
Estella Mccarthy's phone lit up fifteen minutes after she and her husband, Alden Molina, were supposed to leave for dinner.
The message was from Gunner Salazar, Alden's chief assistant. Not from Alden himself.
"Mr. Molina's schedule has changed. He will be staying at the Four Seasons tonight. My apologies for any inconvenience."
Estella stared at the words, still dressed in the deep blue evening gown she had chosen for their dinner. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the last light faded over Boston Harbor. Behind her, a meal for two sat untouched on the dining table.
She wasn't angry. She wasn't even surprised. Only exhausted. This one-woman show had been running for three years.
The elderly housekeeper approached, her steps soft on the marble floor. Her eyes held a flicker of worry.
"Ma'am, the dinner...?" she asked softly.
Estella locked her phone, the screen going dark. Her voice was as calm and still as a frozen lake.
"Clear it, please. I've lost my appetite."
The housekeeper bowed silently and began to remove the exquisite, unwanted dishes. Each plate taken away felt like erasing a false hope.
Estella rose and walked to the study.
It was the only room where she felt she could breathe. It smelled of old books and the faint, clean scent of antiseptic, not the cloying, expensive diffusers that filled the rest of the apartment.
She remembered the day she'd signed the marriage contract.
Alden's words echoed in the silent room, as clear as if he'd just spoken them.
"This is a three-year business arrangement, Estella. It benefits both our families. Let's not complicate it with emotions."
She had been naive enough to believe that "no emotions" at least implied mutual respect.
Her phone vibrated again. A news alert.
Molina Corp's CEO, Alden Molina, was spotted at the Four Seasons bar, deep in conversation with a rival firm's executive.
Business always came first.
She looked at the blurry photo in the news brief. His profile was sharp, unmistakable. She could almost make out the faint scar on his lower lip, the one that only showed when he smiled.
For three years, Estella had quietly hoped that living as husband and wife might eventually mean something to him--that sharing a home, a life, and countless ordinary days might soften the cold distance Alden had placed between them. She had never expected a grand declaration of love. She had only wanted some small sign that she had managed to touch his heart.
But tonight made the truth painfully clear. Three years of marriage had changed nothing. Alden was still as cold toward her as he had been on the day they signed the contract. Whatever feelings she had developed for him, he had never returned them. She could not make him love her.
The last fragile hope she had held onto finally disappeared.
She opened her phone's contact list.
Her thumb hovered over a name: David Chen, Esq.
The divorce lawyer she had contacted a month ago.
She took a deep breath. Her fingertips were cold, but her hand was steady. She began to type a new message.
The text was simple.
"David, please proceed as we discussed. I am ready to terminate the contract."
She hit send without hesitation.
The confirmation appeared on the screen, stark and final.
Message Sent.





