Too Late Now, Ex Lover

“Are you sure you want to erase your ID?” my lawyer friend asked, her brows furrowed with concern.

“Yes,” I replied without hesitation.

“But once you do that, everything you've achieved will vanish like dust. It’ll be as if you never existed,” she warned in low voice.

“That’s the point,” I said calmly.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Since my parents divorced fifteen years ago, I had lived like a ghost in my own life—unnoticed and unwanted.

I thought marrying Jordan Young was my best decision, but the only result disappointed me.

A week ago, I opened the door to his study and found him kissing Adeline Stevens, my half-sister’s photos.

He caressed it gently, whispering, “I love you.”

The next day, I found them tangled together in Adeline’s office.

Through the cracked door, Adeline looked right at me. Her lips curled into a smirk.

“You were honest when you said you only love me, right?”

Jordan didn’t even glance up, kissing her neck. “Of course. Only you are in my heart. Casey’s nothing compared to you.”

Nothing.

That word echoed like a scream in my head.

As if that betrayal wasn’t enough, he later told me to step down as Vice President in Marsell Jewelry, the company we built three years ago, just so he could entangle with her as much as he liked.

“You should focus on getting pregnant, Casey. Be a good housewife. Adeline can take care of things at Marsell.”

But I didn’t scream or shatter the room with rage.

I packed my silence and walked into my lawyer’s office.

“I have nothing left to regret,” I said flatly. “So, can it be done or not?”

She sighed, then nodded. “It can. But first, you’ll need Jordan’s signature on the divorce papers.”

“That’s not a problem,” I replied coolly, pulling a folder from my bag. “He already signed it.”

Her eyes widened. “What? How?”

“I slipped it into a stack of documents he signed earlier. He was in such a hurry to leave—probably couldn’t wait to meet his mistress for lunch.” My voice didn’t crack.

She flipped through the papers, nodding slowly. “Okay. I’ll process everything. In five days, it’ll be finalized.”

Perfect timing.

Not only would it be our first wedding anniversary, but also Adeline’s 23th birthday.

No wonder Jordan was so eager to get married on that day. He probably had it all planned.

But there would be no one-year anniversary for us. Just a forgotten name in a paper trail.

“If you want her, take her. But let’s see, who will beg in the end.”

***

When I got home, Jordan was already waiting.

He rushed to me the moment I walked in, wrapping his arms around me. “Where have you been? You missed your OB-GYN appointment. And you didn’t return my calls.”

That hug used to be my safe place. Now, it made bile rise in my throat.

His scent wasn’t the usual crisp woody musk. It was tainted with soft floral notes, Adeline’s perfume.

I pushed him away. “I went to a bar. I need to clear my head.”

He cupped my cheek gently, as if he still had the right. “I know giving up your position was hard, but our priority now is having a baby before our anniversary, right?”

He paused, eyes searching mine. “You shouldn’t drink too much though. The doctor warned us. Promise me, this is the last time, okay?”

He held out his pinky, but I didn’t take it.

He then pulled me into another hug. “Okay, fine. Drink today. But tomorrow, let’s go to the appointment together, hmm?”

I stayed silent in his embrace, stiff and distant.

Why was he so eager to have a child with me when he’d already planned to divorce me for her?

But as I watched Jordan wrap me in concern, memories stabbed through me like shards of glass.

Three years ago, he was just a fresh graduate applying for a position in my company.

I had just graduated too, with one burning goal: to take over my mother’s company, Marsell Jewelry, a business on the brink of bankruptcy.

My father, who was only obsessed with his mistress, Betti and her perfect daughter Adeline, handed it to me without hesitation.

He probably thought I’d fail and never bother him again about my rightful place in the Stevens Group.

But then came Jordan Young.

He was bright, driven, and surprisingly kind. Together, we worked day and night, turning Marsell around.

One year in, we revived the company. One year later, we married.

I, the forgotten daughter of two divorced billionaires, believed I had finally found someone who truly cared.

But fairy tales lie.

A month ago, right after Adeline joined Marsell Jewelry as the new HR after graduation, Jordan’s attention slipped.

At first, it was subtle—quick glances at his phone during meetings, whispered calls, and skipped lunches.

Then came the absurd excuses.

A cockroach in her room. A broken lightbulb. A lost earring.

Each time, he rushed to her like she was royalty in peril.

The worst came one evening in the countryside. After a dinner meeting with a client, we were supposed to drive back together.

But Adeline had a fever, and Jordan decided to leave me behind in a rural restaurant with no signal and no ride.

I waited in the pouring rain, soaked, heels sinking into mud. I ended up walking a mile in the dark to reach a bus station.

I was bedridden for a week, burning with fever, but Jordan didn’t apologize. He simply said, “I’ll handle your workload.”

That was the moment I knew, his heart had always belonged to Adeline.

Still, I forced a smile that night. “Sure. It’s been a while since we went on a date.”

“Right!” he beamed. “No more stress. After your OB-GYN appointment tomorrow, we’ll go out and relax.”

But sweet talk would only be a sweet talk.

The next day, he left me alone again at an amusement park before we were about to ride a roller coaster.

“Adeline’s car got a flat,” he said, unbuckling his belt. “I need to help her. Don’t worry, I’ll come back right after.”

He pushed through the crowd and vanished.

Jordan knew I was terrified of heights. I told him countless times I would only ride if he sat beside me.

But that day, he abandoned me again.

I passed out halfway through. When I woke up, I was lying in the clinic, alone.

Even after night fell, he never came.

I stared at my phone for a long time before dialing the one number I knew would answer.

“Hi, Mom,” I said. “Is your offer from a year ago still valid?”

“Yes. It always is, dear.”

I sighed and said clearly, “Then I’m moving to Monaco. I’ve divorced my husband and am ready to marry whoever you choose.”