Please Divorce Him

Anna’s POV:

"Anna, I've always admired you, and I feel I've wronged you," William said in an unusually humble tone. His eyes, once piercing with authority, now held a strange vulnerability. "But, you can't have children..."

My hand instinctively covered my abdomen. The irony was almost too much to bear. Here I was, carrying a child nobody knew about – a life that "wasn't expected" but had arrived anyway. In that moment, I felt a fierce desire to protect this baby, to bring it into the world despite everything.

I remembered the doctor's words from earlier: my body was in decent condition, though my progesterone was low. She'd already prescribed medication. I'd made a silent promise then – if this child survived, I would celebrate its arrival with all my heart.

William continued, adjusting his position against the plush pillows. "Logically, you're both young. With proper treatment, pregnancy might still be possible, but my heart condition..." He sighed heavily, the oxygen tube shifting against his nose. "I can't wait anymore. I need a grandson to continue the Wright family line."

His methodical, gentle, almost pathetically humble monologue made it hard to breathe. I couldn't even summon the energy to be angry. My emotions had been compressed into a strange calm, like the quiet before a hurricane.

"You don't need to discuss this with me," I said flatly. "If Blake wants to do IVF with Scarlett, I can't control or stop him."

William smiled knowingly, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening. "I understand my son too well. For my health's sake, he's pretending to agree to IVF with Scarlett, but Blake's just playing along."

He explained that IVF only had a certain percentage chance of success, and if it failed repeatedly, delaying through multiple cycles, he might not live to see the results.

"Why... doesn't he agree?" I asked, my heart surging with unexpected hope. Was it possible that Blake refused because of me? Could he be waiting for our child too?

William looked uncomfortable, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of his blanket. "He's too fixated on keeping the family intact. He'll never divorce you."

"He can just marry Scarlett then," I said calmly, though disappointment crashed through me like a wrecking ball.

For the first time, I learned my husband wouldn't divorce me not because he loved me, but because he couldn't bear a broken family.

My earlier fantasies suddenly seemed pathetic.

William shook his head, the movement causing him to wince slightly. "A second marriage would make him like me. Blake hates that idea." He paused, then finally revealed his true purpose: "I'm not asking you to do anything specific. I'm begging you – please divorce him."

The shock hit me like ice water. "I've already asked Blake for a divorce many times."

"That's not enough," William replied, his voice strengthening despite his frail appearance. "Make him disappointed in you. Make him disappointed in your marriage."

My heart sank at his words. "Is this really about what's best for Blake, or just your family's selfish need to keep the Wright bloodline going? You say Blake is all about family integrity, yet you're telling me to divorce him. Don't you think that could mess him up psychologically all over again?"

William gave a soft laugh that turned into a brief cough. "You underestimate a man's determination to get what he wants. If he wants a family, he'll find a way to have one."

I felt a hollowness spread through me, starting in my chest and radiating outward. I wasn't the wife Blake truly wanted. And yet, I had schemed my way into his life. How ironic. The cosmic justice wasn't lost on me.

William adjusted his oxygen mask, taking a few labored breaths. His platinum watch gleamed in the light—probably worth more than most people's cars. "Don't worry, I'll make it right. I'll make sure you never have to worry about money again, even if you choose to live extravagantly. I owe that to your late father."

I watched him, suddenly seeing everything clearly, as if a veil had been lifted. To William, family, love, and responsibility were commodities to be traded. Money could solve everything.

He was a dying father making final arrangements for his son, like closing business deals before retirement.

I was trapped in a no-win situation. If I agreed to divorce, my marriage would be manipulated by others. If I refused, I'd face a dying man's condemnation.

I felt suffocated.

"You love my son?" William asked with disdain, his eyebrows rising slightly. "If you truly love him, you should consider what's best for him!"

I remained silent for a long moment, the weight of his words sinking in.

"I don't love him anymore," I finally said, the words feeling strange on my tongue.

A strange relief washed over me as I spoke those words. This scene reminded me of movies where wealthy parents offer money to girlfriends to leave their sons.

But real-life wealthy families had more class – even facing death, William maintained his composure, no dramatic crying or shouting.

I decided to accept the "take the money and leave" option. Perhaps this was my way of setting Blake free. Maybe it was even a kindness – to both of us.

I smiled at William, surprised at how genuine it felt. "How much are you offering?"

His gaze held a new appreciation, like he was seeing me in a different light. A worthy opponent, perhaps.

"Blake also asked me to find a way to divorce him," I revealed, watching his reaction carefully. "This failed marriage has no hope. It can't be saved."

William nodded, saying he'd arrange for his lawyers to discuss compensation until I was satisfied. His voice had the practiced ease of someone discussing a routine business transaction rather than the destruction of a marriage.

I stood up, smoothing the wrinkles from my dress, but hesitated before leaving. There was one more thing.

"William," I asked, "let me be clear about something. If it meant sacrificing Claire for Blake's sake, would you do it?"

I was giving him a warning, preventing another heart attack when he eventually learned about the trouble Claire caused.

"Claire? I'm quite fond of her. Is that necessary?" he asked, confusion flickering across his face.

I looked directly into his eyes and nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

"She's nothing but a bastard child from God knows who," he said, his voice gentle but terrifying in its casualness. "She can't compare to my son."

I helped him adjust his oxygen mask before turning to leave.

It struck me then, with painful clarity – Caroline had devoted years to the Wright family, yet neither she nor her daughter held any real value to William.

In such wealthy families, genuine love meant nothing. It was all business, bloodlines, and appearances.

I felt lighter as I left the room, my steps more purposeful than when I'd arrived. Letting go of pointless struggles was the best medicine for myself. No more fighting for a marriage that existed only on paper.

The hospital corridor was quiet, with only the occasional nurse hurrying past. The soft lighting cast long shadows against the pale walls. I took a deep breath, savoring the sense of decision, of finally moving forward instead of being stuck.

When I opened the door, I froze. A tall figure leaned against the wall outside – dark tailored suit, perfectly pressed trousers, Italian leather shoes polished to a shine...

The sudden encounter sent a sharp pain through my body. It felt like all my internal organs had been violently twisted together at once, an acute abdominal agony that made me gasp for breath.