“I didn’t cook.”
He looked up, blinking like he didn’t understand. “What?”
“I said,” I repeated, calm and clear, “I didn’t cook. Just eat somewhere else.”
His brow furrowed. “Why not? What’s going on?”
I turned then. Met his eyes head-on.
“I’m leaving,” I said.
He stood up slowly, confusion etched into his face.
“Leaving? Where are you going?”
I smiled. But there was no sweetness left in it. Only frost.
“None of your business.”
I just walked away, and grabbed the keys to the Maybach, and drove straight to the divorce lawyer’s office. The receptionist gave me a look that said you again?, but I ignored her and walked in.
Attorney Rosario was sitting behind his polished mahogany desk. His tie was crisp, his smile tight.
“Mrs. Green,” he greeted carefully. “I received your message. But I’m afraid I can’t—”
“Cut the formality,” I said, placing the unsigned divorce documents on the desk. “I want this done. Today.”
He cleared his throat. “Thalia… this isn’t just anyone. We talked about this already. Troy Green’s family—his father owns a third of the east-side properties. His name opens doors. He has connections that could bury me.”
I leaned forward, locking eyes with him. “And I’ve lived two years of silence. Two years of cold rejection. Two years of pretending my marriage wasn’t a farce. There’s no love here. There never was. Just a man obsessed with someone who isn’t me.”
He shifted, uncomfortable. “Still—”
“I’m not asking for your sympathy. I’m begging you to do your job. Get me out of this cage.”
He stared at me, then finally sighed. “Fine. I’ll file it. It’ll take a few days. But once it’s in, it’s done… and if he says no, I don’t have any say on it.”
My throat tightened. I nodded. “Thank you.”
I walked out with a weight off my shoulders and a new one building in my chest.
Next, I headed to the embassy. Filled out the necessary forms. Submitted the paperwork. I was done being a citizen of Troy’s world. Soon, I’d be gone. And this nightmare would be nothing but a memory I wouldn’t visit again.
By the time I stepped back outside, the sun was warm on my face. My chest still hurt—but for the first time, the pain wasn’t sharp. Just dull… survivable.
That’s when I remembered Troy’s credit card. I never used it—not once. Never asked for gifts, jewelry, nothing. I’d been the perfect wife on paper and an invisible one in practice.
So I opened my phone and started swiping.