Chapter 90 *
Damon’s POV
I kissed her.
Not gentle. Not asking permission.
I kissed her like I was trying to prove something. To her. To myself. To the entire fucking universe that kept trying to take her away from me.
Her eyes were wide. Shocked. Those eyes that had been avoiding mine all goddamn day.
She made a sound. Somewhere between surprise and protest.
I didn't stop.
My hand moved from her chin to the back of her neck. Fingers tangling in her hair. Holding her in place.
She pushed at my chest. Weak. Halfhearted.
That only made me angrier.
I pressed closer. Let her feel the weight of me. The heat. The barely controlled fury that had been building since the moment I thought I'd lost her.
Since the moment those Bratva bastards grabbed her.
Since the moment I saw the blood.
Since the moment the doctor said there was no baby.
And now she wanted to leave. Wanted a divorce. Like none of it mattered.
Like I didn't matter.
My grip tightened. The kiss turned harder. More demanding.
This wasn't romance. This wasn't tenderness.
This was possession. Pure and simple.
She was mine. And I was going to make damn sure she remembered that.
I finally pulled back. Breathing hard.
She stared at me. Lips parted. Face flushed.
Her chest was rising and falling fast.
I could see her pulse jumping in her throat.
I wanted her rattled. Wanted her to feel even a fraction of what I'd been feeling all day.
"Marriage is marriage." My voice came out rough. "There's no such thing as a fake marriage."
She blinked. Opened her mouth.
I cut her off.
"You're my wife. Damon Wolfe's wife. That's not up for debate."
I leaned back slightly. Put some space between us. But my hand stayed on the bed. Caging her in.
"Even without the baby, I'm not giving you a divorce. Ever."
Her throat moved. She swallowed hard.
I watched her eyes dart away. Watched her fingers twist in the hospital sheets.
Her heart was racing. I could see it in the way her breathing hitched.
Maybe it was the kiss. Maybe it was what I'd just said.
Either way, she was affected. And that was something.
"I never wanted a real marriage with you." The words came out small. Almost a whisper.
But I heard them.
Every single one.
My jaw clenched so hard I thought my teeth would crack.
"This was all supposed to be for the baby," she continued. Still not looking at me.
I felt my hands curl into fists. Felt my knuckles go white.
Part of me wanted to grab her shoulders. Shake her. Make her understand.
The other part wanted to walk away. Before I said something I couldn't take back.
I forced myself to breathe. To stay calm.
"We'll have other kids." The words came out through gritted teeth. "We have time."
She was playing with her fingers now. Twisting them together. "Even if we have kids later..." She paused. Bit her lip. "What does that have to do with now?"
She finally looked up at me. Those eyes uncertain. Almost guilty.
But she said it anyway.
And something cold settled in my chest.
I studied her face. Really looked at her.
She was twenty-two years old. Just got accepted to college. Had her whole life ahead of her.
In her mind, she had time. Years to waste on stupid shit. On dating. On figuring herself out.
She wanted a "real relationship." Whatever the fuck that meant.
To her, marriage was a cage. A trap. Something that would steal her youth and freedom.
And I was the warden.
"So what are you saying?" My voice came out flat.
I already knew the answer. Could see it in the way she couldn't meet my eyes.
But I needed to hear it. Needed her to say it out loud.
She took a breath. Looked down at her hands.
When she spoke, her voice was barely audible.
"So... I want a divorce."
The temperature in the room dropped to freezing.
I stared at her. At this woman I'd protected. Worried over. Fucking married.
The woman I'd been ready to burn the world down for.
And all she wanted was out.
The irony was almost funny. Almost.
I could have any woman in New York. Hell, in the country. Women who would kill for the chance to be Mrs. Damon Wolfe.
But the one woman I actually wanted? The one I'd chosen?
She was sitting here asking for a divorce like I was some kind of mistake.
I really looked at her. Saw her for what she was.
"Scarlett." My voice came out different now. "You don't have a heart."
She opened her mouth. Tried to say something.
Nothing came out.
I pushed off the bed. Stood up straight.
Looked down at her one last time.
"You're fucking cold-blooded, you know that?"
I turned around. Walked to the door.
Didn't look back.
The hallway was empty. Quiet. My footsteps echoed on the linoleum floor.
If I just wanted a kid, I could have done this differently. Could have hired the best nannies. The best private doctors. Given her a massive payout after the birth and walked away with full custody.
She would have been out of my life. Out of my thoughts. Just another transaction.
But that's not what I wanted.
I wanted her. As my wife. As my partner. As the woman who stood beside me and built something real.
I wanted to give her everything. And she was treating this like an expired contract.
The difference was clear now. Painfully clear.
She was rational to the point of ruthless. Always knew when to cut her losses. Always knew what she wanted.
And right now, what she wanted was freedom.
My devotion. My protection. My feelings.
All of it was worthless in her cost-benefit analysis.
Maybe that's what happens when you grow up with nothing. When survival is the only thing that matters.
You learn to see everything as transactional. Everything as temporary.
Nothing is permanent. Nothing is sacred.
Not even marriage.
I reached the end of the hallway. Found a window. Pushed it open.
The cold air hit my face. Sharp and biting.
I pulled out a cigarette. Lit it.
Drew the smoke deep into my lungs. Held it. Let it burn.
The nicotine helped. Slightly.
Took the edge off the rage. The frustration. The goddamn helplessness of it all.
I finished one cigarette. Lit another.
Stood there watching the city lights. Trying to calm down.
Trying to figure out what the fuck I was supposed to do now.
Ten minutes passed. Maybe fifteen.
Finally, I turned around. Headed back to her room.
I'd been too harsh. I knew that.
I needed to apologize. Needed to try again. To make her understand.
I pushed open the door.
My pupils dilated.
The bed was empty.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out. Saw her name on the screen.
Opened the message.
"I've made my decision about the divorce."
"I don't want anything from you."
"No money. No assets. Nothing."
"Please have your lawyer draw up the papers."
"I'll meet you at the courthouse."
"I'm sorry."
My hand tightened on the phone. The screen cracked under the pressure.
My face went dark. Darker than it had ever been.
I pulled up Axel's number. Hit call.
He answered on the first ring.
"Boss?"
The words came out through clenched teeth. Each one forced.
"My wife just fucking ran."