"Because I don't need it."
The words hit like a death sentence.
Her lips trembled, and she almost broke in tears right there. But, she managed to hold back, not wanting to show weakness.
Eventually, she looked away toward the side door of the kitchen and exhaled softly, trying to steady herself.
Her heart felt as though it had vanished, leaving nothing but a hollow ache. Even in that emptiness, a strange clarity settled over her.
She had loved him quietly, patiently, and hopefully.
But tonight, she finally understood.
He didn't want her love.
He didn't want anything from her.
"Thank you," she finally said softly. "For your kindness."
Lennox's brows drew together faintly, confusion breaking through his calm exterior for the first time.
"I mean it," she continued, her voice trembling. "Thank you for your charity, Lennox. I won't waste any more of it."
She drew a deep breath, straightened, and met his eyes.
"Let's divorce."
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The fridge hummed in the background, the only sound in a room suddenly too quiet.
Lennox's face darkened the instant the words left her mouth. His jaw flexed once, sharply, as though her words struck something raw inside his chest.
The silence that followed wasn't loud, but it pressed heavily between them.
Esme's lungs stuttered. Each breath came tighter than the last. It was too heavy for her to keep standing there, and her knees wobbled, forcing her to shift her weight against the counter.
"What did you just say?" he asked.
His tone was low, but strained at the edges, like he was barely containing something.
Esme lifted her chin despite the tremor she felt rising at the back of her throat. If she didn't say it now, she knew she never would.
It felt tight, but she forced the words out again, steady this time.
"I said I want a divorce."
The words seemed to echo off the tiles before either of them breathed again.
Something flickered in his eyes that she didn't quite understand. A quick, wounded flash. Gone so fast she doubted she saw it. Somehow, he looked like he was hurt.
She didn't understand that. She had just gotten her heart broken, why was he the one looking hurt?
When he spoke again, it was full of disbelief, then anger. "You're not thinking straight."
He said it like a calm reprimand, but the tension beneath it was unmistakable.
That made Esme even more emotional.
Her fingers curled at her sides. "Don't talk to me like I'm a child."
Lennox fell silent again. He inhaled once, sharply, as if forcing the surge of emotion back down.
"I'm not," he said, his voice gradually becoming calm once more. "You don't mean that."
He said it too quickly, like someone desperate to make the words true.
Esme let out a small, bitter laugh. "Don't I?"
"You're overreacting," he responded. He took a step toward her, his jaw clenched but he still had that same composure that annoyed her to no end. "Those pictures—"
"Pictures that you didn't deny," she didn't let him speak. Her voice cracked around the edges despite her effort to keep it steady. "And everything Cassandra said was true, wasn't it? You married me because you pitied me."
His expression twitched at that, his eyes flinching for the briefest second before he smoothed it away.
"Esme."
Her name left his lips, half pleading, half warning.
"Then tell me I'm wrong!"
Her voice shook for the first time, betraying the storm behind her composure.
Meanwhile, Lennox exhaled slowly, as if holding back something dangerous. "I don't have to justify myself every time someone tries to get between us."
"That's not an answer."
When he didn't respond, Esme's chest twisted painfully. "You can't even say you love me," she said quietly. "Do you know what that feels like?"
He didn't speak.
His gaze dropped to the floor. He folded his hands behind his back, fists tightening once where she could not see.
Esme's chest hurt.
That silence. It was that silence that felt like the cruelest answer of all.
After a long, heavy beat, she nodded. "That's what I thought."
The nod was small, barely there, but it felt like something inside her folded inward.
She turned away, grabbing her coat from the rack. The fabric felt heavier than usual, dragging against her arm.
"Esme." His voice was low, warning.
There was a thin fracture in his voice she'd never heard before.
She didn't stop.
Moving was the only thing keeping her from breaking.
He took a step after her, tension sharpening every line of his body.
"I'm not done talking," he said.
"I am." She slipped her shoes on and opened the door. "I can't breathe in here."
Her chest felt like it was caving in, the walls pressing too close.
He reached for her arm, but she stepped out of his reach, shaking her head. "Don't."
Then she left.
Lennox paused. His hand trembled slightly before he stopped himself.
She didn't look back. If she had, she would've seen him frozen in the doorway, as if something inside him had quietly cracked.
…
The night air bit at Esme's skin as she stepped out of the estate gates. She didn't take her car, nor have any idea where she was going.
Her flats made little sound on the pavement. As she left the gates, she heard the front door open behind her.
He must have followed after her.
She didn't look back, but she knew he was there. She could sense the slow hum of his car engine a short distance behind her.
Every few blocks, the car rolled forward again, never overtaking. He was watching her.
Her hands curled into fists at her sides, her nails pressing into her palms. Why won't he just leave her be?
She shook her head. It didn't matter anymore.
Eventually, when her legs began to ache, she waved down a cab and climbed in. She gave the driver the address of a hotel she frequented most, then glanced out the rear window.
Lennox's car idled at the intersection. He didn't follow.
Good, she thought. Let him keep his distance.
At the hotel, she checked in. The staff recognized her; they didn't ask for ID.
Inside her room, she perched on the edge of the bed, staring at the city lights as they bled into streaks against the glass. She expected tears, but strangely, she felt numb instead.
Her heart still hurt, but it wasn't raw anymore. It was a slow, quiet ache.
…
Down on the street, Lennox was staring at the window of her floor. He watched until her light went out, just making out the outline of her figure under the billboard glow.
His hands gripped the steering wheel silently, like a man restraining himself from barging into her room.
He controlled himself, however, and didn't go in.
After her room went dark he sat for a few more minutes, then, as if remembering something, pulled out his phone.
He called a number. "Madam's at the Easton Hotel," he said quietly. "Keep two men there. Report back if anything changes."
"Yes, sir."
When the call ended, he sat in silence for a long moment before starting the car and driving off.
Next Morning…
Lennox's assistant was waiting outside his office, looking uneasy.
"She's been making a scene in the lobby," the man declared the moment Lennox walked in. "She says it's urgent and demands to see you."
Lennox's brow lifted slightly. "Who?"
"Miss Leigh."
"Tell her to leave," Lennox said flatly, walking past him.
"She won't. She's shouting that she has a right to explain."
He paused, turned, his voice dangerously calm. "Then tell her this: the only reason she's still standing in this building is because of her grandfather. If not for that, I'd have made sure the entire Leigh family pays for her interference."
The assistant blinked. "Yes, sir."
"One more thing," Lennox added, settling into his chair. "Call the police. File a restraining order against her."
"Yes, sir." The man hurried out.
Lennox leaned back, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He hadn't slept much. His mind was still on Esme. The way she'd looked at him before she left, as though she'd already given up, stuck with him.
The office door opened again.
"Sir," the assistant said, looking pale now. "You need to see this."
He handed Lennox an envelope. Inside were neatly stacked legal papers.
Lennox stared at the words at the top: Petition for Divorce.
"They came in with this morning's mail," the assistant said nervously.
For a long moment, Lennox didn't move, and just stared at it. Then, his phone rang.
"Sir," came the voice of his security detail, "Mrs. Mercer has just checked out of the hotel. She's on her way to the airport."
A long silence followed after that and Lennox lowered his head thoughtfully.
"Keep your distance," he said finally as he looked at the assistant. "Find out which flight she's on."
He lowered the phone, his expression unreadable. "Book the same flight under different names. I want you and two men on board with her, but don't approach."
"Yes, sir."
"Where's she headed?"
The assistant made a call, then looked up. "Minnesota."
Lennox's gaze didn't flicker. "Is Samuel still there with Dr. Halberg?"
"Yes."
"Have him take over once the plane lands. The two from here can return."
The assistant hesitated. "Sir, Samuel and his team are capable, but if you're worried she'll recognize these ones, I can have them change their identities—"
"She'll know," Lennox said simply. "She's perceptive."
The assistant nodded. "Should I book you a ticket as well?"
He looked out the window. "No. Let her calm down."
The assistant looked uncertain. "And… what should I do with the papers?"
Lennox reached out, took them, and slipped them into the bottom drawer of his desk. "Leave them."
"Yes, sir."
When the door closed again, Lennox remained seated, staring at nothing. His hand hovered over the drawer, but he didn't open it again.