Chapter 11
By the time morning rolled around, Elena had already made her first move.
She walked into her lawyer’s office wearing a crisp navy suit, heels clicking with purpose. The same woman who had once quietly sat in Andrew’s shadow was gone. In her place was someone new—sharp, determined, and impossible to ignore.
“I want the divorce finalized immediately,” she said, placing the signed documents on the lawyer’s desk. “No more delays. No more negotiations. Just end it.”
Her lawyer blinked in surprise, then nodded. “Understood. I’ll expedite the process.”
Elena stood to leave, but paused at the door. “And I want the prenup enforced. Every clause.”
She didn’t need to say more. That prenup had been Andrew’s idea years ago—he never thought she’d use it against him. But now, it gave her leverage. Property, shares, and financial security he could no longer block.
Walking out of the building, Elena felt lighter. As if something poisonous had finally been cut from her life.
Her phone buzzed. A message from Sebastian.
Lunch? Or too busy conquering the world?
She smiled despite herself and replied:
Give me 30 minutes. Wear something less smug.
They met at a quiet rooftop café overlooking the city skyline. The sun was bright but not harsh, and a light breeze toyed with her hair.
Sebastian stood as she arrived, pulling out her chair like a gentleman. “You really do take over a room.”
“Just keeping up with your dramatic entrances,” she teased.
He laughed. “So, is it done?”
She nodded. “The divorce will be official soon. And he’ll lose more than just a wife.”
Sebastian leaned in, his tone lower. “And how do you feel about that?”
Elena hesitated. “Honestly? I thought I’d feel broken. But I don’t. I feel… free.”
He gave her a thoughtful look. “That freedom looks good on you.”
She glanced away, trying to ignore the warm flush his words stirred. “Don’t get too comfortable. I’m still figuring things out.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
They ate slowly, exchanging stories that weren’t heavy with pain. For once, they laughed. It felt almost normal—two people getting to know each other not through shared scars, but through curiosity.
After lunch, Sebastian walked her to her car.
Before she could get in, he touched her wrist gently. “Elena,” he said, his voice softer now. “I know you’re still in the middle of it all. But when the dust settles… I want to be someone who’s still standing next to you.”
She didn’t answer right away.
She didn’t have to.
The look in her eyes said she wasn’t ready—but maybe, just maybe, she was starting to believe she could be.
That night, Elena went home and sat by the window, watching the city come alive with lights. Somewhere in that chaos, Andrew and Chloe were probably still spinning in the fallout of their own mess.
But for once, she didn’t care.
Because her story wasn’t about them anymore.
It was about her.
And she was just getting started.