Divorcing the CEO, Marrying His Son

On the day I divorced my fifty-year-old CEO husband, I wore a full face of makeup and a stunning scarlet dress. A flicker of annoyance crossed Arthur Sterling’s handsome, refined face. “Dressed like you’re getting married today?” he asked, his voice laced with sarcasm. I fluffed my newly styled curls, a picture of a much younger, dashing face flashing in my mind. A genuine smile touched my lips. “I am.” “And it’s someone you know.” A cold sneer formed on his lips. “Everyone in my circle is famously devoted to their spouse. Did you even think before you came up with that lie?” I just shook my head and smiled. No need to explain. After all, he was already on his way. … In the car, Arthur didn’t head straight for the courthouse. He turned in the opposite direction. Meeting my questioning gaze, his tone was dismissive. “Catherine is coming with us. She’s waited over twenty years for this. I’m not making her wait a second longer.” So that’s how long our sham of a marriage had lasted. As we neared Catherine’s neighborhood, a new text came through. While I was replying, I slipped out of the car and bought a bottle of water from a convenience store. When I returned, the front passenger seat was occupied. “Sophie, I hope you don’t mind,” Catherine said, her voice cloyingly sweet. “I’m just so used to sitting up front with Arthur.” Why would I mind? We were on our way to get a divorce. As I reached for my handbag, Catherine gasped dramatically. “What a beautiful bag!” “Sophie, give the bag to Catherine,” Arthur commanded from the driver’s seat, his eyes fixed on the road. I was only trying to grab the small charm hanging from the strap, but he slammed on the brakes and whipped his head around. “I bought you that bag. Are you expecting me to pay you for it now?” I held up the cute little charm I’d just unclipped. “You didn’t buy me this.” His expression darkened, a strange look in his eyes. I placed the bag in Catherine’s lap. “I have plenty more at home, brand new. Give me your address, and I’ll send them all to you.” Arthur nodded, satisfied. “Sophie, as long as you don’t cause any trouble, I’ll make sure no one in our circle ever finds out about the divorce.” I didn’t answer. The man I was about to marry had no intention of keeping our marriage a secret. My phone began to vibrate insistently. I leaned against the window and answered in a low voice. It was him. He was on the plane. A small smile played on my lips as I whispered, “Okay.” Arthur caught my reflection in the rearview mirror, his eyes narrowing at my smile. A surge of irritation washed over him. He was about to demand who I was talking to when Catherine, in the front seat, let out a deep sigh. Her hand absently stroked the bag in her lap. “What’s wrong?” Arthur asked, his voice softening as he turned to her at a red light. Catherine quickly covered a spot on the bag, her eyes darting away. “It’s… it’s nothing…” Sensing something was wrong, Arthur snatched the bag from her. A long, fresh scratch marred the expensive leather. It was impossible to miss. His anger flared. He threw the bag at me. I was looking out the window, completely unprepared. It hit my arm with a solid thud. My hand jerked, accidentally ending the call. But I wasn’t finished talking. Ignoring Arthur, I immediately tried to redial. The call had just connected when Arthur got out of the car, stormed over to my side, and snatched the phone from my hand. He threw it to the ground. A passing car crushed it instantly. “Arthur, you…” Before I could finish, he had dragged me out of the car. My high heels caught on the pavement, and a sharp pain shot through my ankle as it twisted beneath me. I stumbled, unable to stand. Seeing my swollen ankle, Arthur let go of my arm in disgust. “I asked you to give her a bag, and you scratch it first? Sophie, I never knew you were so manipulative!” He didn’t even ask. He just pronounced me guilty. I looked up at Catherine in the car. She quickly averted her gaze, her hands nervously fidgeting with her dress. Ever since she had reappeared in his life, I had become the most manipulative woman in the world in Arthur’s eyes. Marrying him to save his family’s company from financial ruin? Manipulative, using gratitude as a weapon. Working my fingers to the bone to grow his business? Manipulative, using his connections as a launchpad for myself. Agreeing to the divorce to let him be with her? Manipulative, a calculated retreat to gain the upper hand. In the past, I would have patiently explained, defended myself. But not today. I was done. “You’re right. I didn’t want to give it to her. I wanted to piss her off. Are you satisfied?” Biting back the searing pain in my ankle, I forced myself to stand and limped towards the sidewalk without a backward glance. Arthur, I’m done chasing after you, done explaining myself. He stood by the car, a vein throbbing in his temple. “Fine, Sophie! You admitted it! So don’t blame me for leaving you here. You can walk to the courthouse yourself!” Leaving me behind? Wasn’t that his specialty when it came to Catherine? He’d walked out on our wedding reception because of a text from her, leaving me to face our guests alone. He’d left me shivering in the cold for two hours after a gala because he’d secretly gone to pick her up. He’d abandoned me in a foreign country in the middle of a business trip because she’d called him, not even bothering with an explanation. My heart had long since turned to ice. By the time I reached the courthouse, my ankle was a swollen, angry mess. Every step sent a wave of cold sweat down my back. I was leaning against a wall, trying to catch my breath, when someone scooped me up from behind. “Arthur, put me down!” His face was a stony mask as he ignored my protests and marched inside. As we passed Catherine, a flash of pure hatred crossed her face. Inside, a helpful bystander pointed the way. “Sir, marriage licenses are this way.” Arthur’s face darkened. He dropped me. “We’re here for a divorce.” I landed hard, my injured ankle buckling under the sudden weight. A sharp, blinding pain shot up my leg. After the paperwork was done and the divorce decree was in my hand, I found a seat and waited. He should be arriving soon. “Sophie, aren’t you leaving?” Catherine asked, her arm linked possessively with Arthur’s. “Your ankle looks pretty bad. After Arthur and I get our license, we can give you a ride to the hospital!” I took out my compact and reapplied my lipstick. “No, thank you. I’m waiting for someone. We’re getting married. He’ll take me to the hospital.” “Oh, what a coincidence! Arthur, darling, let’s wait with Sophie, shall we?” Catherine pulled Arthur over to the seats next to me. “After we get our license, we can wait and see. If Sophie’s ‘fiancé’ doesn’t have a car, we can still give her a ride.” Arthur squeezed her hand tenderly and tucked it into his pocket. “You’re always so considerate of others.” But as the sky began to darken, no one came. I reached for my phone, only then remembering it was in pieces on the side of a road. Frustrated, I started to get up. Catherine, clutching her brand-new marriage certificate, walked over with a triumphant smile. “Sophie, let’s just forget about this imaginary person. Be reasonable. Let Arthur and I, as a married couple, take you to the hospital.” I patted my pockets again. I didn’t have a single dollar on me. The only valuable thing I’d had was the handbag I’d just given away. So, I didn’t refuse her offer. Outside, I clung to the railing, carefully making my way down the steps. “Sophie, let me help you.” Catherine hurried to my side. I was about to wave her off. “Ah!” She let out a scream, stumbled, and fell backward. Arthur caught her instantly. She buried her face in his chest, her eyes filled with tears. “Sophie, I was just trying to help. Why did you push me?” Arthur shot me a furious look. He stroked her back comfortingly, then grabbed my arm and dragged me down the remaining steps. “Sophie, you are unbelievable…” Seeing me clutch my ankle in agony, a flicker of pity crossed his face. He was about to tell me to get in the car. But then Catherine whimpered, “Arthur…” He immediately wrapped his arm around her and helped her into the car. And drove away. I limped to the nearest police station and asked an officer to drive me home. My assistant got me a new SIM card and brought it to me at the hospital. The moment I turned on my new phone, it was flooded with missed call notifications. Before I could even unlock it, it rang again. “Sophie! You finally answered! What happened? Are you okay?” He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. I glanced down at my bandaged ankle. “It’s nothing serious. I just sprained my ankle.” “What! How bad is it? Have you been to the hospital?” He sounded frantic, as if he would teleport to my side if he could. “I bought a train ticket the second I landed. I’ll be there in half an hour.” “My flight had to turn back halfway because of the weather.” “I’ve been calling you since we landed. I was so scared when you didn’t answer.” Just after we hung up, Arthur, who never posted on social media, updated his status. It was a silhouette of him and Catherine, holding their marriage certificate. I commented: [Congratulations to the happy couple. Wishing you all the best.] When I looked again, the post was gone. A call from Arthur popped up on my screen.