Chapter 83 Irreconcilable Differences
Elena: POV
He flinched like I'd hit him.
"Okay," he whispered. "Okay."
We got out of the car.
---
The courthouse was busy—people everywhere, rushing between offices with folders and phones and conversations that mattered more than ours.
Julian led me through security, his hand still possessively placed on my waist. Even when I tried to push him away, he wouldn't budge and said somewhat plaintively in my ear, "Just let me hold you for this last little while. Don't reject me."
I ended up not pushing him away.
We took the elevator to the fifth floor. Neither of us spoke. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, harsh and clinical.
My heart beat faster—panic or relief, I couldn't tell which.
The elevator dinged. Doors slid open.
"This way," Julian said softly.
We walked down a long hallway, past closed doors and bulletin boards covered in official notices. My heels clicked against the tile floor—click, click, click—marking time like a countdown.
Finally, we reached Room 523.
Family Court - Dissolution of Marriage
Julian opened the door.
Inside was exactly what I'd expected—a small waiting area with uncomfortable chairs and a reception desk where a tired-looking woman sat behind bulletproof glass.
"Can I help you?" she asked without looking up from her computer.
"We're here to file for divorce," Julian said.
His voice was steady. Controlled. Like he was ordering coffee instead of ending our marriage.
The woman glanced up. Did a double-take when she saw him—of course she did, everyone always did—then recovered quickly.
"Names?"
"Julian Sterling and Elena Vance Sterling."
She typed something. Clicked her mouse a few times. "Do you have your marriage certificate?"
Julian pulled a folder from his jacket. Handed it through the slot in the glass. The woman opened it, scanned the documents inside.
"You'll need to fill out these forms." She passed a stack of papers back through. "And there's a filing fee of $210."
Julian pulled out his wallet. Slid his black Amex through the slot.
The woman processed it. Handed him a receipt.
"Once you've completed the forms, bring them back to me. You'll receive a court date within 30 days for the final hearing."
"Thank you."
We moved to the corner of the waiting area. Julian sat down, spread the forms across his lap. Started filling them out with quick, precise strokes.
I watched him write.
Petitioner: Julian Alexander Sterling
Respondent: Elena Marie Vance Sterling
Grounds for Dissolution: Irreconcilable Differences
My chest tightened. Irreconcilable differences. Such a sterile way to describe the complete destruction of everything we'd been.
Or maybe we'd never been anything at all.
Julian finished the first page. Moved to the second. His handwriting was neat, controlled—just like everything else about him.
"Assets?" he asked without looking up.
"Keep them all."
His pen stopped mid-stroke. "Elena—"
"I don't want anything, Julian. I just want out."
"You'll need money. A place to live. I'm not going to let you walk away with nothing—"
"You already did." The words came out sharp. Bitter. "The night you let me bleed in that alley. The night you locked me in this mansion like a prisoner. The night you—" I stopped. Swallowed hard. "I already have nothing. So what's the difference?"
He set the pen down. Turned to face me, and fuck—there were tears in his eyes. Actual tears.
"I'm sorry," he whispered. "God, Elena, I'm so fucking sorry—"
"Don't."
"Please—"
"Just finish the forms, Julian. Let's get this over with."
He stared at me for a long moment. Then he picked up the pen again.
Kept writing.
---
Twenty minutes later, we were done.
Julian stood, walked back to the reception desk. Slid the completed forms through the slot.
The woman reviewed them. Stamped each page with a loud THUNK that echoed in the small room.
"You'll receive notification of your court date by mail," she said. "Both parties must appear in person for the final hearing."
"Understood."
She handed Julian a copy of the paperwork. "Good luck."
Luck.
Yeah. We'd really need that.
Julian turned away from the desk. Looked at me standing there in my black dress with my bandaged wrists hidden under long sleeves.
"It's done," he said quietly.
"Good."
We walked back through the hallway. Took the elevator down. Stepped out into the sunshine that felt too bright, too warm, too fucking alive for what we'd just done inside.
Julian stopped at the bottom of the courthouse steps.
I kept walking.
"Elena—"
His hand caught my wrist. I spun around, yanked free.
"Don't touch me."
"I just—" He ran his hand through his hair. "Where will you go?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yes. It matters. You can't just—"
"I can do whatever I want now, Julian. That's the whole point, isn't it?" I stepped back. Put more distance between us. "Mr. Sterling, I hope for the rest of your life, we never see each other again. Take care of yourself."
My heart twisted painfully as I spoke those words, but despite everything, I still genuinely wanted him to be okay.
His face went white. "Elena, please—"
But I was already turning away. Walking down the street. Away from him. Away from the courthouse. Away from three years of being nothing more than a secret he kept in the dark.
This time, he didn't follow.
---
I made it two blocks before I had to stop. Leaned against a building, pressed my palms against the cool brick.
It's over. It's finally over.
My phone buzzed. Sophia.
I answered. "Hey."
"How did it go?"
"It's done. We filed."
"Oh, babe. Where are you? Come to my place. I'll order food—"
"Actually," I interrupted. "I think I need to get out of the city for a while."
Silence. Then: "What do you mean?"
"I'm thinking Florida. My mom's there. I could just... I don't know. Sit on a beach. Clear my head. Figure out what the hell I'm supposed to do now."
"Elena—"
"I can't stay here, Soph. Everywhere I look, there's a reminder. The mansion. The office. That fucking nursery—" My voice broke. "I need to leave."
"Okay," she said softly. "Okay. When?"
"Soon. Maybe next week. I'll wrap things up here, then just... go."
"How long?"
"I don't know. A month? Two? However long it takes to feel like I can breathe again."
Another pause. "You promise you'll be okay? You're not going to—"
"I'm not going to do anything stupid," I said, even though we both knew I'd already tried. "I just need space. And time. And my mom."
"All right. But you call me every day. I mean it."
"I will."
We hung up.
I pulled up my mom's contact. Typed out a message.
"Hi Mom. I know you just got settled, but I was thinking maybe I could come visit for a while? I need to get out of New York."
Her response came almost immediately.
"Oh sweetheart, of course! When? I'll set up the guest room!"
I stared at her message. At the warmth in those exclamation points. The assumption that this was just a normal visit.
She didn't know.
About the divorce. The baby. Any of it.
I'd have to tell her eventually.
But not today.
"Maybe next week? I need to tie up some loose ends here first."
"Perfect! We can go to the beach, have margaritas, just relax. It'll be good for you, honey."
Relax.
Yeah. That's what I needed.
To sit on a beach and pretend my life hadn't just imploded. To drink margaritas with my mom and act like everything was fine.
To figure out who Elena Vance was when she wasn't Mrs. Julian Sterling anymore.