Chapter 61
Lena's POV
The alarm went off at seven a.m. I opened my eyes to sunlight streaming through gaps in the curtains, casting golden lines across the floor.
I got up, showered, and dressed in a navy suit—clean, professional, designed to leave no unnecessary impression. I pulled my hair into a low ponytail and applied light makeup. I looked like I was heading to a routine business contract signing.
In a way, that's exactly what this was.
When I came downstairs with my suitcase, Martha had already prepared breakfast. She saw the luggage and her eyes reddened again.
"Don't, Martha," I said softly. "We'll see each other at the new place very soon."
"I know, Miss Grant." She wiped the corners of her eyes. "It's just... these two years have been hard on you."
I hugged her briefly, saying nothing. Some things didn't need words.
"Mr. Reynolds already left," Martha said. "He went out at six."
I nodded. Of course he didn't want to see me now. We'd meet at the lawyer's office, sign the papers, and leave separately. Simple as that.
I drank a cup of coffee and forced down a few bites of toast, though it tasted like cardboard. Then I picked up my suitcase and headed for the door.
"Martha, I'm leaving now." I looked back at her. "After I sign the papers, I'll call you to move to my house."
"Yes, Miss Grant." Martha nodded, wiping her tears.
I walked out, got in the car, started the engine, and drove away from the lakeside estate I'd lived in for two years.
In the rearview mirror, the white building grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared around a corner.
I took a deep breath, gripped the steering wheel, and headed toward the lawyer's office downtown.
---
At 9:50 a.m., I arrived right on time. The receptionist told me Rowan hadn't arrived yet, but the lawyer was waiting in the conference room.
I walked in. The lawyer stood and shook my hand—a man in his fifties with graying hair and a serious, professional demeanor.
"Miss Grant, please have a seat," he said. "We'll go through the documents first. Once Mr. Reynolds arrives, we can proceed with the official signing."
I sat down and accepted the file he handed me. I read every page carefully, though I'd reviewed this agreement countless times already.
The clock on the wall ticked away. Ten o'clock. 10:05. 10:10.
Rowan still hadn't appeared.
---
Rowan's POV
I didn't sleep much.
By the time the first hint of gray light crept through the curtains, I'd already given up pretending. I threw off the covers, pulled on running gear, and headed out into the pre-dawn chill.
The streets were empty. My breath came out in clouds. I pushed myself harder than usual, trying to outrun the thoughts that had circled my mind all night.
You can't keep her trapped in your mistakes.
The words had been there since yesterday, quiet but insistent. I'd spent two years treating this marriage like a transaction I could control, keeping Lena at arm's length while simultaneously expecting her to stay within reach.
When had I become so arrogant? So blind?
I thought of the way she'd looked at me in Oakridge when I'd taken care of her during her fever—hopeful, vulnerable, like maybe I'd finally see her. And I'd responded by letting Nora stay in my orbit, by prioritizing everything except the one person who'd actually shown up for me.
Seven years ago, she'd saved my company anonymously. Two years ago, she'd proposed this contract to help both our families. And what had I given her in return? Distance. Dismissal. The occasional night in bed followed by cold shoulders in the morning.
By the time I made it back to the estate, showered, and changed into a suit, I'd made my decision. I would sign the papers. I would let her go.
It was the only decent thing left to do.
---
I arrived at the lawyer's office at 10:15.
Lena was already there, seated at the conference table with her back straight and her hands folded in her lap. She wore a navy suit that made her look every inch the professional she was—composed, untouchable, already gone.
She glanced up when I entered. Her expression didn't change.
"Mr. Reynolds," the lawyer said, standing. "Please, have a seat. We can begin."
I sat down across from her. The documents were already laid out, two identical copies with tabs marking where we needed to sign.
The lawyer walked us through the terms one more time—division of assets, confidentiality clauses, the official termination date. His voice was steady, practiced. He'd probably done this a hundred times.
For me, every word felt like a nail being driven home.
When he finished, he slid the first set of documents toward Lena. "Miss Grant, if you'll sign here, here, and here."
She picked up the pen without hesitation. Her signature was swift, certain—no pause, no second thoughts. She'd made her choice long before she walked into this room.
Then it was my turn.
I stared down at the dotted line. My hand hovered over the page.
Just sign it. Let her go.
I pressed the pen to paper and signed my name three times.
It was done.
---
The lawyer collected the documents, made copies, and handed us each a set. "That concludes our business. The termination will be officially processed within three business days. Congratulations on an amicable resolution."
Amicable. Right.
Lena stood, tucking her copy into her briefcase with the same efficient movements she used for everything. I stood too, slower.
"Lena," I said.
She paused, one hand on her briefcase. "Yes?"
"Where are you going to stay? You can keep the estate if you want. I'll move somewhere else."
She shook her head. "That's not necessary. I'm going back to my old place."
"Let me help you move, at least. You must have—"
"I don't have much," she interrupted, her tone polite but final. "I've already packed what I need. Martha's coming with me. It's handled."
Handled. Of course it was. Lena never left loose ends.
"Right," I said. "Well. If you need anything—"
"I won't." She met my eyes briefly, and for a second I thought I saw something flicker there—regret, maybe, or just exhaustion. Then it was gone. "Take care, Rowan."
She walked past me, her heels clicking softly on the polished floor, and disappeared through the door.
I stood there in the empty conference room, staring at the space where she'd been.
She'd left so cleanly. No drama, no tears, no looking back.
And somehow, that made it worse.