Adrian's POV.

The house was quiet when I arrived. It always is, thanks to no kids running around.

I loosened my tie as I walked in, dropping my briefcase by the console table without glancing toward the stairs.

The familiar scent of leather and polished wood grounded me as I shut the door behind me. This room was ordered, and predictable. Nothing here demanded emotion, explanations, or apologies. I turned on the desk lamp, the warm glow spilling over neatly stacked files and my open laptop.

Work waited, it always did.

I reviewed documents, signed off approvals, responded to emails with practiced efficiency. Numbers made sense. Contracts obeyed logic. People, on the other hand, had a habit of complicating things unnecessarily.

Jane's face crossed my mind briefly, her expression in my office earlier today bugged me. It wasn't anger, nor was it hysteria. It was something colder, and controlled. I dismissed it just as quickly as the thought crossed my mind.

She had walked in without warning, at an inconvenient moment. Emotions had escalated, as they often did with her, and that was all. Tomorrow, things would settle. They always did.

My phone buzzed on the desk, and I glanced at the screen, expecting a business alert. Instead, I saw an unfamiliar number flagged with a formal header. "State Court Notification."

My fingers stilled, and for a moment, I simply stared at the screen, irritation flickering beneath my calm exterior. This was excessive. Dramatics never suited Jane. She would cool down, she always did.

I opened the message, and then, for the first time, the silence in the house felt different, it felt heavier.

A knock came on the door and I raised my head. "Who's there?"

"I've got a package for you, sir," a voice rang out from outside the door.

"Come in," I instructed.

The door opened, and a young man-one of my workers in the house, walked in with a large brown envelope. He walked over to my desk, and handed the envelope to me. "It arrived just now, sir," he said.

I raised a brow, wondering what it was about as I received the envelope from him.

Reading the address on the envelope, I discovered it was from the State Court. What was Jane up to?

I opened the envelope and my eyes widened as I pulled out its content.

Divorce papers?

I didn't wait to think about what was going on, I sprang to my feet, striding to the bedroom with full speed.

Storming into the bedroom, I called out her name but all I received was my voice echoing back to me.

"Jane!" I yelled as I searched through the bathroom and all the nooks of the room but it was void.

Just as I was bursting out of the room, I met her at the doorway. She wasn't home?

"Where are you coming from?" I asked and she ignored me and just walked pass me into the room.

"Jane, I'm talking to you!" I said but got silence again in return.

"Fine! You don't want to talk? Don't talk. But at least answer what the hell this means!" I yelled, showing her the divorce papers.

She looked up at the papers, her eyes duller than usual. "I see you've been served."

"What the hell is the meaning of this?!" I was so angry.

"It means I'm done," she responded. "I'm done with this shab we call a marriage."

Her words hit me, not from pain or guilt, but from surprise.

"So you want a divorce," I said.

A few seconds passed then she nodded, "yes."

"This has never been a real marriage after all. There's no child to bind us, no feelings to keep us together. My debt has been paid, and my service...has ended," she said, a tear rolling down her cheek, each word heavy with her emotions.

"Fine!" I nodded. "I'll give you the freedom you want," I said and the look in her eyes screamed that she was extremely disappointed in my response. But what the hell? She asked for it and she's no longer of use to me so she can be discarded.

I scanned through the papers to find her signatures already there, and I laughed curtly. "You even already signed."

"You got a pen there?" I asked.

She slowly walked to her bedside drawer and I think I saw her dwindle or probably she didn't.

She reached the drawer and pulled out a pen. She returned to me and gave me the pen with all colors drained from her face.

I took the pen from her and began signing the papers. As I looked downwards, I noticed her stagger a little. I wanted to ask her if she was alright but I discarded it anyway.

"Anything you'd like to demand?" I asked. It was common with women when they filed for divorce with their husbands.

"What I'd like to demand?" She asked.

"Money? Properties? Shares? Anything?" I gave her the options and she scoffed.

"What I'd like to demand is answers," she said, surprising me again.

"Answers?" I paused signing. "What answers?" I asked, raising a brow at her.

"Why did you cheat on me?" She asked, her voice almost a whisper.

I looked it her eyes that were reddened with tears. They should have pulled some strings at me, but they didn't. Nothing ever did. "You know the answer," I began, my voice grounded. "This marriage...is a sham," I said and her tears fell.

She scoffed, "why was I expecting a different answer?"

Tell her I did that because I wanted to get the child she couldn't give me? That was weakness.

"Here," I handed her the papers after signing. "In a few days, you'll no longer bear my name."

She scoffed again, rolling her eyes upward, trying to roll her tears back in. She took the papers from me, and nodded. "But until your name is off me completely, this should be off me too." She took off her wedding ring, raised it enough for me to see it, then dropped it on the floor, the crystal of the ring crashing as it hit the floor.

For the third time today, she surprised me again with such bold act.

"Goodbye, Mr Adrian Blackwood, it was nice doing business with you," she said.

"Yeah," I nodded, "and I with you."

With one last look at me, she walked out of the room, slamming the door so hard that it reverberated in my chest.

The door echoed long after she was gone. I stood there for several seconds, staring at the spot where she had been, my fingers still curled loosely at my side. The silence that followed wasn't dramatic. It didn't scream or accuse. It simply settled, thick and unmoving, like dust after a collapse.

I looked down, the ring lay on the floor between us, or rather, where we used to be. The crystal had chipped on impact, a thin fracture running through it. For a fleeting moment, I wondered how much it had cost. Then I dismissed the thought. Material things could always be replaced.

I bent down and picked it up, the metal cold against my palm. It felt lighter than it should have, insignificant for something that had once symbolized permanence. I placed it on the drawer without ceremony and straightened my cuffs.

This was for the best. That was the truth, or at least, the version of it I had lived by for years.

Jane had served her purpose. The debt was cleared, the scandal avoided, the company stabilized, the alliance fulfilled. There was no need to prolong a structure that no longer functioned efficiently. Emotions had no place in contracts, and marriage, especially ours, had always been one.

I still had much work to do so returning to my study was next. I made my way to the door, and upon opening it, I froze.

Jane was on the floor at the doorway, her hands empty, and the divorce papers scattered on the floor.

She had collapsed.

Jane's POV.

I opened my eyes slowly then shut them again immediately.

The light was too bright, too sharp, slicing through my skull like punishment. I lay still, breathing carefully, allowing the pounding in my head to settle before I tried again. When I finally lifted my eyelids, the world came into focus in fragments-white walls, the steady beep of a monitor, the faint scent of antiseptic. It was... a hospital ward?

My heart lurched. I tried to sit up, but a dull ache spread through my body, heavy and disorienting. Panic crept in as I scanned the room. A thin curtain, a metal stand with an IV drip, the unfamiliar stiffness of the bed beneath me.

What happened?

Memories rushed back all at once, cruel and vivid: Adrian's office, his hands on her, the courthouse, the pen in my hand, the way he signed the divorce papers without hesitation, the way he didn't stop me, didn't fight, didn't even pretend, the way my heart finally gave up. And then...darkness.

The sound of a door opening pulled me from my thoughts. I turned my head slowly, my chest tightening as I saw him.

Adrian stepped into the room from what I assumed was the restroom, sleeves rolled up, expression composed as always. He looked completely untouched by the chaos he had left in his wake, like this was just another inconvenience in his carefully controlled life.

"You're awake," he said, his tone neutral.

I stared at him, disbelief hardening into something colder. "What have you done to me?" My voice was steady, sharper than I felt. "Why am I here?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he walked past the bed and sat down on the couch, leaning back like he belonged there. Like this room, this moment, was under his authority too.

My fingers curled into the sheets. "Did you bring me here to finish what you started?" I demanded. "To silence me? To erase what I saw?"

He glanced at me then, a faint, dangerous curve to his lips. "I would," he said calmly.

Fear shot through me, instant and paralyzing.

"If I could," he added after a pause.

I realized then that I'd stopped breathing. My lungs burned as I exhaled, anger rushing in to replace the fear.

I swung my legs over the side of the bed despite the ache, my movements clumsy but determined. He watched without stopping me, without offering help.

Fine.

I reached for my shoes, slipping them on with shaking hands. I was done lying down for him, done being weak.

When I stood, the room tilted slightly, but I steadied myself and walked toward the door.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked finally.

"What I should have done a long time ago," I replied, not turning around. "Leaving you." My hand closed around the door handle.

"Not with my child."

The words hit me like a physical blow, and I froze.

Slowly, too slowly, I turned back to face him. My heart was pounding now, loud enough that I was sure he could hear it. "What did you say?" I whispered.

He stood, his expression unreadable, eyes dark and assessing. "You collapsed at home," he said evenly. "The doctor ran tests."

My throat tightened. "What tests?"

His gaze didn't waver. "You're pregnant, Jane."

The room seemed to close in around me. "No," I said immediately, shaking my head. "That's not possible. But-"

"But nothing," he interrupted. "You're pregnant, and that's all that matters."

My mind spun violently, emotions crashing into each other: shock, disbelief, fear, something dangerously close to hope that I refused to acknowledge.

I pressed a hand to my stomach instinctively.

Pregnant? After three years of nothing? After everything?

"So now what?" I asked hoarsely. "You think this changes anything?"

His jaw tightened. "It changes everything."

I laughed then, a broken, incredulous sound. "You don't get to decide that. Not anymore."

He stepped closer. "You're carrying my child."

"And I'm still leaving you," I said, meeting his gaze with everything I had left. "A child doesn't erase betrayal. It doesn't excuse what you did."

Silence stretched between us, thick and volatile.

"This isn't over," he said finally.

I opened the door. "For me, it is." I gave my final verdict and walked out, walking out this time with the awareness that the war had just begun.

I made my way down the hospital's hallway, my eyes stinging with tears that I tried hard to conceal.

Yes, I'm leaving him, but the pain is just so much, and this child unfortunately had to come at the wrong timing.

Footsteps approached me directly from behind, fast and hasty. I didn't bother to look who it was, it'd definitely be a nurse or a doctor rushing to a ward. But then a warm strong hand grasped mine from behind, bringing me to a halt. I instinctively turned to find Adrian, and my foolish heart had to make my tears drop at that very moment.

His eyes locked to mine, emotionless, and expressionless. "Why leave if you regret it?" He asked.

"I don't regret it," I responded, yanking my hand off his.

"Then what's with the tears?" He asked next.

"Isn't it too late to care?" I shot.

"Care?" He scoffed, putting his hands in his pockets. "I wasn't doing that."

"Just don't draw unnecessary eyes towards me," he added, looking around like he was looking out for something.

I looked around and that was when I noticed the people sneak-peeking on us. I scoffed, realizing all again that he only cared about his reputation.

"Why? You don't want them to know how bad of a husband you've been?" I shot at him.

"Come with me quietly and stop trying to cause a scene here," he said, offering me his hand.

I looked down at his hand and scoffed. Without further words to him, I turned and began walking out of the hospital.

He followed me and grabbed my hand but I yanked it off him. "Let go of me!" I yelled, earning just the right size of attention from the people around. Watchful eyes were on us, waiting patiently for the next headlines that I plan to give to them.

"Stay away from me, you ly-" my words got stuck in my throat as he pressed his lips to mine, sealing me up with a kiss. My eyes widened in shock as I tried hard to push him away, but he was way too stronger. He drew me in, closer to him, sealing the distance between us.

I bit his lip hard, trying to force him away, but instead, he deepened the kiss, prying deeper into my mouth.

Cameras began flashing at us, muffled whispers began flying in the air as more people came to the scene. And then it clicked. This wasn't about me, it was about what the world would believe.

No...This isn't the headline I planned to give.

Adrian's POV.

I had to stop her. I didn't know what she would do next, not with the way her voice had risen, not with the way her eyes burned with betrayal and something dangerously close to recklessness. Jane had always been quiet, restrained, careful. But this Jane...this Jane was volatile. And volatility was bad for business. It's bad for reputation. It's bad for control.

People were already watching. I noticed it before she did-the subtle pauses, the sideways glances, phones half-lifted then lowered again. A hospital was a breeding ground for whispers, and my name was not one that stayed anonymous for long. If she spoke again, if she screamed, accused, collapsed, if even one word slipped out of her mouth, headlines would be born before the hour was over.

CEO's Wife Causes Scene at Hospital.

Billionaire Marriage Crumbles Amid Scandal.

Adrian Blackwood's been a bad husband?

Unacceptable. The solution had to be immediate, and decisive, so I kissed her. Not because I wanted to, not because I felt anything stirring in my chest. What I felt was urgency, cold, sharp, and absolute.

The moment my lips met hers, the noise changed. Gasps replaced murmurs, cameras came out fully this time, speculation shifted direction: From conflict to confusion, from scandal to romance, exactly where I needed it.

Jane froze beneath my hands, her body stiff with shock, and I knew she didn't understand, at least not yet. She would later. She was perceptive like that. But right now, all anyone saw was a husband pulling his wife close in what looked like desperation.

Good.

I felt her resist, felt the anger in her push, the betrayal in the tension of her jaw. She bit my lip, hard enough to draw pain, but pain was inconsequential, pain could be managed, public fallout could not.

I deepened the kiss, sealing her protests, blocking her voice. For a brief moment, something twisted in my chest, and it wasn't guilt, neither was it regret, but it was irritation. She was making this harder than it needed to be.

When I finally pulled back, the damage control was already in motion. The hallway buzzed with excitement instead of accusation. Phones were lowered again, now filled with uncertainty instead of certainty.

Jane's eyes burned into mine, full of fury and humiliation, that, I preferred. Fury was quieter than heartbreak, fury doesn't beg, it doesn't collapse.

Just when I thought everything was fine, she slapped me. The sound sharp, and loud, satisfying in a way I didn't expect.

The sound echoed, and for a second, even the onlookers flinched. But a slap could be explained. A scene could be spun. A screaming confession, the one she was about to begin before I stepped in with a kiss, that could not be explained.

"Don't ever touch me again," she said, her voice shaking but not weak. It was strained, and controlled.

She was learning fast.

I didn't reach for her this time. I didn't stop her when she turned and walked away. That would only undo what I'd just accomplished.

Instead, I straightened my jacket, adjusted my expression into something carefully conflicted, and nodded once to the nearest nurse who looked like she'd just witnessed something tragic and intimate.

When she came near, I softened my expression like a worried husband. "You called, sir." She said.

I stepped closer, my voice dropping to a soft and troubled one. "As a woman what would you advise a husband who's trying hard to calm his very angry wife?"

"Oh, dear," her expression softened to that of pity. Exactly what I wanted. She'd be the one to spread the explanation for the slap.

"Apologies and surprises have proven to work best, sir," she responded.

I melted the more. "Are you sure about that? I've apologized and it only seemed to worsen the situation."

"Don't worry, she'll calm down as long as you keep genuinely apologizing and making efforts to fix things," she smiled.

"Thank you for the help," I said genuinely. I was really thanking her for being the tool to my public favor.

When I finally left the hospital, my phone was already buzzing with messages, alerts, and headlines that were in my favor.

But beneath all of it...beneath the strategy, the calculation, the crisis management, one thing refused to be ignored-the child.

I hadn't planned for that. Three years of sterile attempts, scheduled intimacy, doctors' appointments, and silent disappointment, and now, when everything had already collapsed, now she was pregnant.

The timing was catastrophic. A child changed the narrative entirely. A divorce with no heir could be controlled, but a divorce with a pregnant wife could not. Not without consequences, neither would it be without questions, nor without risk.

Jane thought she could walk away, but she was wrong. Not because I wanted her back, but because the child tied us together in ways neither of us could afford to pretend didn't exist. And reputation, my reputation would always come first.

So whatever war she thought she was starting, she needed to understand one thing clearly: I never entered a battle I hadn't already planned to win.