"Leonidas, if you dare walk out that door, I’m filing for divorce. Right now."

Clementine’s voice sliced straight through the hush of the candlelit ballroom, her microphone screaming feedback as the words burst out. Every guest, decked out in their finest couture and silk, froze mid-conversation. Shock hung thick in the air.

Behind them, the LED screen that had glowed with *Happy Second Anniversary* now blared bright: *Congratulations on Your New Union, Mr. Lopez.*

Those dazzling words cast a harsh spotlight right on the woman in white, curled soft and safe in Leonidas’s arms.

"You done making a fool of yourself?" Leonidas asked. He hoisted the fainted Samara closer as he stepped forward, his huge frame towering over Clementine. "On our own anniversary, you really gotta turn us into the main circus act?"

Quiet snickers and biting whispers rippled through the crowd. Some guy even lifted his champagne glass like he was cheering. "Clementine’s at it again with her over-the-top drama."

"Didn’t she fake a broken wrist last month just to drag Leonidas home early? What’s her stupid game this time?"

Through all the snickering, Clementine just tilted her chin up. Her voice stayed just as calm as it ever was. "Let’s get divorced. Three’s a crowd, and I’m bowing out."

"Clem, don’t be rash. Uncle’s just stuck between a rock and a hard place…" Mckenna Lopez murmured, trying to nudge her into backing down.

"Stuck between a rock and a hard place? What a pretty little excuse!" Clementine’s lips curled into a cold, sharp smile. "Does that cover all the little ‘helping sessions’ Leonidas’s given his sister-in-law, huh? Like when her bathroom floor was ‘too slippery’ and he had to help her? Or when he fed her medicine mouth-to-mouth?"

The whole ballroom went dead quiet.

Everyone knew Clementine had a reputation for throwing all caution to the wind and causing a scene, but this was the first time most of them had seen it live—this woman who truly didn’t care what she said out loud.

Some people even started pitying Leonidas, wondering how he put up with her crazy antics all these years.

"That’s enough," Leonidas growled, his voice barely holding back a roar of rage.

Mckenna hurried after him as he walked away. "Uncle, you really gonna leave Clem here all alone like that?"

"Our marriage is none of your goddamned business," Leonidas shot back icily. He didn’t even glance over his shoulder as he kept walking.

Mckenna stayed rooted to the spot. The chandelier light glinted off her gold necklace when she tilted her head, and her polite, put-together mask never slipped. When she turned back to the crowd—she looked so much like Leonidas, it was almost uncanny—a strange little glint sparked in her eyes. She offered the crowd a soft, apologetic smile. "Please forgive us. My uncle just can’t bear to see any harm come to my brother’s widow. Let’s get back to the evening, shall we?"

Clementine stood alone under all the bright, blazing lights. Her fingers, crusted with crystals from her gown, dug so hard into her palm she didn’t even feel the pain.

Her unrequited love for Leonidas had stretched on for ten whole years.

It all started when she moved to a new neighborhood with her grandparents, right next door to the Lopez family.

The first time she went over to their house, she saw Leonidas walking down the grand staircase.

He was seventeen or eighteen back then, dressed in a crisp white racing suit, and he looked so handsome it hurt—cool, untouchable, everything a young girl could dream of.

Little Clementine fell in love at first sight.

Through her friendship with Mckenna, she’d picked up the same affectionate nickname everyone in the family used for him.

But when her bright, happy "Uncle" left her lips, his face went ice cold. "I’m not your uncle. Stop calling me that."

Back in the day, Clementine used to laugh at that memory, amused that she’d actually managed to fluster the always-composed Leonidas.

Now, when she thought about it? It wasn’t funny anymore.

That very first meeting, there’d been an uncrossable gap between them from the start.

Maybe it was fate—their marriage was never supposed to be born from love.

And it was true. Two years ago, they married because their families arranged it.

He never loved her, but he’d treated her with respect after the wedding, checked all the right boxes, went through all the proper motions.

But after his brother died suddenly, Leonidas’s once-stoic heart started to wander.

For Samara, he’d drop everything and leave Clementine hanging without a second thought.

Planned date nights.

Her birthday…

And now, even their second anniversary—the one day that was supposed to be just theirs—Leonidas could abandon her without even hesitating.

Of course he knew this would turn her into the laughingstock of the whole city.

Of course he knew. He just didn’t care.

What he didn’t know was that this party was his last chance. Her last try to make it work.

Clementine looked down at her hands.

These hands, once able to adjust tiny, millimeter tolerances with perfect precision, didn’t deserve to be chained to a marriage with no love in it.

Thankfully, it wasn’t too late.

---

Late that night, back at the villa, Leonidas pushed open the bedroom door. He found Clementine tossing her wedding ring into the dressing table drawer.

The same ring he’d slid onto her finger three hours earlier at dinner—a hollow reminder of all his empty promises.

Leonidas flicked a glance at the divorce papers spread across the table. "Really going all out this time, aren’t you?"

He wrapped an arm around her waist, his voice soft and intimate, like he was whispering sweet nothings into her neck.

As he spoke, his hand slipped slowly under the hem of her nightgown.

Clementine knew exactly what he wanted.

Every single time she made a scene, this was how he shut her up.

Before, she’d fooled herself into thinking it meant he cared, that he just couldn’t say it out loud.

She believed they could fix any fight between the sheets, that their differences could melt away with intimacy.

But not tonight.

Even so, she couldn’t break free of his grip.

Seeing Clementine go still and unresponsive, Leonidas started kissing her neck slowly, patiently from behind.

Her breath went ragged. Whenever Leonidas was gentle with her, she’d always been completely defenseless.

Until she caught it—That familiar scent of clove.

The fragrance she hated with every fiber of her being. It just so happened to be Samara’s favorite perfume.

In a burst of white-hot rage, Clementine bit down hard.

The metallic tang of blood filled the space between them.

Leonidas only paused for a split second before he lifted her clean off the ground, and the two of them went tumbling back onto the mattress together.

Leonidas’s control snapped, and he couldn’t hold back any longer…

Leonidas Lopez kissed her lips, his voice rough and gravelly. “All this fuss just for this, huh?”

Clementine Stephens froze. It felt like someone had just punched a clean hole right through her chest. The bitter tang flooded her mouth—she couldn’t tell if it was from his kiss or her own heart breaking. All those nights she’d once thought were sweet with giddy uncertainty, that cedar scent she’d been hopelessly hooked on? They’d just been laced with his biting sarcasm all along.

Clementine stared at the shifting splotches of light crawling across the ceiling and murmured, “Yeah. It’s all just a stupid game between men and women.”

“Turn off the lights. Cut to the chase.”

Turning off the lights had always been Clementine’s rule. Leonidas didn’t love her— the most obvious proof was right in his eyes. Even in their most intimate moments, when he was at his gentlest, those eyes never held a single spark of warmth. He’d always gone along with it before… or maybe he just hadn’t cared enough to argue. But tonight, he was different. The second “turn off the lights” left her mouth, he seemed to snap. He drove her collarbone hard into the mattress, growling, “Why? You need me blindfolded? Do my eyes ruin your little fantasies?”

Leonidas’ eyes were stormy, churning with unreadable emotions she couldn’t begin to parse. Maybe it was the embarrassment from the gala that had him this fired up. But he was right about one thing. If his eyes hadn’t always been so cold, so indifferent, she could’ve lied to herself and believed he still cared… just a little.

“Yeah,” Clementine challenged, lifting her chin and raising an eyebrow. A sharp, stabbing pain jolted through her core the second the words left her mouth.

Exhausted, Clementine fell into a deep sleep while Leonidas slipped out to the study for a cigarette. His assistant, Uriel Scott, called. “Mr. Lopez, the gala footage is deleted. It won’t leak. And as for Mrs. Lopez, the baby’s stabilized now.”

Leonidas only grunted, “Hmm,” voice completely flat.

Uriel hesitated for a beat before pressing on, “Mr. Lopez, she said she’s still in a lot of pain. Are you going to go see her?”

Leonidas’ tone turned ice-cold. “Am I a fucking painkiller? Will her pain just stop if I show up?”

Uriel stiffened. “Understood.”

When the call ended, Leonidas stubbed out his cigarette and headed back to the master bedroom. Clementine was sleeping peacefully, faint moonlight spilling through the window and gilding her face. She was curled up on her side, long lashes fanned out across her cheeks just like a beloved fairytale princess. By day, that princess was all sharp edges and rebellion. But asleep, she was so much softer, so much sweeter and docile. Leonidas stepped closer to the bed— maybe the night was just too soft, too enchanting. All the hard, bitter resentment in his chest melted away. For the first time ever, he actually wanted to climb into bed beside her.

And then he heard her mumble, “This time… I really don’t want you anymore, …”

Her voice thickened with quiet sorrow, and she sniffled softly in her sleep.

Leonidas’ gaze snapped cold. His leg froze mid-climb into the bed.

The next morning, Clementine woke to cold sheets beside her. Her lashes fluttered open, and a flash of bitter mockery flickered in her eyes. Just as she expected— he’d left again. The last tiny scrap of her fantasy was well and truly shattered. After getting washed up, she grabbed the divorce papers and headed downstairs.

Leonidas was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping his black coffee. Morning light flooded through the floor-to-ceiling windows, gilding his silhouette in that same dignified, cold elegance he always carried, like last night’s madness had never happened. Clementine pushed the papers across the table toward him, slow and steady. “Sign it.”

The black coffee swirled faintly in its porcelain cup. Leonidas’ expression darkened, something like resignation weighing on his features. “Wasn’t I enough for you last night?”

His cold, mocking words from the night before crashed through her mind all over again, chilling her to the bone. “Leonidas, I don’t want this anymore. I really don’t.”

He set his coffee cup down hard, the porcelain clattering loud against the table, his eyes glacial. “Clementine, even your nonsense has a limit.”

“A limit?” Clementine arched an eyebrow. “I don’t know what that word means. If you can’t stand me, just get the hell out already.”

The roar of an idling engine drifted in from the driveway. Leonidas bit down on his anger and stood up. “I’m going on a business trip. I’ll bring you back a gift.”

This was just one of his little “appeasement” tricks. Now, it didn’t move her at all. “Give it to your sister-in-law.”

Leonidas’ grip on his suitcase handle tightened so hard his knuckles went white.

Silence hung thick in the room. He walked out of the villa without a single word. Clementine felt completely drained, but she remembered he’d be gone for months, possibly. She grabbed the divorce agreement and hurried after him right away.

The spring wind out in the country was brutal. The second she pulled open the front door, the papers caught the gust, spinning apart and scattering across the drive, out of her reach.

“Ugh, perfect!” She huffed, cheeks puffing out in frustration at her own carelessness.

Leonidas watched from the car, his gaze darkening, before he pushed open his door and stepped out.

In the crisp, chilly spring air, Leonidas pulled her into a warm, cedar-scented embrace. “A farewell hug,” he said, voice softer than she’d ever heard it.

Clementine froze. The “farewell hug” was her rule— one she’d made for him years ago, demanding one every time he left for work or a trip. Once, it would’ve made her heart soar. Now? It didn’t even stir her. It just made her skin itch.

It felt like being dragged back to humiliate her old, desperate self all over again. Just as she started to squirm away, he let her go.

Clementine’s lips curled into a faint, mocking smirk. See? It was just routine for him. And she’d always been the idiot who got too emotional, like a puppy tasting honey for the first time.

She’d made up her mind: she’d never mourn the soft, doormat version of herself ever again. She watched him get in his car and drive away.

“Leonidas, goodbye!”

She yelled it after the retreating car, just as the Bentley’s windshield crumpled one of the scattered divorce pages against the glass. Inside the car, as Clementine’s silhouette shrank to a tiny black dot in the rearview mirror, Leonidas loosened his tie. For some reason he couldn’t name, something felt different about her this time. He just couldn’t put his finger on what, not yet.

Clementine Stephens pressed her shoulder to the second-floor bay window, staring out at the street below for what felt like hours. Long enough for the car to vanish completely around the bend.

After a while, she finally tore her gaze away, her eyes throbbing with that dull, familiar ache. She lifted a trembling finger to brush the faded wedding decals stuck to the glass. Leonidas Lopez had always favored a muted, cool color palette, and their wedding day had been completely stripped of any festive decor. The day after we said I do, I stood right here on this windowsill and put these up myself, she remembered.

He’d frowned so deep his brow looked like it would stay that way forever, but he’d still let the decorations stay up in our bedroom. That small concession had made her giddy for months. But after that day? He never spent a single night in that room again.

Every lonely night she spent alone, those bright red cutouts started to look less like wedding decor and more like two leering faces, taunting her. She should’ve known from the start: a man like him would never bend for anyone. He wouldn’t even give her the decency of a straight-out no.

The thin paper, faded and brittle from two years of sun, tore apart at the lightest touch. Just like their marriage—over before anyone even noticed it had cracked. Clementine set to wiping the room clean of anything that was hers after the wedding. Every little thing she’d added—those decals, their wedding portrait, all of it went straight into the trash.

Her clothes, her jewelry, every worn and unused thing she’d brought into the marriage—she packed them all up and sent them off to auction. They’d signed a prenup, and she wasn’t entitled to a single cent of Leonidas’s fortune. But the fine print said all her personal items—jewelry, clothes, all of that—was hers to keep. She wasn’t stupid enough to leave her own things behind for him to throw out.

As dusk crept in, Mckenna Lopez knocked softly on the bedroom door. She glanced at Clementine, still hovering by the window, and didn’t say a word. She just hefted the stacked, packed boxes and hauled them out to the car one by one.

On her third trip up, Clementine dragged the last suitcase behind her, her voice steady and light. “Let’s go.”

“You sure you didn’t leave anything behind?” Mckenna asked, taking the handle from her.

“Nothing that matters anymore.”

Still, Mckenna did one last sweep of the room. Her gaze caught on something peeking out from under the foot of the bed, a crumpled corner of paper, and she paused.

She pulled it out, and it unfolded into an obstetrics clinic medical report. Patient name: Clementine Stephens. Date… one month ago?

Clementine turned to find Mckenna frozen, shock written all over her face as she stared at the positive pregnancy result. She walked over, her voice soft as silk. “Six weeks. The doctor said the heartbeat was strong… but it’s never going to get to be born.”

Mckenna’s knuckles went white as she gripped the paper, but her face stayed cool and composed. “What does your uncle think?”

“He doesn’t know. And there’s no reason for him to find out now.”

Losing that baby felt like a cold knife twisting straight through her heart. And with it went every last sliver of hope she’d carried for Leonidas, every bit of her unrequited love. All gone.

“Don’t tell anyone. Especially not your uncle,” Clementine said, taking the report back, ready to tear it into tiny pieces. They were divorced now. What was the point of laying her raw, bleeding heart out for everyone to gawk at?

It would only get her pity, or worse—disdain. It would just leave her more humiliated than she already was.

But Mckenna stopped her before she could rip it. “There’s a paper shredder down in the car. We’ll destroy it properly, no loose bits.”

Just then, Clementine’s phone rang, and she handed it over to Mckenna to answer. Once the door clicked shut behind Clementine, Mckenna slowly smoothed the crumpled report flat, and walked over to the nightstand.

The cold glint off her glasses caught on the edge of a document left out on top: the signed divorce agreement. She bent down, ready to tuck the medical report right on top of it.

But after a long minute of thought, she turned, and walked back to tuck it right where she’d found it, under the foot of the bed.

---

Clementine moved into a small new apartment, and spent one long day unpacking and getting settled. As the sunset painted her silhouette in warm amber, she stood gazing out at the city skyline, her chest light for the first time in years, brimming with anticipation for what came next.

Her phone buzzed on the wooden desk, which was cluttered with half-assembled airplane models. She glanced down—it was a message from Mckenna on WhatsApp.

“The dinner party video got leaked!”

Clementine opened Twitter casually. #LeonidasLopezFamilyScandal was already blazing at the top of the trending page, stamped with that bold red “BREAKING” banner.

The caption screamed about a scandalous affair, all the dirty Lopez family laundry aired out for everyone to see, and the view count was skyrocketing by the second.

Calls from her father and Benjamin Lopez poured in one after another, both demanding she get to the Lopez estate immediately.

She hung up on the last one, brushed her thumb over the screen, and a cold, sharp smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Mckenna had warned her to ignore all calls from the Lopezes, but she wasn’t going to listen.

The flames were already licking the roof. To not throw a whole bucket of gasoline on them would be a total waste of all this attention…