Chapter 3
The mansion was quiet the next morning.
Too quiet.
Ariana sat at the vanity, staring at the pregnancy test hidden inside her drawer.
Two lines.
Clear. Unmistakable.
She was carrying Damian Wolfe's child.
A slow breath left her lips.
Fate truly had a cruel sense of humor.
The night she learned she meant nothing to her husband was the same night she became the mother of his heir.
Her fingers tightened slightly over the edge of the table.
No.
This child was hers.
Not a bargaining chip. Not a tool.
Hers.
A soft knock interrupted her thoughts.
"Madam," the butler's voice came from outside. "Mr. Wolfe is asking for you in the study."
Ariana's expression stilled.
So soon?
She rose gracefully.
If this was about Sophia's visit last night, she was prepared.
If it was about something else—
Even better.
The study door stood slightly open. Damian stood by the window, his back to her, hands clasped behind him.
He did not turn when she entered.
"You wanted to see me?" Ariana asked calmly.
"Yes."
He remained facing the glass walls overlooking the city.
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then—
"I think we should discuss the terms."
Her heartbeat slowed.
There it was.
The beginning.
She stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind her.
"What terms?" she asked evenly.
Damian finally turned.
His expression was composed. Detached. The face of a man negotiating an acquisition.
"The merger will finalize within six months," he said. "After that, the public aspect of this marriage will no longer be necessary."
Public aspect.
Such clinical wording.
"You're proposing a divorce," Ariana stated.
Not a question.
A declaration.
"Yes."
The word fell between them without hesitation.
He walked toward his desk and picked up a document folder.
"I'll ensure you're compensated fairly. Shares. Property. Financial security. You won't lose anything."
Except dignity.
Except love.
Except the child's father.
Ariana's face remained unreadable.
"You've prepared quickly," she observed.
Damian's gaze sharpened slightly. "Efficiency prevents complications."
Complications.
Was that what he would call their child?
She folded her hands lightly in front of her.
"And what about public perception?" she asked calmly.
"We'll release a mutual statement. Irreconcilable differences. No scandal."
No scandal.
Of course.
His reputation must remain pristine.
"And Sophia?" Ariana asked softly.
His jaw tightened.
"This has nothing to do with her."
Ariana almost admired the audacity.
"Of course," she replied smoothly.
He stepped closer.
"You knew this marriage was strategic."
"Yes," she agreed. "Strategic. Temporary. Beneficial."
The words tasted different now.
"You were aware," he continued, "that emotions were not part of the agreement."
Agreement.
Her gaze lifted fully to meet his.
"And were you aware," she asked quietly, "that respect should have been?"
Something flickered in his eyes.
Brief. Unsettled.
But it vanished quickly.
"This is the cleanest solution," he said firmly.
Clean.
She wondered if he had ever considered that human hearts were rarely clean.
"Six months," Ariana repeated thoughtfully.
"Yes."
"And until then?"
"We maintain appearances."
Of course.
Smile for cameras.
Attend events.
Pretend.
Ariana walked slowly around the desk, her heels clicking softly against the marble.
"You're very confident," she said.
"In what?"
"That I'll agree."
Damian studied her carefully.
"You value your family's company," he said. "This protects it."
She stopped in front of him.
"And if I refuse?"
A pause.
His voice lowered slightly.
"Refusal complicates things."
Ah.
There it was.
The subtle threat beneath the polish.
Ariana felt something inside her shift.
The last fragile thread of hope.
Gone.
"You married me for voting rights," she said evenly. "Now that you've secured what you need, I've become inconvenient."
"That's not—"
"It's fine," she interrupted gently.
He stopped speaking.
Because the truth didn't need defense.
Ariana moved toward the window now, standing where he had been earlier.
The city stretched endlessly below.
"Tell me something, Damian," she said softly. "If I had been someone you loved… would you still treat me like this?"
Silence.
He didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
She nodded slowly.
"Very well."
Damian's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Very well?" he repeated.
"Yes," she said calmly. "I accept."
He blinked once, almost imperceptibly.
"You accept?"
"I do."
No hesitation. No tears. No pleading.
That unsettled him more than resistance would have.
"I'll have my lawyer review the terms," she continued. "But I have conditions."
His posture stiffened.
"Conditions?"
"You want a clean divorce," she said. "So do I."
She turned to face him fully now.
"First, the announcement will come from me."
His brows lowered.
"That's unnecessary."
"It's essential."
She held his gaze.
"You've controlled the narrative long enough. This time, I speak."
He hesitated.
Then nodded once.
"Fine."
"Second," she continued smoothly, "the settlement will not be framed as compensation. It will be presented as a strategic asset redistribution."
He almost smirked.
"You care about pride."
"No," she replied quietly. "I care about power."
That caught his attention.
The woman standing before him now was not the soft bride from two nights ago.
Something had changed.
Subtly.
Dangerously.
"And finally," she added, her tone cooling slightly, "once the divorce is finalized, there will be no interference in my personal life."
His gaze sharpened.
"What does that mean?"
"It means," she said calmly, "that who I see, where I go, and what I build will no longer concern you."
For the first time—
Something raw flickered in his eyes.
Possessiveness.
"You're moving on quickly," he said.
Ariana almost smiled.
"You're divorcing quickly."
Silence.
The tension thickened.
"You seem unaffected," he observed quietly.
She looked at him steadily.
"Appearances can be deceiving."
A beat passed.
Then she stepped back.
"I'll await the revised documents."
She walked toward the door.
"Ariana."
She paused but didn't turn.
"Yes?"
His voice lowered.
"You're not… angry?"
Now she did turn.
And for the first time since entering the study, her mask slipped—just slightly.
"Anger requires expectation," she said softly.
"I no longer have any."
The words landed heavier than shouting ever could.
Then she opened the door and left.
—
Upstairs, alone once more, Ariana leaned against the closed bedroom door.
Her composure cracked.
Just for a moment.
She pressed her hand over her abdomen again.
Six months.
He wanted six months.
He thought he controlled the timeline.
A slow breath filled her lungs.
No.
He had no idea what was coming.
If she told him about the child now—
He would never let her go.
He would bind her to this mansion permanently.
And she refused to be kept out of obligation.
Tears gathered in her eyes—but they did not fall.
"Six months," she whispered to herself.
Enough time.
Enough time to prepare.
To secure her own position.
To leave on her terms.
Damian Wolfe believed he was initiating the end.
He didn't realize—
He had just started a countdown.
And when the clock reached zero—
He wouldn't be the one walking away.
She would.
And she would take something far more valuable than shares.
His heir