From Divorce to Billionaire’s Baby

Chapter Three: The End of Us

The conference room is cold. Not in temperature, but in atmosphere. The sterile white walls, the sleek black table, the scent of leather and polished wood, it all feels too formal, too detached, for what’s about to happen. I sit across from Ryan, a sea of paperwork between us, the silence oppressive. Neither of us speaks. What could we say?

It’s Tuesday morning, and we are here to end what barely began. In just a few moments, I will no longer be Mrs. Sterling. I will be Tess Morgan again. I should feel relieved, happy even, but instead, my stomach is twisted in knots. My mind keeps circling back to last week, to the night at the gala, the night that’s lingered in my thoughts every single day since.

I glance at Ryan. His expression is unreadable, as always. He’s flipping through the documents, his brow furrowed in concentration, acting like everything is business as usual. Like we are just finalizing another deal. But I know he hasn’t forgotten. He can’t have. Not after the way he touched me, the way his eyes darkened when his hands slipped the zipper of my dress up. Not after the heat between us that night, the way our bodies responded as if they had been waiting for that moment all along.

I run my fingers over the smooth surface of the table, feeling the coolness against my skin. I haven’t spoken to anyone about that night, not even Maria. It’s been my secret, something I have turned over and over in my mind, trying to make sense of it. Trying to convince myself it was just a mistake, a moment of weakness, nothing more. But the more I think about it, the less I believe that.

The sound of a pen clicking pulls me back to the present. Ryan’s lawyer, a man I have barely acknowledged, slides the documents toward me. I stare at them, my name printed neatly beside his, and the finality of it all hits me. This is it.

Ryan clears his throat, his voice quiet but firm. “You ready?”

I look up at him, and for the first time in weeks, our eyes meet. There’s no warmth, no flicker of recognition for what we shared. He’s pretending it never happened, just like I knew he would. A small part of me hoped he would say something, even if it was just to brush it off as a mistake. But he’s said nothing, and now we are here, about to make our parting official.

“Yeah,” I say softly, picking up the pen. My hand shakes slightly as I hold it, the weight of the moment pressing down on me.

I sign my name in the space provided, each stroke of the pen feeling heavier than the last. It’s just a name, just a signature, but it feels like I am signing away a part of myself I never fully understood. When I finish, I push the papers back across the table.

Ryan doesn’t look at me. He just picks up his own pen and signs his name with the same calm precision he’s always had. No hesitation, no second thoughts. It’s done.

And just like that, we are no longer married.

I sit back in my chair, exhaling a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The silence stretches between us, thick and uncomfortable. This is the part where we should get up and leave, go our separate ways, but neither of us moves.

“Is that it?” I ask, my voice breaking the stillness.

Ryan finally looks at me, his blue eyes as cold and distant as ever. “That’s it,” he says simply.

I nod, biting the inside of my cheek to keep my emotions in check. This is what I wanted. Freedom. No more pretending, no more forced smiles, or awkward conversations. We were never really husband and wife, not in any way that mattered. So why does this feel like a loss?

Ryan stands, buttoning his jacket, ready to walk out of my life as if we were never anything more than business partners. For a moment, I wonder if he will say something, anything, about that night. But he doesn’t.

As he turns to leave, something inside me snaps. “Ryan,” I call after him, my voice sharper than I intended. He stops but doesn’t turn around.

I hesitate, my heart pounding in my chest. What am I even asking for? Acknowledgment? An explanation? But as I sit there, waiting for him to react, the words die on my tongue. Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe it’s better if we both pretend that night never happened.

“Goodbye,” I whisper instead, the finality of the word hanging in the air.

Ryan stands there for a moment longer, then without a word, he walks out the door, leaving me alone with the empty conference room and the reality of what we have just done.

It’s over. It’s really over.

I look down at the papers in front of me, my signature staring back at me like a silent reminder. I am free now. Free to go back to being Tess. But as I sit there, the thought doesn’t bring the relief I thought it would. Instead, it leaves a hollow ache in my chest, a space where something important used to be.

I push my chair back, standing on shaky legs. The lawyers murmur something, but I don’t hear them. I don’t care. I just want to leave, to get out of here and never look back. As I walk out of the office, I tell myself this is a fresh start, the beginning of a new chapter.

After leaving the sterile conference room behind, I walk out into the brisk Tuesday air, my breath misting in front of me. The divorce is final. I am Tess Morgan again, not Mrs. Sterling, not Ryan’s wife. A part of me expected to feel lighter, to walk away with my heart lifted from the weight of our charade of a marriage. Instead, there’s a strange emptiness gnawing at my insides, like a void I can’t quite fill. But I must focus on what comes next. I must move forward.

My new apartment is a far cry from the opulence of the Sterling mansion. It’s modern and sleek, with wide windows that bathe the rooms in natural light. The space feels like a blank canvas, and as I step inside, I realize this is the first place I have truly had that’s mine in two years. No grand halls or cold marble floors, no distant echoes reminding me of the life I was pretending to live. Just me and the quiet hum of the city outside.

The apartment isn’t extravagant, but it’s perfect for me. It’s a corner unit on the top floor of a building that overlooks the heart of the city. The open-plan living area has high ceilings and warm oak floors that give the space a cozy, inviting feel. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer an uninterrupted view of the skyline, a constant reminder of the freedom that’s finally mine.

The furniture is minimalist but comfortable grey and beige tones that soothe me. I have set up a small office in the corner of the living room with a sleek glass desk and a few carefully curated pieces of art. It’s where I where I will be working, preparing for the next phase of my life.