Hannah’s POV
The elevator ride to the top floor of Martinez Tower feels like it takes forever.
Each floor that ticks by is another second I have to wait, another second I have to hold onto my rage, another second I have to keep myself from falling apart.
I grip the folder in my hands so tightly that my knuckles go white.
Inside are the divorce papers.
The papers that will finally set me free.
The papers that will end five years of invisibility.
The papers that will tell Elijah Martinez exactly what I think of him and his transaction and his precious Isabella.
The elevator doors slide open.
The receptionist looks up, startled.
“Mrs.
Martinez.
Mr.
Martinez isn’t expecting—”
“He’ll see me.”
I don’t wait for her to respond.
I walk past her desk, past the glass walls, past the assistants who stare at me with wide eyes.
I’ve never been like this before.
I’ve never demanded anything.
I’ve never raised my voice.
I’ve never been anything but the quiet, compliant wife who didn’t cause any trouble.
Today, that changes.
The door to Elijah’s office is closed.
I don’t knock.
I push it open and walk inside.
He’s at his desk, surrounded by papers and files and the trappings of his empire.
He looks up when I enter, his expression cold and unreadable.
The same expression he’s worn for five years.
The expression that says I’m a stranger.
The expression that says I’m nothing.
“Hannah.” His voice is flat.
“This is unexpected.”
“Is it?” I walk to his desk and slam the folder down on the polished wood.
The sound echoes through the room.
“I’m done.”
He looks at the folder, then back at me.
His face doesn’t change.
“Done with what?”
“You.” The word comes out sharper than I intended.
“I’m done with you.
I’m done with this marriage.
I’m done with being invisible.”
He leans back in his chair, studying me with those cold, dark eyes.
“Done?
You want a divorce?”
“Yes.” I push the papers toward him.
“Sign them.”
Elijah doesn’t touch the folder.
He just stares at me like I’m a puzzle he can’t solve.
“You have everything.
A home.
Money.
Security.
What more could you possibly want?”
The question hits me like a slap.
Everything.
He thinks I have everything.
He thinks that a mansion and a credit card and a cold, empty bed are enough.
He thinks that being invisible is the same as being taken care of.
I laugh.
It’s a hollow sound, empty of any real humor.
“Everything?
You think I have everything?”
“You have what you asked for.”
“What I asked for?” I shake my head.
“I didn’t ask for any of this.
I didn’t ask to be married to a man who doesn’t see me.
I didn’t ask to spend five years being a blood donation for a woman who stole my husband.
I didn’t ask to sit alone in a mansion while you proposed to someone else on a bridge at sunset.”
Elijah’s face flickers.
Just for a moment.
But it’s enough.
Enough to tell me that he knows what I’m talking about.
Enough to tell me that he knows I’ve seen the video.
“How do you know about that?”
“It doesn’t matter how I know.
What matters is that I know.
I know that our marriage was never real to you.
I know that I was just a transaction.
I know that you loved her all along.”
He stands up, his chair scraping against the floor.
“Hannah, you don’t understand—”
“Don’t I?” I step closer to him, my fists clenched at my sides.
“I understand perfectly.
I understand that you married me because Isabella needed my blood.
I understand that you never saw me as a person.
I understand that I was just a means to an end.”
“That’s not true.”
“Really?” I laugh again, harsher this time.
“Then tell me.
Tell me you saw me.
Tell me you noticed me. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
Tell me you ever once thought about how I felt.”
He opens his mouth, then closes it.
The silence stretches between us.
Heavy.
Accusing.
Final.
“I wanted to be seen, Elijah.” My voice cracks, and I hate it.
I hate that he can still affect me.
I hate that I’m showing weakness.
“I wanted you to see me.
Not as a donation.
Not as a transaction.
Not as the unwanted wife.
I wanted you to see me as a person.
As someone who mattered.
As someone who was worthy of love.”
His face is still unreadable.
Cold.
Distant.
The same mask he’s worn for five years.
“You had everything you needed.”
“Did I?” I pick up the folder and pull out the divorce papers.
“I had nothing.
Nothing but a cold house and a credit card and a husband who didn’t love me.
That’s not everything.
That’s nothing.”
I grab a pen from his desk and sign my name at the bottom of the page.
My hand is shaking, but I force it to be steady.
I force myself to be strong.
“There.
It’s done.”
Elijah stares at the paper.
For a long moment, he doesn’t move.
Then he takes the pen from my hand and signs his name without hesitation.
No questions.
No arguments.
No pleading.
Just the cold, efficient signature of a man who never wanted me in the first place.
“Thank you, Hannah.” His voice is flat.
“This is for the best.”
I feel something inside me break.
Some final thread of hope that I didn’t even know I was still clinging to.
Some desperate, foolish part of me that still believed he might fight for me.
He doesn’t.
He never did.
He never would.
“This is for the best?” I repeat the words like they’re foreign.
“You’re really going to let me walk away?
Just like that?
After everything?”
“What do you want me to say?” His eyes are cold, unreadable.
“You’re the one who wants the divorce.”
“I wanted you to fight for me.” The words come out ragged.
Raw.
“I wanted you to see me.
To notice me.
To want me.
But you never did.
You never could.”
“Hannah—”
“Don’t.” I hold up my hand.
“Don’t say my name like that.
Don’t pretend you care.
You made your choice five years ago.
You chose her.
You always chose her.”
Isabella appears in the doorway, her presence like a shadow.
She must have heard me through the intercom.
Victoria must have alerted her.
Of course she did.
Victoria was always on Isabella’s side.
“Elijah?” Isabella’s voice is sweet, innocent.
The voice of a woman who destroyed my life and enjoyed every moment of it.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I say.
“I was just leaving.”
“Hannah, wait—”
But I’m already walking away.
I don’t look back.
I don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing my tears.
I don’t let Isabella see me break.
I walk through the glass doors, past the stunned receptionist, into the elevator that will take me away from this place forever.
My legs are shaking, my hands are shaking, my whole body is shaking.
But I don’t stop.
I don’t fall.
I don’t give them anything.
The elevator doors close.
I lean against the wall and close my eyes.
The tears come.
Hot and silent and unstoppable.
I thought I was done crying.
I thought I had run out of tears. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
But there’s always more.
There’s always more pain.
There’s always more grief.
I think about my grandmother.
I think about the letter she left me.
I think about the strength she believed in, the strength she was so sure I had.
I don’t feel strong.
I feel broken.
I feel shattered.
I feel like I’ve been hollowed out and left with nothing.
But I’m free.
For the first time in five years, I’m free.
I don’t need Elijah.
I don’t need his money.
I don’t need his cold indifference or his transactional love.
I have my grandmother’s legacy.
I have the Lavender Group.
I have resources and power and a future that’s mine alone.
And I have the truth.
The truth that I was never poor.
The truth that I was never trapped.
The truth that I was only ever imprisoned by my own fear.
The elevator doors open on the ground floor.
I walk through the lobby, past the security guards, out into the bright sunlight.
The city buzzes around me.
Cars honk.
People rush by.
Life goes on.
I don’t know where I’m going.
I don’t have a plan.
I don’t have anything except the clothes on my back and the file in my hands.
But I have freedom.
And that’s enough.
That has to be enough.
I walk to the train station.
I buy a ticket.
I don’t know where I’m going.
Somewhere away from here.
Somewhere I can breathe.
Somewhere I can figure out who I am without Elijah Martinez.
The train pulls into the station.
I board it and find a seat by the window.
The doors close.
The train starts moving.
I watch the city disappear through the window.
The towers.
The bridges.
The life I left behind.
I think about Elijah’s face when I told him I wanted a divorce.
Cold and unreadable.
The face of a man who never loved me.
The face of a man who never saw me.
I think about Isabella’s face in the doorway.
Sweet and innocent and triumphant.
The face of a woman who got everything she wanted.
The face of a woman who destroyed me without a second thought.
I think about Victoria’s voice on the intercom.
Sharp and demanding.
The voice of a woman who always hated me.
The voice of a woman who always wanted me gone.
I’m gone now.
I’m free.
But I don’t feel free.
I feel empty.
I feel hollow.
I feel like I’ve been stripped of everything that made me who I was.
But I’m still here.
I’m still breathing.
I’m still fighting.
I think about my grandmother one last time.
Her voice echoes in my mind, warm and certain.
“Strength isn’t never falling.
It’s getting back up.”
I fell.
I fell harder than I ever thought possible.
I fell so far that I didn’t think I’d ever get back up.
But I’m getting up.
Slowly.
Painfully.
But I’m getting up.
The train races through the countryside.
The city fades behind me.
I don’t look back.
I’m Hannah Winters, heir to the Lavender Group.
I’m a woman with a future.
I’m a woman with purpose.
I’m a woman who will never let anyone make her invisible again.
The train moves forward.
So do I.