“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll ask Vivienne. You can wear it as long as you need—at least until your pup arrives.”
A knife-sharp ache shot straight through my heart.
I couldn’t even recall his exact words from our mating ceremony anymore… but what did it matter? He clearly didn’t remember his own vows either.
I stepped backward, but the wooden floor betrayed me with a faint creak. In an instant, Lucian opened the door. The moment he saw me standing there, his expression faltered—surprise, followed by something that looked dangerously like guilt. He stepped out quickly, pulling the door shut behind him, guiding me toward a private corner of the hallway.
“Vivienne,” he said quietly, “you must’ve heard that, didn’t you?”
I kept my lips sealed.
He hesitated, then exhaled. “Sabrina’s been losing sleep. Could you lend her the medal for a while? Just until she feels better?”
I nodded slowly—right as a sharp pain coiled through my side. I gritted my teeth and pushed through it.
“I’ll give it to her,” I said, keeping my voice as steady as I could. “But I want one thing in return.”
Lucian brightened instantly, as if I had just thrown him a lifeline. He stepped closer, about to wrap me in a relieved embrace, but I shifted back before he could touch me.
Sabrina’s scent clung to him—thick and nauseating.
“I’m glad you’re being reasonable,” he said with a soft smile. “Once her pup is born, I’ll return it to you. Don’t worry—your place beside me isn’t changing.”
So he did remember the symbolism of the medal.
“I don’t care if she never returns it,” I replied quietly. “I just need you to sign something.”
Then I turned and headed upstairs.
A minute later, I descended with a set of papers—already opened to the signature page.
Divorce papers.
“There’s no need to get emotional,” Lucian murmured, as if coaxing a child. “Sabrina won’t keep it forever. I already told you—I’ll give it back once she’s delivered.”
He signed without even scanning the document.
When my fingers closed around the papers, a hollow calm flooded through me. I hadn’t expected it to be this effortless.
Lucian offered me a gentle smile, completely misunderstanding everything. “I know I haven’t treated you well lately. Go on—buy whatever makes you feel better. Put it on my tab.”
Ah.
So that was it.
He thought this was part of another petty argument. That I was angling for money, or gifts, or some emotional leverage.