Instead of going home with her father, Charlotte went to a park filled with couples laughing and enjoying each other’s company. The sound of their laughter echoed faintly in her ears, almost like a distant memory she could no longer reach. She sat quietly on a bench, her gaze unfocused, her thoughts heavy and tangled.

Three weeks in the hospital.

Three long weeks.

And not once had Michael come to see her.

Not even a call.

Not even a message.

She should have expected this. Deep down, she had known something like this would happen, yet it still hurt more than she could bear. It wasn’t just the absence—it was the confirmation of everything she had been trying so hard to ignore.

Her fingers tightened slightly around the borrowed phone resting in her palm. The couple who had lent it to her stood a few steps away, watching her with quiet concern. They had noticed the way her hands trembled and how her breathing seemed uneven, like she was holding herself together by a fragile thread.

Charlotte lowered her head and dialed his number.

Each digit felt heavier than the last.

As the call began to ring, she stepped aside, needing a bit of distance, as though that alone would give her strength. Her heart pounded loudly in her chest, and her lips moved silently in prayer.

Please… just this once.

Pick up.

“Hello? Who is this?” Michael’s voice came through, calm and slightly drowsy.

Her breath caught in her throat.

“It’s me… please don’t hang up,” she said quickly, her voice shaky but desperate. “Let’s talk this through. You can’t do this to me, I didn’t do anything wrong.”

There was a brief pause on the other end.

Then she heard it.

The woman's voice.

Soft, familiar in the worst possible way.

Charlotte’s heart sank instantly.

“Are you serious right now?” Michael said, his tone turning cold without warning. “What part of ‘it’s over’ don’t you understand? I already sent the divorce papers. They’ve been signed.”

Charlotte froze completely.

Signed?

Her mind struggled to process the word. She had never signed anything. No papers had been given to her. No conversation had taken place.

So how…?

“No… please,” her voice trembled, barely holding together. “I know this isn’t what you want. Don’t let your mother—”

“Don’t call this number again,” he cut in sharply. “If you do, you’ll regret it.”

The line went dead.

For a moment, Charlotte didn’t move.

She just stood there, staring at the phone as if it might somehow come back to life, as if he might call back and say it was all a mistake.

But nothing happened.

Slowly, her hand dropped to her side.

She walked back to the couple and returned the phone, forcing herself to speak. “Thank you,” she murmured softly, avoiding their eyes.

They didn’t say anything, but the pity in their expressions was enough to make her chest tighten again.

Charlotte turned away and returned to her seat.

This time, she didn’t try to stop the tears.

They came freely, silently, tracing warm paths down her cheeks. She didn’t sob, didn’t make a sound—she just sat there, letting everything inside her slowly fall apart.

The laughter around her felt distant now.

Mocking.

Like the world was moving on without her.

She pressed her lips together, trying to steady herself, but it was useless. The weight in her chest only grew heavier, suffocating her little by little.

Unable to bear the stares she was beginning to attract, Charlotte stood up and made her way toward the restroom.

Once inside, she stepped into a stall and locked the door behind her.

And then she broke.

The sobs came all at once—raw, uncontrollable, echoing against the walls of the small space. She pressed her hand against her mouth, trying to muffle the sound, but it didn’t help.

Everything she had held back for weeks came pouring out.

The pain.

The humiliation.

The betrayal.

No one came to check on her.

No one knocked.

And for the first time… she didn’t expect anyone to.

She was used to this.

Being alone.

Being ignored.

Being left behind.

Minutes passed—she didn’t know how many. Time had lost meaning.

Eventually, the sobs subsided, replaced by quiet, uneven breaths.

About thirty minutes later, Charlotte stepped out of the stall.

Her eyes were swollen and red, her face pale, but her expression had changed. The pain was still there, but it had settled into something quieter… something emptier.

She walked to the sink and turned on the tap, splashing cold water on her face. She stared at her reflection for a long moment, barely recognizing the woman looking back at her.

‘I’ll be fine,’ she told herself silently.

‘I have to be.’

There was no one else she could rely on.

No one else who would pick her up.

After a few more seconds, she forced a small smile—one that didn’t quite reach her eyes—and turned away.

When she returned to the park, she chose a different spot to sit, farther from where she had been before. This time, she kept her distance, as though trying to separate herself from everything around her.

She watched the couples quietly.

They laughed, teased each other, leaned into one another like the world belonged only to them.

Charlotte looked away after a while, a faint, sad smile forming on her lips.

She had never had that.

Not even once.

Not even in the beginning.

“Hello, dear.”

Charlotte blinked, startled, and looked up.

An elderly woman stood before her, her posture straight, her expression calm, and her eyes unusually sharp despite the gentle smile on her lips.

“Are you here alone?” the woman asked.

Charlotte hesitated, then nodded slightly.

The woman studied her carefully, as though she could see through every layer Charlotte had tried to build around herself.

“You just got your heart broken, didn’t you?” she said calmly.

Charlotte stiffened.

“How—”

“I heard your call,” the woman replied simply. “And I can see it in your eyes.”

Charlotte looked away, uncomfortable. “I’m not interested in sympathy,” she said quietly.

The woman chuckled softly.

“I’m not offering sympathy.”

Charlotte frowned slightly, confused.

“I’m offering you a way out.”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

The woman took a small step closer, her gaze steady.

“Marry my son.”

Charlotte stared at her, certain she had misheard.

“What?”

“You don’t have to love him,” the woman continued calmly. “Just agree, and your life will change.”

Charlotte let out a small, disbelieving laugh, shaking her head.

“I just got divorced. Why would I jump into another marriage?”

The woman didn’t seem bothered by her reaction. Instead, she looked at her more closely, as though measuring something.

“Because staying like this will destroy you,” she said quietly.

Charlotte froze.

The words hit deeper than she expected.

Still, she shook her head.

“I’m not interested.”

She stood up, gripping her bag tightly, ready to leave.

This conversation was absurd.

Her life had just fallen apart, and now this woman was offering her another marriage like it was some kind of solution.

She turned to walk away.

“Name your price,” the woman said calmly behind her.

Charlotte stopped.

Her steps faltered.

“And I’ll pay it.”

Charlotte paused, her brows furrowed as she turned to meet the woman’s gaze. She had been featured in the news, yes—but no one really knew who her husband was. Michael had never taken her out, never introduced her properly, not even when she begged him to let her attend his dinner parties with him.

“You can come with me to the federal registry,” the woman continued calmly, as though she were discussing something ordinary. “Name your price, get your money, and marry him. He’s doing well for himself—owns a house and a successful business. You won’t have to worry about anything.”

Charlotte remained silent for a moment, her mind racing.

It sounded… tempting.

Too tempting.

All she needed was money—just enough to start over with her father. Once she had that, she could leave. Divorce wouldn’t be a problem. After all, this would only be an arrangement, nothing more.

She stood there for several minutes, thinking deeply. Reality pressed heavily against her chest. There was no stable future waiting for her, not like this. Her father struggled enough already, working a low-paying job just to survive. Adding her burden to his would only make things worse.

For a brief second, she considered calling him.

But she stopped herself.

She already knew what he would say.

He would refuse.

He would tell her to endure, to manage, to stay strong the way he always had. But this wasn’t just about endurance anymore—it was about survival.

Charlotte took a slow breath.

“Fine,” she said at last, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. “I’ll do it. But if the marriage doesn’t work out, we get a divorce. And before anything, we draft an agreement. Everything must be written.”

That was her condition.

She would take the money, secure her future, and walk away if things went wrong, which she was almost certain they would.

The kind of man described by this woman? Wealthy, successful, distant?

He would definitely be arrogant.

And men like that didn’t make good husbands.

The woman beside her simply nodded, a faint smile forming on her lips. Without saying another word, she pulled out her phone and made a call.

“He will be here soon,” she said.

Charlotte’s heart began to beat faster.

She didn’t know why.

Perhaps it was the weight of what she had just agreed to.

Perhaps it was fear.

Or maybe… something else.

Nearly an hour later, a car pulled up in front of them.

Charlotte’s eyes followed it instinctively, her body going still as the door opened.

And then he stepped out.

For a moment, she forgot how to breathe.

Tall.

Well-built.

Effortlessly composed.

There was something about him, something commanding, something cold—that made her chest tighten slightly.

He didn’t look like someone who needed this arrangement.

If anything, he looked like a man who had options.

So why was he single?

“Grandma, you wanted to see me?” His voice was deep, smooth, and carried a natural authority as he approached.

“Yes,” the woman replied, clearly pleased. “I found someone for you. She’ll make a good wife. You both should register your marriage.”

He turned his gaze toward Charlotte.

There was no warmth in his eyes.

Only indifference… and something close to irritation.

Strangely, that made Charlotte more certain of her decision.

Good.

If he didn’t like her, then this marriage wouldn’t last.

And that worked perfectly in her favor.

He glanced back at his grandmother, his expression unreadable.

So this is how she plans to fix things… he thought briefly.

Then, without much hesitation, he said, “Alright. Let’s proceed.”

Charlotte blinked in surprise.

That was it?

Just like that?

No questions. No arguments.

He agreed.

The woman beamed, clearly satisfied.

“Good. Let’s not waste time,” she said, already moving.

Fifteen minutes later, they were inside the registry building.

Charlotte barely had time to process anything before his hand closed around hers.

Firm.

Unyielding.

She instinctively tried to pull away, but his grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt—but enough to make it clear that he wasn’t letting go.

Her heart skipped.

They walked together until they stood before the official.

Only then did he release her hand.

Without a word, he reached for a sanitizer and cleaned his hands calmly, as though nothing had happened.

Charlotte watched him quietly.

Arrogant.

Exactly as she expected.

But for some reason… she didn’t feel offended.

If anything, she found it oddly amusing.

The documents were handed to them.

Two sheets. One pen.

Charlotte read through them carefully, making sure nothing was hidden or altered. Once satisfied, she signed.

He signed immediately after, without hesitation.

And just like that—

It was done.

She was married.

Again.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a key, handing it to her without looking at her.

“House thirty-four, Hilton Garden Park Road,” he said. “You can move in today or tomorrow. Don’t wait for me, I’ll be out of the country.”

Charlotte nodded slightly. “Thank you.”

That was all.

No introduction.

No conversation.

No emotion.

He turned and walked out.

Outside, his grandmother was already waiting in the car.

She stepped out the moment she saw him.

“Where’s my daughter-in-law?” she asked eagerly.

“She’s inside,” he replied casually. “She’ll move in. I’ve given her the keys.”

The woman’s face lit up instantly, satisfaction written all over her.

She turned to go inside, but he stopped her.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m bringing her with us,” she insisted.

“She needs to pack her things first,” he said calmly. “Don’t worry about her.”

She hesitated, clearly wanting to argue,bbut eventually, she gave in.

Charlotte had just made a huge decision. It was only natural she needed time.

With a small sigh, the woman returned to the car.

Moments later, they drove off.

The car screeched to a halt, and Michael stepped out, moving quickly through the mansion. He pushed the door open and strode into the room with a presence that unsettled his mother and his pregnant wife. Maria furrowed her brows, rising from the couch, concern written across her face.

“Is everything okay? You need to see yourself right now,” she asked, briefly glancing at his mistress before returning her gaze to him.

He said nothing, pacing back and forth, lost in thought, trying to figure out the next step. Impatience flashed in Maria’s eyes as she grabbed his arm, forcing him to meet her gaze.

“What is going on? Talk to me,” she demanded, shaking him until he broke free, panting. Once he steadied himself, he spoke.

“You remember the corporate trust multimillion-dollar development funds, the one Father was fighting for before he died?” he asked, watching her reaction.

Her eyes widened in anticipation. “It’s about to be released,” he continued.

“Released? I thought your father failed to secure it.”

“He did. But the case was reopened, and his request was reconsidered. The rights will be passed down to him.”

“You don’t mean it!” Maria exclaimed, bursting into excitement. His mistress smiled eagerly, sharing in the celebration. Michael’s confusion grew; he couldn’t understand why they were rejoicing when the project wasn’t secured yet.

There was a condition, and it required one person’s signature—Charlotte’s.

“Mother, we have a problem,” he said. The room went silent as their eyes met, confusion spreading. “We need her signature. She’s the choke point; without it, the board can’t lift the freeze.”

Maria laughed in disbelief. Her mind immediately connected the dots. Charlotte—the woman they had discarded and underestimated—was now essential. How she had gotten involved in the project was beyond comprehension. All her father had done was serve as their driver; he had no office experience.

“Did you say we require her signature?” Maria asked sharply. “How do we get it when she’s no longer with you? Who knows, she’s probably dead somewhere.”

“Dead? She’s at the hospital. She was attacked last night,” Michael corrected.

“She was attacked?” the mistress repeated. He nodded.

“This is a big mess. The signature on the divorce papers is fake. How do we get her real signature?” Maria paused, then turned to him, calculating. “If she agrees to sign the divorce papers, we…”

She trailed off, fixing her gaze on him.

“Did you give her the papers already?”

“No, I didn’t. Why?” He looked perplexed.

“Perfect. We can get her back with it. She hasn’t signed yet; legally, she’s still your wife.”

“Does that make sense? After how we treated her? She even had an accident. How can she forget that easily?”

Maria laughed again, hard and sharp, until she began to choke. He knew her well enough to recognize that she was playing a game, a calculated move, and there was more he needed to understand.

“Which hospital is she admitted to? As her family, we should visit her,” she said, turning toward the stairs. Michael watched her leave, mouth agape, everything moving too fast. He couldn’t imagine facing Charlotte now.

“What are you waiting for? Don’t you trust her?” his mistress snapped, pulling him from his thoughts.

“We can’t bring her back into this house. I can’t allow her to take your place again.”

She sighed, holding his hands. “I know how much you love me, but do you realize that’s a multi-billion-dollar project? It can’t be delayed.” He nodded, watching her, feeling the weight of it all.

“Get ready,” she said. “I’ll be home, waiting for you to return.”

An hour later, they arrived at the hospital where Charlotte had been admitted. Murmurs rippled through the crowd as they stepped inside; some people openly pointed at the family.

Michael walked ahead, with his mother and sister trailing, each draped in unmistakable luxury.

They were one of New York’s richest families, ranked third in the business world, and with the corporate trust funds, their influence would only grow.

“We’re here to see Mrs. Charlotte,” Molly instructed, her tone clipped. The nurse looked at her nervously.

“Sorry… do you mean Ms. Charlotte Fernandez?” the nurse asked, voice trembling under Molly’s gaze.

“Whatever. She’s the one,” Molly snapped, earning a sharp look from Maria.

They were here to appear kind, to influence the narrative, not out of genuine concern. The recent news of her divorce made Charlotte a public topic, and their presence only added fuel to the gossip.

“Yes, please. Her room is on the first floor, but I don’t think her guardian—” the nurse began.

Maria’s glare silenced her. Without another word, they strode down the corridor. At the room, they pushed the door open and entered, commanding attention.

Fernandez, lying on the bed, lifted his head, hatred surging as he met their faces. He glanced from one to another, his gaze filled with pure contempt.

Michael and Maria looked embarrassed, but Molly remained indifferent, only following because she had been instructed.

“What are you bunch of losers doing here?” Fernandez barked, venom lacing his words.

“You’re the loser here,” Molly shot back, only to be smacked on the head by Maria.

“Don’t talk back. Watch your speech,” Maria warned.

Enraged, Molly stormed out.

“I’m sorry about her attitude. You know how she can be,” Michael said, uneasy. Fernandez stood, glaring, and strode to the door.

“I know. Now leave. We don’t need you here.”

“We can settle this, Mr. Fernandez. Michael was wrong; that’s why I’m here, to make things right.”

“Michael was wrong?” Fernandez echoed, disbelief heavy in his voice. “You know exactly what he did and still act as if you didn’t support him?”

“I would never support such cruelty. She’s a sweet girl. She didn’t deserve any of this.”

“Maria, enough. Leave before I call security.” Fernandez’s heart ached at the sight of them, at the audacity and the cruelty.

“She’s still his wife, Fernandez. You can’t separate them while they’re married,” Maria pressed, trying to exploit the legal loophole they believed would force his hand.

A knock sounded at the door, and the doctor entered briskly.

“Mr. Fernandez, what’s all the noise about?”

“I’m sorry, Doctor. We have unwanted visitors. I was trying to send them away.”

Just then, the machine beside Charlotte beeped sharply, drawing everyone’s attention.