Chapter 3: It's Over

Sophia’s Point of View

I stared at my phone, waiting for Katrina’s message to come through. It wasn’t like I was expecting James to confirm our meeting himself—that would have been too much to ask from the man who barely acknowledged me for the past two years. Still, part of me had hoped he’d at least show a little courtesy before I handed him his freedom.

My phone buzzed. Finally.

“He didn’t confirm,” Katrina said as I answered. Her voice was steady, like she knew what I’d say next.

“Where is he?” I asked, already getting up from my desk and grabbing my purse.

Katrina had done her job, as always. “He’s meeting Mr. Thompson from the Finance Bureau at The Crescent. Private room. I’ve sent the details.”

I smiled to myself, not even slightly surprised. Of course, James had more important things to do—like building his empire—than handle a simple divorce.

“Perfect. Have the money ready. I want it delivered to him in person,” I said firmly.

Katrina didn’t question it. “The bodyguards are already prepared. The cash is ready to go.”

“Good.” I glanced at myself in the mirror. Gone was the innocent, modest Sophia—the woman who had once agreed to this contract marriage to ease her dying grandmother’s mind, believing James Dalton would at least play the part. For two years, I had been nothing more than a name on a piece of paper to him. A decoration.

Tonight, I was no decoration.

My dress hugged my body in all the right places—elegant but undeniably revealing, the deep neckline and fitted silhouette exuding confidence. If James Dalton was going to ignore me, it wouldn’t be tonight.

With my two bodyguards in tow and the $10 million cash packed neatly in suitcases, I headed to the venue.

The Crescent was an upscale place, all polished marble and discreet staff, designed for people who didn’t want to be seen but needed to make deals. I glanced at my phone, double-checking the details of James’s meeting with Thompson. I was determined to finish this tonight—no more waiting, no more strings attached.

As I walked through the lobby, my phone buzzed again. I glanced down, distracted for just a second—enough for me to not notice the person walking straight toward me.

We collided, my phone slipping from my hand. I gasped, but before I could react, a hand darted out, catching the phone just before it hit the floor.

“Whoa,” came a calm voice. “Careful.”

I looked up and found myself staring into the eyes of a tall, handsome man. His tailored suit was impeccable, and he had a calm, almost amused expression on his face as he handed me back my phone.

“Thank you,” I said quickly, straightening myself and regaining my composure. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“No problem,” he said, his smile easy and relaxed. “Be careful with that. Wouldn’t want to lose it.”

I nodded, still taken aback by the brief encounter. “Right, I’ll keep that in mind.”

We exchanged a polite smile, and with that, he moved on, disappearing into the crowd of high-profile guests. I stood there for a moment, watching him go, before shaking off the strange feeling that lingered. He was just a man, a stranger I bumped into.

But there was no time to dwell on it now. I had more important things to focus on.

I found James in the private VIP room, just as Katrina had informed me. Through the glass doors, I could see him standing beside Ryan, his assistant, casually shaking hands with Mr. Thompson. They were wrapping up their meeting, the polite goodbyes already in progress.

Without waiting for an invitation, I strode inside, my heels clicking sharply on the marble floor. The bodyguards followed me, each carrying one of the suitcases full of cash.

James looked up, his usual composed expression faltering for just a moment when he saw me. His eyes briefly flicked to my dress—lingering on the low-cut neckline and the way the fabric clung to my figure.

“Sophia?” His voice was calm, but there was an edge of surprise in it.

“Am I interrupting?” I asked, my tone as smooth as possible. I was aware of the eyes on me—Ryan’s confused gaze, Mr. Thompson’s raised eyebrow—but I didn’t care. This wasn’t about them.

James straightened, his surprise quickly fading into his usual cold demeanor. “We’re finishing up here.”

Mr. Thompson, sensing the tension, cleared his throat. “I should be going anyway,” he said with a polite nod to James. “Pleasure doing business.”

The moment the door closed behind him, I turned my full attention to James.

“I didn’t think you were going to show,” he said, eyeing the two bodyguards standing behind me, the suitcases at their feet.

I smiled slightly, though it didn’t reach my eyes. “You didn’t leave me much of a choice. Since you couldn’t make time for me, I decided to bring the meeting to you.”

James’s expression didn’t change, though his gaze flickered back to my dress for a brief second before meeting my eyes again. “You’ve certainly made an entrance.”

“I didn’t come here to make an entrance,” I replied, walking over to the table and setting down the papers I had been carrying. “I came to finalize our divorce.”

James’s eyes shifted to the papers, his brow furrowing slightly. “Divorce?”

“Yes. The contract is over, James.” I spoke evenly, feeling a sense of calm wash over me. “I’ve already signed the papers. Now it’s your turn.”

I gestured to the suitcases beside me. “And as agreed, here’s your alimony. Ten million dollars, in cash.”

For the first time that night, James looked genuinely surprised. His cold exterior cracked, if only for a moment.

“You’re paying me alimony?” he asked, his tone almost incredulous.

“That’s right,” I said, my voice firm. “I don’t need anything from you, James. I just want this to be over.”

He looked at the suitcases, then back at me, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I know,” I replied, standing tall. “But I want to.”

For a moment, the room was silent. James’s expression was unreadable, though I could feel the weight of his gaze on me. There was no warmth in his eyes—there never had been—but there was something else. Maybe it was the shock of seeing me like this, standing in front of him with a confidence he hadn’t expected. Or maybe it was the realization that, for the first time, I was the one in control.

Finally, James nodded, his face returning to its familiar, stoic mask. “Fine. I’ll sign the papers.”

He reached for the pen on the table, his hand steady as he scribbled his signature on the dotted line. No hesitation. No emotion. Just business, as always.

When he was done, he pushed the papers toward me. “It’s over.”

I picked them up, glancing at his signature for a moment before slipping them into my bag. “Yes,” I said softly. “It is.”

Without another word, I turned and walked out of the room, my heart pounding in my chest. I didn’t look back, not once. I had waited two years for this moment, and now that it was done, I felt a strange mix of relief and emptiness.

The contract was over. And so was James Dalton.