Chapter 49: The Papers

Chapter 49: The Papers

Anneliese's POV

The lights were blinding and different cameras flashed from every angle, capturing my face, my smile, and my every movement.

I had been in front of cameras all my life, you know, being the billionaire heiress, but tonight felt different.

The stage glittered under the golden chandelier above it, the kind that made the whole ballroom glow like a dream.

Models from all over the world filled the seats… women I used to admire a few years back, women I used to feel small beside just a few weeks ago.

Now, I was standing shoulder to shoulder with them, not as a model trying to prove herself, but as one of the elite models… something that still feels like a dream.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the host’s voice echoed, “we are proud to crown our new ambassador for The Global Elegance Brand… Anneliese Rowan Maddox!” It’s kind of funny how my middle name has been replaced with my family’s last name.

The applause poured in like thunderclaps and cheering filled the air.

I froze for a second, did I hear right? I stood in one spot before forcing my feet forward.

My heels clicked against the stage floor and my gown brushed against my legs.

The sash felt warm as they draped it across me, and the crystal trophy was so damn heavy in my hands.

Ambassador.

The word rang in my ears like a bell, though I stood up straight without moving, I was doing a full sprint from the stage to the entrance in my mind.

I smiled for the cameras, waved at the audience, and I said a few words into the microphone about hard work and gratitude, but inside I felt my chest tighten with something different. It wasn’t just pride, it was relief. For once, I was proud to make something of my own, not with the help of my father’s wealth, not Damien’s empire, not pity or obligation, but with my hard work and talent.

When the event ended, people crowded me with congratulations. Some faces were warm and genuine, others laced with jealousy.

My so-called rival, Clara, the ex “star model,” leaned in with a too-bright smile.

“Enjoy it while it lasts, Anne. Spotlights move fast.”

I only gave her a smile. “Of course they move fast from people who are not worth it and that’s why you are watching me from the shadows.” I smirked. I don’t like insulting or mocking people, but she left me with no choice.

Her smirk faltered on her face that was patched with tons of makeup and I walked away before she could reply. Tonight was mine, and I wasn’t going to let her bitterness stain it.

By the time I got home, exhaustion had wrapped around me like a heavy coat. My heels dangled from my fingers, and my hair, once perfect, now fell in loose waves across my shoulders. I was humming softly—something my mother used to hum when she was proud of me.

I felt as if a pot of joy was bubbling in my tummy. I was proud of myself. If only my parents were here. I felt my stomach sink but I smiled again. I hoped they were proud of me wherever they were. Of course, they should be.

I stepped into the living room and I wasn’t expecting who I saw.

Damien.

He was normally supposed to be in the study by this time but here he was, sitting on the couch in the living room with one leg crossed over the other. He had a glass of whiskey in his hand. The sight stopped me cold. Normally, he was gone before I got home, buried in work or out with people I didn’t want to know, or just stuck in his study.

“Congratulations,” he said simply, his voice calm, almost casual.

I blinked, “What?”

He raised his glass, “I saw the broadcast, Ambassador.”

Oh, so he had been watching?

“Thank you,” I said quietly, dropping my heels by the door. My voice betrayed the small, dangerous hope I felt… maybe he cared, even just a little.

For a moment, silence filled the room. He studied me with those dark eyes, the same eyes that once made me feel safe when I didn’t want to admit it. My heart stung remembering those times but I turned away, pretending to fix my hair as I tried to walk upstairs, but I couldn’t help but ask that one question in my mind.

“I didn’t expect you to be here,” I said, forcing a light laugh.

“I wanted to be the first to congratulate you in person,” he replied.

Something inside me softened at his reply. I smiled, it was small but genuine. “That’s… nice of you.”

His lips curved, but it wasn’t a smile. He set the glass down, and I noticed the folder in his other hand. It was thick and stiff.

Before I could ask, he held it out to me. “Here. You’ll need to sign these.”

I frowned, reaching for it. The weight of the folder was strange in my hands. I flipped it open, and the words almost made my heart jump out of my mouth.

DIVORCE AGREEMENT.

My fingers froze… my whole body froze.

I looked up at him, my lips parting but no sound came out. My chest felt empty as if all the air had been ripped away. “W-what?”

His gaze was steady and merciless. I can swear I had never seen him that way before. “It’s time, Anneliese. The three months are up. We had a deal, remember?”

I stared at the papers, then back at him. The Damien in front of me didn’t look cold or cruel, he looked empty, like he had already erased me from his life. Did he even have me on his mind before?

“I…” my voice cracked, as the words kept breaking in my throat. “Is it… is it really time?”

“Yes,” he said firmly with no hesitation. “Sign it tonight. I want it filed tomorrow.”

The finality in his tone cut through me like glass. My mind flashed with every moment we had shared—the arguments, the accidental laughter, the night he held me on the plane, the warmth of his hand against mine. Had none of it mattered to him?

I swallowed hard, my throat aching more than I expected. I hated how I was feeling but I couldn’t stop it. “Damien…”

He turned away, already walking toward the door leading outside. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Something inside me shattered and the words came out without thinking. “That’s it? After everything?”

He paused, his back still to me. For a second, I thought he might turn, say something different. But he only said, “Goodnight, Anneliese,” before disappearing outside.

The silence he left behind was deafening.

I sank onto the couch, the folder still in my lap. My hands trembled as I stared at the papers, the black ink blurring through the tears that filled my eyes. I hated how weak I felt, how much my heart ached for someone who clearly didn’t want me.

I wanted to scream, to throw the papers at the wall, to burn them. Instead, I pressed my palms against them, holding them close like I could squeeze answers from the lifeless pages.

So this was it, the end.

I was his wife for three months, but to him, I was never more than a contract.

I closed my eyes, my chest heaving. “Why does it hurt so much?” I whispered to the empty room.

There was no answer, only silence.