Chapter 54 No Job, No Marriage.
Vivienne's POV
And my mind wandered to a far place. Back to three years ago. Back to that dark alley where I found him.
I fell for all of it. For him. For us. For this life we built together.
Somewhere along the way, I forgot it was supposed to be temporary. I forgot this was just a contract with an expiration date. I let myself believe that maybe he loved me too.
That maybe somewhere between the business dinners and the quiet mornings and the nights we spent wrapped up in each other, this contract marriage had turned into something real. Something worth keeping.
But I was wrong.
I was so terribly wrong.
When he said the word divorce, the room didn't explode like it does in movies. There was no dramatic music playing in the background. No thunder crashing outside. No glass shattering.
I was surprised by that. Everything just went quiet instead. Too quiet, like the kind of quiet that comes right before something terrible happens. It was the kind of quiet that felt like the walls themselves had been preparing for this day, holding their breath, waiting for this exact moment.
Not the peaceful kind of quiet you get on a Sunday morning when you're drinking coffee and reading a book. Not the comfortable silence between two people who understand each other without words.
This was different. This was the kind of quiet that swallows every sound around you. The kind where your ears start ringing and you're not sure if you actually heard what you think you heard. The kind that makes you question your own reality.
I remember staring at his lips after he said it. Just staring, watching them, waiting for them to move again. Waiting for him to take it back. To laugh maybe, and tell me it was some sick joke. To say he didn't mean it. To say anything except what he had just said.
He didn't.
He just stood there at the window, his back still turned to me, his shoulders straight and stiff like he had already made peace with this decision long before tonight. Like he had been planning this for weeks, maybe months, and I was the only one who didn't see it coming.
I didn't believe him at first. Not really. Even after he said it. Even after he walked away from me without looking back. Part of me still thought maybe I had misunderstood. Maybe I had heard wrong. Maybe tomorrow morning he would wake up and smile at me and everything would go back to normal.
I didn't believe him until the lawyer messaged me not long ago. Until I saw those cold, professional words on my phone screen. That's when it became real. That's when my brain finally accepted what my heart had been refusing to believe.
This is really happening. He really wants to end this. End us.
I kept thinking over and over, This can't be happening to me. Not to my marriage. Not to the life I worked so hard to build. Not to the life I prayed for every single night. This was supposed to be my second chance. My happy ending after years of struggling and surviving in the hands of Margot.
This was supposed to be the good part of my life finally starting.
I felt like someone had pulled the floor out from under my feet, like I was falling through space with nothing to grab onto. But somehow I was still standing there in our bedroom, still upright, still breathing. Still nodding like an idiot, pretending I was okay when everything inside me was screaming and breaking apart.
My chest tightened. Not dramatically like a heart attack or anything you see on TV. Just enough to make breathing feel like work. Like I had to remind myself to do it. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat. My hands went cold and numb, my fingers tingling like they had fallen asleep. My mind started racing, spinning out of control, replaying every fight we'd ever had. Every silence that lasted too long. Every moment I ignored that little voice in my head that whispered something was wrong.
What did I miss? When did he stop loving me? Was there ever a moment he actually loved me at all?
But I couldn't just sit there all night drowning in my thoughts and questions that had no answers. I had to keep moving. Had to keep going through the motions because that's what you do when your world falls apart. You get up. You get dressed. You pretend everything is normal.
So I dressed up the next morning. Put on my usual work clothes, a navy blue pencil skirt and a cream colored blouse. I did my makeup even though my hands were shaking. Put on my heels. Brushed my hair. I looked at myself in the mirror and barely recognized the woman staring back at me with empty eyes.
At least there are no kids yet, I thought as I grabbed my bag and keys. That's one small mercy in all of this mess. No children to hurt. No little faces to explain this to. No custody battles to fight. It's still relatively easy to just walk away and move on with our lives like these three years never happened.
But first I had to go to the office. The company we both worked at. The company I had helped him save from his step mother and son's schemes. The company where I had spent countless late nights working beside him, building presentations, analyzing reports, making phone calls, doing everything I could to help him succeed.
I drove there on autopilot, not really seeing the roads or the other cars. My mind was somewhere else entirely, stuck in a loop of memories and regrets.
When I got to the building, I parked in my usual spot and walked through the familiar lobby. I said good morning to the security guard like I always did. I stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for the top floor where the executive offices were located. Where my office was right next to Rapheal's.
The elevator ride felt longer than usual. My stomach was in knots. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. What would I say if I saw him? Should I pretend everything was fine? Should I confront him in front of everyone? Should I just ignore him completely?
When the doors finally opened, I walked down the hallway toward my office. My heels clicked against the marble floor, echoing in the quiet morning air. Most people weren't in yet. It was still early.
I reached my office door and pulled out my access card from my bag. The same card I had used every single day for the past three years. I swiped it against the reader like I had done a thousand times before.
The light flashed red.
Access denied.
I frowned and tried again, thinking maybe I hadn't swiped it properly. Maybe the reader was acting up like it sometimes did.
Red light again. Access denied.
My heart started racing faster now. A cold feeling of dread spread through my chest like ice water in my veins.
I tried a third time, my hands shaking now as I held the card against the reader.
Red. Denied. Not authorized.
What the hell is going on?
I stood there frozen in the hallway, staring at that stupid red light, trying to understand what was happening. My card was working fine yesterday. I had used it to get into my office, to access the conference rooms, to use the executive elevator. Nothing had changed. Nothing should have changed.
Except everything had changed last night when Marcus asked for a divorce.
While I was still standing there confused, still looking for some logical explanation, still hoping this was just some technical error, my phone buzzed loudly in my bag.
My hands fumbled as I pulled it out, my fingers clumsy and cold. I looked at the screen and saw a new email notification.
From HR. Human Resources.
My stomach dropped like a stone.
I opened the email with trembling fingers, already knowing it was going to be bad. Already feeling the ground disappearing beneath me again.
The message was short. Professional. Cold.
"Work Appointment Terminated. Effective Immediately. Please return all company property to the HR department by the end of business day today. Your final paycheck will be processed within two weeks. Thank you for your service to the company."
That was it.
No explanation. No apology. No acknowledgment of the three years I had given to this company. The late nights. The weekends. The vacations I never took. The ideas I contributed. The crisis situations I helped handle. The presentations I built. The
deals I helped close.
Just terminated. Like I was nothing. Like I had never mattered at all.