Chasing His Ex-Wife Back

“I have something for you,” Damion says, his voice cutting through the chatter and laughter surrounding us.

I turn to face him, my heart skipping a beat. The celebration is grand—golden lights casting their warm glow, guests mingling, a symphony playing softly in the background. But none of that matters now. All I see is Damion, holding an envelope with a look so unreadable it sends a chill down my spine.

“Happy anniversary,” I whisper, forcing a smile, hoping for even a flicker of warmth in his eyes.

“Open it,” he says, the words sharp, almost impatient.

I swallow, my fingers trembling as I take the envelope. It’s lighter than I expect, and an inexplicable dread creeps up my spine. Has he bought another mansion in my name? Damion can be full of surprises. But as I slide out the paper, the world seems to slow. My eyes scan the page, and I feel the floor vanish beneath my feet.

Divorce papers.

The words blur, the room closing in as if it’s suffocating me. I look up at him, searching for some sign that this is a cruel joke. “Damion, what is this? Divorce papers? On our anniversary?”

His face remains cold, detached, as if this is just another business transaction. “Yes, Isabelle. This farce has gone on long enough. It’s time we end things. You’re empty. Heaven knows you have no eggs to be hatched.”

I can barely breathe. The sounds of the party grow distant, muted by the ringing in my ears. “You’re ending our marriage because I can’t give you a child? Because your father won’t let it go?”

His jaw tightens, and the hardness in his eyes deepens. “This isn’t just about that, Isabelle. Do you think I haven’t seen it? The way you cling to me, desperate, pretending we still have something worth fighting for? It’s suffocating. I need someone who isn’t just… holding on because of who I am and what I have.”

“Clinging to you?” My voice cracks, and I take a step closer, desperation seeping into every pore of my body. “Damion, how can you say that? I love you! I’ve stood by you through everything, through the pressure, through the silence that felt like it would choke me. I’m not here for your wealth or your name. I’m here for you.”

He scoffs, a bitter sound that slices through me. “Love? Isabelle, love isn’t enough. It never has been. I need a partner who strengthens me, not someone who reminds me of failure every single day.”

His words land like punches, each one knocking the breath out of me. Failure. That’s what I am to him now. My hands shake as I reach for him, my fingers grazing the fabric of his suit. “Please, Damion. Don’t do this. We can find a way—there are other options. We can talk to the doctors again, we can—”

“No.” His tone is final, as if closing the chapter of a book. He steps back, and the space between us feels like an endless chasm. “I’m done talking. I’m done pretending this can be fixed. It can’t. And I’m done living this lie.”

I stagger back, the air thick with humiliation and disbelief. “A lie? Is that all I’ve been to you?”

His silence says more than words ever could. My chest tightens, and I force the sob threatening to escape back into my throat. Before I can plead further, the sound of laughter pierces the air.

A sharp, familiar laugh.

Kaia Jenkins steps into view, her blonde hair perfectly styled, her emerald dress shimmering as she weaves through the crowd with practiced elegance. She’s holding a glass of champagne, her lips curved in a smirk that sends a fresh wave of dread through me.

“Didn’t expect this, did you, Izzy?” Her voice drips with mock sweetness. She glances at the envelope in my trembling hands, her green eyes dancing with triumph. “Damion told me he was going to handle this tonight. But seeing it in person? Oh, it’s better than I imagined.”

My stomach churns. “Kaia, what is this? Why are you here?”

She slides an arm around Damion’s waist, and my world tilts further. “Because he invited me,” she says simply. “You see, I’ve been helping Damion figure out what he really needs. And unfortunately, it’s not you.”

Damion doesn’t push her away. He doesn’t move. My heart sinks further as Kaia presses a kiss to his jaw, her smile growing as the room begins to stir with whispers. The humiliation burns like fire, spreading across my skin.

“You’re mine now, Damion,” she purrs, loud enough for the nearby guests to hear. “And I’ll give you everything she couldn’t.”

I can barely hear over the ringing in my ears. My gaze shifts to the crowd, to the faces watching this unfold like some grotesque drama. I catch whispers—pity, amusement, judgment—and the shame is unbearable.

“Stop it,” I whisper, my voice trembling. “Kaia, you don’t—”

“Oh, but I do,” she interrupts smoothly. “You thought you had this perfect little life, didn’t you? But Damion and I… well, we’ve been planning this for a while. Haven’t we, darling?”

My eyes dart to Damion, searching for a denial, an explanation—anything. But his cold silence is the final blow.

I step back, the envelope slipping from my hands, and suddenly I feel like I’m drowning. The weight of their betrayal, the stares of the crowd—it’s too much. My knees threaten to buckle, but I force myself to stay upright, even as tears blur my vision.

“How did it come to this?” I whisper, the question hanging in the air, unanswered.