Chapter 2 The Final Notice

Keira didn't sleep. She spent the night staring at the ceiling, the ghost of Aiden's touch on Zoey's hair burning in her mind.

By dawn, the decision was made.

She sat at the desk, her fingers flying across the keyboard. Divorce Agreement.

She wanted nothing. No alimony, no assets. Just out.

She hit print. But before the paper was even cool, the front door of the estate was nearly pounded off its hinges.

Keira opened the door, and a hand struck her face with the force of a whip.

"You ungrateful bitch!" Martha Lynn screamed, shoving a crumpled document into Keira's chest. It was a notification from the family lawyer—Keira had inquired about divorce procedures earlier.

"Mom..." Keira tasted blood.

"Don't call me Mom!" Martha's face was twisted in fury. "Who gave you the permission to leave Aiden? Do you know how much the Coleman investment means to us? You are a tool, Keira! A bastard child we graciously fed! Your only job is to stay in that house and keep Aiden happy!"

Something inside Keira finally snapped.

"Happy?" She laughed, a hollow, broken sound. "You call being raped by a scalpel happy? You call being humiliated daily happy? I'm done being your tool. I'm done being his punching bag!"

"You dare talk back?" Martha raised her hand again.

"Hit me," Keira challenged, staring her down with dead eyes. "Kill me. It would be a mercy compared to this life."

Martha froze, shocked by the sudden defiance in her usually submissive daughter. But then, Keira's vision suddenly blurred.

A sharp, stabbing pain drilled through her skull. The world tilted.

"Ah!" Keira gasped, clutching her head as she stumbled back, knocking over a vase.

She fell to her knees, darkness encroaching on her vision. Was the tumor finally taking over? She hadn't told anyone about the diagnosis she received last month. What was the point? No one cared.

"Stop acting!" Martha kicked Keira's leg. "Get up! You think faking an illness will get you sympathy?"

Keira breathed through the agony, waiting for her vision to clear. When she finally looked up, her gaze was so cold it sent a shiver down Martha’s spine.

"Get out," Keira whispered.

"What?"

"I said, get out!" Keira screamed, grabbing a shard of the broken vase.

Martha took a step back, genuinely frightened. "Fine! You want to be stubborn? Go ahead! But when you're starving on the streets, don’t come crawling back!"

Martha stormed out, slamming the door.

Silence returned, heavy and suffocating.

Keira pulled herself up. She grabbed her phone and dialed Aiden. She needed to end this. Now.

"What?" Aiden's voice was impatient, background noise suggesting he was in a meeting.

"I'm leaving, Aiden. The divorce papers are on the desk. Sign them."

There was a pause. Then, a low, mocking chuckle.

"Is this a new game? First the silent treatment, now threats of leaving? You think this will make me care?"

"I'm serious, Aiden."

"Good. Go then," he sneered. "But remember, Keira, once you walk out that door, you are nothing. Don't beg me to take you back when you realize you can't survive without my money."

He hung up.

Keira stared at the phone. No sadness. Only relief.

She packed a single suitcase. As she was zipping it up, her phone buzzed. It was Martha again.

Keira frowned but answered.

"Keira," Martha's voice was completely different—soft, apologetic, almost crying. "I'm sorry. I lost my temper. I'm just so stressed about your dad's company. Please, can we talk? Just a farewell dinner? If you really want a divorce, I won't stop you. But let me say goodbye properly."

It was a trap. Keira knew it. Martha never apologized.

But a foolish, tiny part of her—the part that still craved a mother's love—wavered. Or perhaps, she just wanted to sever the tie completely.

"Fine," Keira said. "One dinner. Then we are strangers."

She grabbed her suitcase and walked out of the Coleman Estate. She didn't look back.

Hours later, the sky turned dark.

Aiden Coleman walked into his home, loosening his tie.

"Keira, bring me some water," he commanded out of habit as he entered the hall.

Silence.

He frowned. Usually, she would be there instantly, offering him slippers and a warm smile, no matter how coldly he treated her.

"Keira?"

He walked into the bedroom. It was pristine. Too pristine.

He opened the closet. Her side was empty. The cheap clothes she wore, the few skincare bottles—gone.

His gaze landed on the nightstand. The divorce papers sat there, signed with a neat, firm hand. Beside them lay her wedding ring.

Aiden felt a strange, unfamiliar tightness in his chest. Anger? No, it had to be annoyance.

"She actually left?" He scoffed, tossing the ring onto the bed. "Dramatic fool. She'll be back in two days when she runs out of money."

But as he sat in the empty room, the silence felt louder than ever before.