I stared down at the crisp, white pages of the divorce agreement, my pen hovering over the dotted line. The silence in Malcom's office was suffocating, the air thick with his arrogance. He sat across from me, leaning back in his leather chair with that infuriating smirk plastered across his face.
"Why the tears, Eve?" His voice held that infuriating mix of mockery and amusement. "Weren't you the one who kept threatening to leave? And now, here you are, crying over the very thing you wanted."
I let my bottom lip tremble, my fingers tightening around the pen as if the weight of my shattered world was pressing down on me. My shoulders shook, my breaths ragged—as if I'd been gutted by my own decision.
Malcom ate it up.
Good.
I sniffled, lowering my head. Inside, rage simmered beneath the surface, but I stayed the perfect picture of a broken woman.
