Laura's POV
I scrawled my name across the line, my tears falling onto the paper, smudging the ink. With each stroke of the pen, I felt like I was signing away a piece of my soul, my love, my life.
When I was done, I let the pen slip from my fingers, watching it roll away as if it symbolized the last bit of hope I had left.
Mr Gray stood and stepped forward, taking the papers from the table. "You have officially signed the divorce papers," he said.
I nodded.
"Congratulations on your divorce, dear sister," Victoria said with a mocking tone.
I couldn't bear to look at them. The pain was too raw, too overwhelming. "Excuse me," I said, quickly and rushed out.
When I returned from the lawyer's office, the mansion felt emptier than ever. My chest ached as I looked around the rooms, each corner heavy with memories of a life I had tried so hard to hold together.
I couldn't bring myself to sit idly and cry. Instead, I wandered into the living room, then the kitchen, then the dining room, straightening cushions, aligning silverware, wiping down counters that were already spotless. My hands trembled, but I needed something to do, something that would make me feel like I still belonged here.
I pulled fresh lilies from the vase and replaced them with roses, Lorenzo's favorite. I ironed the dining linens and set the table for two, carefully folding the napkins the way he liked. I even reheated his favorite stew, the one I had made on the night he first told me he loved me.
Maybe, just maybe, if he walked in and saw the house warm and welcoming, if he smelled the food and remembered what we once were, he'd change his mind. He'd look at me and realize he couldn't throw away our marriage so easily.
I clutched the ladle against my chest, whispering, "Please, Lorenzo… remember us. Remember me."
The sound of footsteps snapped me back. My heart leapt as Lorenzo walked in through the doorway, his suit jacket slung carelessly over his arm.
"Welcome home," I said quickly, forcing a shaky smile. "I made dinner. I thought we could—"
But he didn't even glance at the table. His eyes swept past me, past the steaming bowls, past the carefully arranged flowers, until they landed on the staircase.
And then she appeared.
Victoria. Wearing one of my silk robes. Her hair damp from a shower.
She walked down the stairs with the confidence of a woman who knew she was untouchable. She came straight to Lorenzo, kissed him on the cheek, and whispered something that made him chuckle.
I stood frozen, my smile collapsing. "Dinner… it's ready," I tried again, my voice cracking.
Victoria smirked, her eyes glinting with cruel amusement. "Oh, how sweet. She still thinks she's your wife." She brushed past me, plucked a rose from the vase, and twirled it between her fingers. "You should've gone with lilies, Laura. He prefers those when he's with me."
Lorenzo didn't correct her. He didn't defend me. He just placed his hand on her lower back and said, "Come on, Victoria. Let's eat out tonight. I'm not in the mood for home cooking."
The words knocked the breath from my chest. My stew still simmered on the gas, steam fogging my tear-blurred vision. I had poured every ounce of hope into this moment, and he brushed it aside like it meant nothing.
Victoria tossed the rose at my feet before slipping her arm through his. "Don't wait up, darling," she whispered mockingly.
I stared at the closed door long after they left, my hands gripping the back of a chair to keep from collapsing. The house around me gleamed, perfect, just as I had arranged it. But nothing could disguise the truth.
I was invisible here.
—
Later that night, Lorenzo found me in one of the guest rooms, eyes swollen from crying. One of my bags was packed. His tone was calm, too calm.
"You can stay here a little longer, Laura. When you feel better, take your things and leave," he said. "I just want you to know that I still care for you despite everything."
My head snapped up, eyes wide with disbelief. "Care?" I breathed, barely able to process what he was saying. "When you care for someone, you betray the person? You hurt the person?"
Tears continued to stream from my eyes. He stretched a handkerchief to me. "You need this."
My life, my love, my world had crumbled, and there was nothing left, all thanks to him. And all he could offer was a handkerchief. "Go to hell with your handkerchief, Lorenzo."
I stood, my grip tightened on my phone. My head was aching and I felt a little bit dizzy but I didn't want him to know or feel pity for me. I began walking towards the wardrobe but ended up tripping and falling into his hands.
"Be careful, Laura," he said, gently holding me.
"Don't touch me," I cried out, getting away from him.
The finality of it all had sunk in. I was no longer his wife. I was no longer anything to him.
I rushed to the wardrobe and packed my things into a bag. It felt like if I didn't leave the mansion any soon, I'd suffocate.
When I turned around, he was gone.
I finished packing, and grabbed my bags and began heading to the exit door of the mansion.
Lorenzo was there. He blinked off something like tears from his eyes. Perhaps, tears of joy.
He didn't glance at me. "I'm sorry."
Sorry for infidelity? Or for surprising me on our anniversary with a divorce?
I nodded. "Of course," I swallowed hard, trying to hold back my tears but I couldn't. "And to you, sorry can change everything, right? Enjoy your life with Victoria, but just know this, I'll never forgive you for what you've done to me." I dragged my luggage and hurriedly left the Mansion. There was nothing left for me there.
Funny enough, I had no money or properties. Lorenzo had made everything available for me and said to me, "you don't have to worry about anything, Laura. You don't have to work. Everything you want will be placed at your feet."
"No, Lorenzo. Please let me search for a new job or open a coffee shop. I don't want to be a burden to you. I don't want to depend on you."
"You sacrificed your job for me. Now, I'm successful again. As long as I live, you won't have to work or struggle."
Tears rolled down my cheeks. Unfortunately, I was back to square one.
I couldn't go to Paula. She had plans with Jeff. I felt so devastated. If I wasn't pregnant, I'd have wished death upon myself.
Skrrr!
The last thing I remembered before losing consciousness was getting hit by a car. I felt a terrible ache in my abdomen before falling unconscious.
—
I could smell antiseptic and syringe. Where was I? My hand slowly found my forehead and pressed on it as I opened my eyes. It felt like I just recovered from a bad headache.
An IV was attached to the back of my hand.
"You are awake?" a woman in a doctor's coat asked with a smile. "How are you feeling, ma'am?"
"I…" my throat dried. I remembered I had a terrible ache in my abdomen before falling unconscious. What if something happened to my baby? "M-my unborn baby. How is my unborn baby?" I was worried as well as scared.
The lady smiled, touching my arm and spreading a sense of comfort. "Your unborn child is fine. But you need to rest. You shouldn't be anxious or worried about anything. It can affect you and the unborn baby's health."
Relief washed over me. The heavy stone that had taken residence in my heart disappeared at her words. My baby was alright.
However, my relief dissipated when I realized I was in a place I had no idea of. I had no idea of who hit me or brought me here.
"Who brought me here, Doctor?" I asked, trying not to panic. I had to heed to the Doctor's warning. I couldn't risk my child's life.
"I'm the one," said a deep husky voice.
I lifted my head and found myself staring at a man who towered at least six feet, his presence radiating an aura I couldn't quite define, powerful, yet elusive. His eyes, a piercing shade of green, were so pure they seemed almost unreal, sharp enough to pin me in place. Everything about him was controlled, refined, and unnervingly precise. The white T-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders and muscular arms, while the undone buttons revealed just enough of his chest and the hard ridges of his abs.
A momentary confusion passed over my face.
"I hit you with my car while trying to catch a flight which I eventually missed," he glanced at his wrist watch. "I couldn't leave you in your unconscious state on the road."
"I'm so sorry," my quizzical look had changed to an apologetic one. "I wasn't watching where I was going."
He started approaching me. I peered at him. "I should be the one apologizing. I should have honked, earlier. I got a call from Roberts. I was trying to grab my phone when my car hit you."
He took a cup of tea from the tray next to me. He stretched it to me. "Drink this. It'll help you."
I sat up. "No, thanks, I'm fine. I should take my leave now."
"Mr Roberts will be mad at me if I let you leave. After all, you don't have a home," he paused and continued. "You just got divorced."
How did he know about my divorce and my homeless situation?