Chapter 151 Chapter 151

Chapter 151 Chapter 151

Chloe’s POV 

The words were steady. There was no anger in them. Just clarity.

“You want me to end it completely,” he said.

“Yes.”

“And if I do?”

“Then maybe,” I answered, “we can begin again.”

He stepped back slightly, absorbing my condition.

“You don’t trust me,” he said.

“I trust what I see,” I replied. “And what I see is that legally, she is still your wife.”

He nodded once.

“I’ve already spoken to my attorney,” he said quietly. “The divorce is being processed.”

I did not react.

“I wanted to wait until the sentencing,” he continued. “But if this is what you need…”

“It is,” I said.

He looked toward the nursery, where Jessica slept peacefully.

“She deserves legitimacy,” I added. “She deserves to grow up knowing her mother was never hidden.”

His gaze softened at that.

“She will,” he said firmly.

“And I won’t allow myself to fall into you again until you fix it.”

Silence settled between us, heavy but not hostile.

He reached for my hand slowly this time. I allowed it.

“I accept,” he said at last. “I will finalize the divorce. I will make sure Margaret faces the full weight of what she’s done.”
There was no hesitation in his tone.

“And then?” he asked quietly.

“Then we see,” I replied.

He searched my face for any sign of weakness, any crack he could slip through. There was none.

For once, I was not desperate for his touch.

I was grounded.

“I’ll do it,” he repeated.

I nodded once.

“Good.”

He leaned forward as if tempted again, but he stopped himself this time.

Instead, he brushed his thumb gently over my knuckles and stepped away.

“Goodnight, Chloe,” he said.

“Goodnight.”

As he walked down the hallway, I felt something shift inside me. Not softness. Not surrender.

Power.
For the first time since all of this began, I was not reacting to chaos.
I was setting the terms.
And this time, he agreed.

The house felt different after that night.

Lighter.

Not because everything was fixed, but because I finally felt in control of my own future.

Drake had not argued. He had not tried to manipulate me with charm or promises. He had accepted my condition without negotiation. That alone told me he understood that this time, I was not the girl he could pull into corners and kiss until I forgot my anger.

I was a mother now.

I was stronger.

And I was no longer willing to share.

The divorce process moved quickly. Drake’s legal team worked efficiently, especially with Margaret’s criminal charges still active. Public sympathy was no longer on her side. The evidence against her was overwhelming, and the court proceedings were not leaning in her favor.

For the first time in a long while, I allowed myself to feel something close to anticipation.

Soon, there would be no shadows.

Soon, there would be no legal wife standing between us.

Jessica lay on her back in her crib one afternoon, kicking her tiny legs in the air while I watched her. Her cheeks had filled out. Her cry had grown stronger. She no longer looked fragile. She looked determined.

Like she had fought her way into this world and refused to leave.

A knock sounded at the door.

I opened it to find Mia standing there with her usual calm expression and a small bag of pastries in her hand.

“You look less stressed,” she observed as she stepped inside.

“I feel less hunted,” I replied.

She smiled faintly.

Mia had become more than a private investigator to me. Somewhere between hospital visits, secret meetings, and late-night strategy talks, she had become my closest confidant.

She had seen me at my lowest. In prison. In labor. In grief.

And she had stayed.

We sat in the living room while Jessica babbled softly in the background.

“You’re glowing,” Mia said after studying me for a moment.

“Motherhood,” I said dryly.

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s not what I meant.”

I knew what she meant.

There was a quiet satisfaction inside me now. Not arrogance. Not revenge.

Relief.

“The divorce will be finalized soon,” I told her.

“And then?”

“Then,” I said slowly, “he will be free.”

She leaned back in her seat.

“And you trust him?”

I didn’t answer immediately.

“I trust that he knows what he stands to lose,” I said finally.

Mia nodded.

“That’s not the same thing.”

“I know.”

She watched me carefully.

“You love him,” she said.

I glanced toward the nursery.

“Yes,” I admitted. “But I love myself more now.”

That made her smile.

“Good,” she said. “Because that’s the version of you that survived.”

We talked for hours. About the company. About Jessica. About the quiet rebuilding of my life.

There was comfort in having a friend who knew every detail and never judged me for the choices I made.

Drake arrived later that evening.

He paused slightly when he saw Mia, but there was no tension anymore. He had come to respect her presence in my life.

“Good evening,” he said.

“Humphrey,” Mia replied casually.

He looked at me, and I saw something in his expression that hadn’t been there before.

Admiration.

Not possession.

Not obsession.

Respect.

He walked over to Jessica first, lifting her gently from her crib.

“She smiled at me earlier,” he said quietly.

“She smiles at everyone,” I replied.

He looked offended for half a second, and Mia laughed softly.

The air felt easier now.

After Mia left, Drake stayed back.

He did not try to touch me beyond brushing his fingers lightly against mine when handing Jessica over.

But there was anticipation in the space between us.

“Paperwork will be finalized within the week,” he told me.

I nodded.

“And sentencing?”

“The prosecution is pushing for maximum time.”

I held his gaze.

“No mercy,” I said.

He didn’t hesitate.

“No mercy.”

When he stepped closer this time, he stopped just inches away.

“I’m doing this because I want you,” he said quietly.

“You’re doing this because it’s right,” I corrected.

He smiled slightly.

“Both.”

I didn’t move closer.

Not yet.

But inside, I felt something blooming.

For the first time, the future did not look like a battlefield.

It looked like something we might actually build.

Jessica stirred in my arms, her small hand reaching up blindly.

Drake touched her fingers gently.

“She’ll grow up knowing we fought for her,” he said.

“Yes,” I replied.

And this time, I allowed myself to believe it.

Mia had become my anchor.

Drake was fighting to earn his place beside me.

And I was no longer the woman begging for love.

I was the woman choosing it.

Soon, everything would be settled.

And when it was, he would be mine completely.

Not stolen.

Not shared.

Mine.