent in the past, and he had always had faith in me. He hadn't thought twice about helping me when I had called him earlier, feeling hopeless and broken.
"You know that you deserve more than this." He whispered beside me.
Although I wasn't entirely sure I believed what he was meant with those words, I simply let it sink in. After everything, my heart still ached for Jeff. but despite this, I simply just couldn't get risk pushing myself to be with someone who only saw me as a hindrance to his happiness.
Brent dropped me off at the Imperial Hotel, far from the prying eyes of the Ortega family. Compared to the stuffy atmosphere of the Blue Manor, the air was clear and fresh.
"Just feel free to stay as long as you want to," Brent said, maintaining a steady gaze at my face that it makes me awkward for some reason. “Demi, you always underestimate how strong you are. Also, don't let anyone tell you otherwise.”
I nodded, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over me. I silently promised myself something as soon as I entered the villa. Without Jeff Ortega, my life would be rebuilt piece by piece. A ray of hope appeared in my life for the first time in years.
The hotel turned into a haven for me, a healing space. Brent came back after parking his car, his presence a comforting reminder that not everyone in my life had abandoned me.
"You're doing better than I anticipated," he said in a playful tone.
With a tiny smile tugging at my lips, I answered, "I have to. For myself."
However, a part of me continued to yearn for the man who had broken my heart even as I moved on. Jeff Ortega might have discarded me, but he would never truly be gone from my thoughts.
The crisp night air brushed against my skin as Brent guided me onto the elevator. He had demanded this surprise in the hopes that it would cheer me up. The building was surrounded by glistening city lights.
I questioned in frustration, "Brent, what are you trying to show?"
He leaned against the railing and grinned. He looked at his watch and said, "My secretary planned this. Fireworks start in...three, two, one."
The night sky was painted with purple fireworks as a loud boom filled the air. Below us, couples gathered on the balcony, their faces beaming with joy. I grinned in spite of myself.
"Your secretary has terrible taste," I shook my head.
Brent chuckled. "Better than his past attempts. And there’s more. Gifts from everyone are waiting in your room. You’re loved, Demi. It’s time to focus on the people who truly deserve your love."
His words brought a lump to my throat. I turned away, blinking back tears.
Jeff’s POVThe moment I stepped out the manor and into my car, I felt overjoyed. For some reason, i couldn't control the excitement building within me as I drove to the airport. Within my head it scream so loud that at last, my first love, Stella Magno, was returning from Italy.My desire for her continued to spring even stronger over the years. I had always believe that our temporary separation was just for a while and that a time would be available for us to be together again—and that time is now. As for Demi? She was a mistake. A fleeting obligation forced upon me by my father’s incessant demands. Marrying her had been a sacrifice for me and as well as the Ortega family’s image, nothing more. I’ve endured so much as I’d given her the required five years, but now, I was free. And I would claim back the lost years I should have spend with Stella.As I pulled the car at the airport, I quickly spotted Stella waiving her hand. She was radiant, her delicate physique and warm smile was
DEMI's POVThe Hermosa Villa, a majestic estate that had always seemed more like a museum than a house, towered over me. Under me, the black Camaro's engine hummed as it moved effortlessly up the driveway. As Brent walked forward with a sneer already on his lips, I looked out the tinted window. As soon as the car halted, he swung the door open with his usual dramatic flair.“Welcome back, princess!” he said, extending a hand toward me.My heels clicked on the sidewalk as I stepped outside, a sharp contrast to the sneakers I had been wearing before. I had changed in the car, swapping comfort for elegance, stepping into the role everyone expected of me. In the warm light of the villa's entrance lights, I was certain that I looked like the queen I had taught myself to be."Brent, how have things been going while I was away?" I asked, arching an eyebrow at him.“Better now that you’re back,” he replied smoothly. “Did you enjoy the fireworks? My birthday gift to you attracted the whole ci
CHAPTER 4The murmurs in the hallway reached my ears before I even stepped inside the building."I heard the new chairman is a young woman.""The acting chairman is being replaced? By a woman? That’s insane!""The last four general managers failed to turn this company around. What makes her any different?""I heard she’s Mr. Perez’s daughter…""Chairman Perez has many wives. She must be an illegitimate child sent here to clean up his mess."I chuckled under my breath. People never failed to amuse me."She’s here! The new boss is here!"A sleek Porsche rolled to a stop at the entrance, followed by a procession of Ferraris. The air was thick with curiosity as all eyes turned toward the arrival. When the car door opened, a pair of black high-heeled shoes with red soles touched the ground first. Then, I stepped out.The murmurs stopped.My long, dark hair hung down over my shoulders as I stood tall. I selected a navy blue power suit because it was expertly tailored and perfectly fit my cu
They always talked behind my back."How dare they say that! You're the Perez family's only daughter, and the daughter of the first wife, the one and only legitimate heiress. Are they out of their minds?" Sabrina fumed beside me, her hands clenched into fists.I sighed, barely looking up from the glass of wine I had been swirling absentmindedly. "Come on. That mindset is old-fashioned. Who cares about whether I’m the first wife's daughter? I don’t care, so why should you bother?"Sabrina blinked at me, her cheeks puffing slightly with frustration, which only made her look cuter. Unable to resist, I reached out and pinched her face gently. Her skin was soft beneath my fingers, and immediately, her face flushed a deep red."Demi!" Brent groaned from across the room, shaking his head. "You're the future president of Hermosa Group. Can you at least act with dignity? Stop teasing Sabrina."I chuckled, releasing my secretary. "What’s the matter? Big bosses are allowed to tease their secretar
The phone continued to ring, the sound piercing through the silence in my office. My fingers twitched, but I clenched them into a fist, refusing to let old habits take over. I wouldn’t answer. Not yet.Brent arched an eyebrow. “You sure? He’s persistent.”“He can keep waiting.” I turned to Sabrina, who was shifting nervously by the door. “Tell me everything about Adam Ortega’s condition.”Sabrina cleared her throat, pulling out her tablet. “He was admitted early this morning. Another stroke, but not as severe as the last one. The doctors say he stabilized after emergency treatment, but he’s still under observation.”I drummed my fingers on my desk, thinking. Adam Ortega had been a formidable businessman in his prime, but age had worn him down. And yet, I couldn’t ignore the unease settling in my stomach. The Ortega family had been quiet for too long.“Has Jeff been seen at the hospital yet?”Sabrina nodded. “Yes. He arrived about an hour ago. He hasn’t left the VIP ward since.”I scof
Jeff Ortega had waited long enough.It had been over five years since we first met, five years since I last saved his life, and exactly five days since he first tried to call me today. few hours of my unwavering silence.And now, he had finally lost his patience.I heard him before I saw him—the hurried footsteps, the clipped conversation with Brent at the door, the tension in Sabrina’s stance as she turned to me in warning. But I didn’t need her to say anything. I already knew what was coming.“Demi,” Jeff’s voice rang out, firm but laced with something dangerously close to desperation. “We need to talk.”Slowly, I looked up from my desk. The sight of him sent a familiar pang through my chest—an echo of something I had long buried. He looked the same, yet different. The years had carved sharper lines into his face, his once-boyish charm hardened by experience. But his eyes? Those dark, piercing eyes still carried the same fire, the same intensity that once had the power to make my he
The moment Jeff left, something unexpected stirred inside me.Curiosity.I hated it. Hated that even after everything, I still cared enough to wonder. But Jeff had mentioned his father, and despite everything that had happened, Adam Ortega had never been the enemy. If anything, he had been the only light in my past with the Ortegas.I turned to Sabrina. "Find out which room Adam Ortega is in. Now."Sabrina hesitated for only a moment before nodding and stepping away. Within minutes, she returned with the information. "He's in room 312. He was rushed in earlier—almost had a mild stroke."My stomach twisted. A stroke? Adam had always been a strong, stubborn man, but he wasn’t invincible. I couldn’t ignore this. Not when he had once treated me like his own daughter.Without another word, I made my way to his room.The beeping machines and sterile hospital air greeted me as I entered. Adam looked weaker than I had ever seen him, lying against the pillows with an IV in his arm. But his eye
I knew that if I truly wanted to move forward, I had to cut all ties with the Ortegas once and for all. Adam’s words had shaken me, but Brent was right—holding onto the past, even the good parts, would only keep me stuck in a life I no longer wanted.The decision didn’t come easily. For a long time, I had convinced myself that leaving their house, their name, and their influence was enough. But staying in the same city, breathing the same air as them, still tied me to them in ways I hadn’t even realized. Everywhere I went, there was a reminder—an old restaurant Jeff and I used to dine at, a familiar road I had driven down countless times, even a passing glance at someone wearing the same cologne he used to wear. I was shackled to memories, and I was done with them controlling my life.So I made the call.“I’m leaving,” I told Brent and Sabrina later that evening, standing in the dimly lit office of my apartment. My voice was firm, even as a part of me ached at the finality of it.Bren
Around noon, I found a note taped to my computer monitor. Simple, clean handwriting. I didn’t need to ask who it was from."Dinner. Your place. 7PM. You don’t have to say anything. Just let me try. –J"I stared at it for a long time.It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t a demand.It was... a hope.A quiet one. One I hadn’t earned yet. One I wasn’t sure I could accept.But when seven o’clock rolled around, I was home. I had lit candles. Put on soft music. Worn something that wasn’t just lounge clothes.And I waited.At 7:02, there was a knock.I opened the door, and there he was—holding a bag of takeout from my favorite Thai place, rain in his hair, uncertainty in his eyes.“Hi,” he said softly.“Hi,” I replied.He stepped inside, and we moved through the motions like a dance we hadn’t forgotten. Plates. Chopsticks. Steam curling from cartons. But the real heat in the room wasn’t from the food.It was the tension.I finally broke it.“Who was that message from?” I asked, voice even but my heart
I didn’t go far. Just to the small park down the block from Jeff’s condo unit—the one with the crooked benches and a fountain that hadn’t worked since spring. I sat there, my coat tight around me, watching the early evening swallow the sky whole.I didn’t cry. Not really.I was too tired for tears. Too wrung out from constantly stitching together the pieces of us, only to watch them come loose again.I pulled my phone out, stared at the blank screen. No texts. No calls. And maybe that was the point. Jeff had said he wouldn’t stop trying, but he hadn’t come after me. Not this time.Maybe he was learning to give me space. Or maybe he was just as exhausted as I was.A gust of wind tore through the branches above, scattering brittle leaves across my boots.Why does love feel like this sometimes?Not soft and soothing, but raw. Like walking barefoot on broken glass, hoping every step doesn’t cut too deep. Hoping the bleeding stops before the next fight.But despite everything, I didn’t wan
Around noon, I found a note taped to my computer monitor. Simple, clean handwriting. I didn’t need to ask who it was from."Dinner. Your place. 7PM. You don’t have to say anything. Just let me try. –J"I stared at it for a long time.It wasn’t a plea. It wasn’t a demand.It was... a hope.A quiet one. One I hadn’t earned yet. One I wasn’t sure I could accept.But when seven o’clock rolled around, I was home. I had lit candles. Put on soft music. Worn something that wasn’t just lounge clothes.And I waited.At 7:02, there was a knock.I opened the door, and there he was—holding a bag of takeout from my favorite Thai place, rain in his hair, uncertainty in his eyes.“Hi,” he said softly.“Hi,” I replied.He stepped inside, and we moved through the motions like a dance we hadn’t forgotten. Plates. Chopsticks. Steam curling from cartons. But the real heat in the room wasn’t from the food.It was the tension.I finally broke it.“Who was that message from?” I asked, voice even but my heart
By Monday, we were back in the city.Jeff dropped me off at my place, and though we kissed goodbye with a promise to see each other soon, something lingered between us—something unspoken and tense, like a storm hovering just beyond the horizon.I tried to shake it off as I stepped into my apartment. I unpacked slowly, letting the quiet settle around me. But my thoughts refused to sit still.Why now? Why was Stella suddenly trying to reappear? And why did Jeff hesitate before telling me?It wasn’t fair—he’d done so much to regain my trust. He’d been showing up, loving me in all the right ways. But one whisper from the past, and the walls I’d slowly let fall started climbing back up.I turned on some music, something soft, just to quiet the noise inside my head. And that’s when my phone buzzed.It was a message. From an unknown number.Unknown: "You can believe him if you want. But you should know he came back to me once before. Right after the first time you left."I stared at the scre
There’s something strangely intimate about folding laundry with someone you love. Not the kind of love that’s still wrapped in red ribbons and candlelit dinners, but the kind that shows up in the quiet domesticity of Sunday afternoons—barefoot, soft music in the background, mismatched socks everywhere.Jeff held up one of my oversized sweaters, the sleeves drooping like tired arms. “This still smells like that coconut shampoo you use.”I glanced up from the pile of towels. “I haven’t used that shampoo in months.”“Must be haunted,” he smirked, then tossed it gently to my side of the bed.I laughed, but it came with a soft ache. This was good. Easy. Comfortable. Almost too comfortable.Maybe that’s why it blindsided me when the tension returned—sharp and unexpected like stepping on glass in a room you thought was safe.It happened that evening.We were cleaning out the hallway closet when Jeff’s phone buzzed on the console table. Once. Twice. Three times.He didn’t reach for it.I woul
Demi's POVI stared at the message long after Jeff disappeared down the stairs, heading toward the beach. The wind outside had picked up, brushing against the glass like a warning. I hated that this had happened—now, of all times. Things were just starting to feel steady again.I didn’t even know how he’d gotten my number. I’d deleted it all—his texts, his name, his presence from my life the moment I realized he was a distraction from what I really wanted.From Jeff.And now he comes crawling back, like the past didn’t already do enough damage.I grabbed my phone and typed a response, my fingers moving fast and sharp.“Do not contact me again. This is inappropriate and unwanted. I’m with someone I love—don’t ruin what little decency you have left.”Send.Block.Delete.My chest heaved as I placed the phone face down on the railing of the porch. The waves crashed in the distance, but I couldn’t hear them over the thud of my heart. This wasn’t fair—not to Jeff, not to me, not to what we
Chelsea popped her head into my office later that day.“You look like someone ran over your optimism.”“Not now, Chels.”She walked in anyway, plopping down on the chair across from me. “Okay. Spill.”I told her.Everything.From the breakfast to the journal to the half-confession that landed like a gut-punch instead of a step forward.Chelsea didn’t say anything right away. Then: “Do you regret telling him?”“No. But I hate that it hurt him.”“Demi, listen.” She leaned forward. “You did what most people wouldn’t have the guts to do. You gave him the full picture. He asked for proof you were in this for real, and you gave it. He needs to sit with it, sure—but that doesn’t mean he’s leaving.”“I know,” I said quietly. “But I can’t help feeling like I poked a hole in something just as it was starting to feel whole again.”“Maybe,” she said. “Or maybe that hole is where the light gets in.”I groaned. “Did you just quote Leonard Cohen at me?”She grinned. “Absolutely.”I managed a smile,
Demi's POVIt wasn’t the phone call that broke me.Not really.It was the pause. That flicker of hesitation in Jeff’s eyes. The microsecond where I saw him debate whether to tell me the truth. It was the weight of everything we were trying to rebuild pressing on one fragile moment.And I hated that it felt familiar.That split-second uncertainty—the one that made me question whether I was still the girl who could be forgotten. Set aside. Replaced.But I didn’t spiral. Not this time.Because I’d promised myself something too: that I wouldn’t run anymore. That I would stay. That I would speak instead of shut down.Even if it hurt.The morning after he blocked Stella, we went through the motions like nothing had happened.Coffee. Shower. Quiet music playing from my phone as I tied my hair up.But my stomach still twisted when I caught him staring at me—like he was trying to read between the lines of my silence.“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, gently.I thought about lying. I re
Trying is one thing.But staying?That’s the real test.And for the next week, Jeff and I tried.Not in grand, sweeping gestures. Not in dramatic confessions under the rain or fairy tale moments. But in the quiet decisions—the daily check-ins, the shared silences, the soft compromises that slowly stitched us back together.I started trusting him again. Not all at once, but in fragments. Like handing him pieces of a puzzle that used to be whole, asking him to rebuild without the picture on the box.And Jeff?He never once complained.He didn’t push when I asked for space. He didn’t flinch when I brought up Ethan, or Stella, or the silence that had almost swallowed us whole. He listened. He showed up. And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I was walking alone.Until Thursday.We were supposed to meet at the gallery.My newest commission piece had just been installed, and Jeff offered to help me with the lighting setup before the weekend preview. It was a simple ask—sh