Chapter 0365

Hannah

My mind reeled as I stared at the words: Notice of Divorce. The world seemed to tilt on its axis as I reread them. If I’d had the strength, I might have pinched myself to see if I was dreaming. But I just stood frozen, my arms hanging limply.

“…What?” I choked out after an eternity, a lump in my throat feeling like shards of glass piercing my esophagus.

Noah’s eyes were cold, devoid of warmth or love. So unlike the man who had held me all night, so far from the husband who’d thrown me a baby shower, called me his queen, and kissed me in front of everyone. “I want a divorce,” he said flatly.

My throat bobbed. “Why?” The glass shards shattered further. I could hardly breathe.

Noah merely shrugged, shoving the top paper—the one with two signature lines, his already signed—toward me. That movement alone felt like a punch to the gut. This had to be a cruel joke, a horrible prank, a poor attempt at macabre humor.

But as I searched his face for any sign of the sweet, loving man I thought I knew, I found only contempt. Before, little wildfires had burned in those green eyes; now, that forest was as icy as the coldest winter.

“You’re… you’re joking, right?” I asked, my voice trembling.

Noah let out a harsh laugh. “Joking? God, you really are as stupid as you look. I’m honestly sorry that you’re dumb enough to believe I would ever love someone like you.”

Each word was a dagger to my heart. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. This couldn’t be happening. I would have crumpled to the floor if not for the wall beside me. I pushed against it, begging my legs to hold me upright.

“But… but the baby,” I stammered, my hand instinctively moving to my swollen belly.

Noah’s lip curled in disgust. “You mean that thing? I’ve always known it’s not mine. You’ve probably been whoring around with Drake or who knows who else. Maybe you don’t even know who the father is.”

With that, he shoved the paper closer, yanking a pen from his jacket pocket and throwing it on the table.

“Noah, what’s happening to you?” I begged, tears forming. “What’s going on? Yesterday, you… we… Does Zoe have anything to do with this?”

“What? You thought I was actually talking to Zoe today?” He sneered. “I was finalizing the divorce from my end.”

“But last night—”

“Right,” he huffed, looking away with a clenched jaw. “The sex. I just needed to keep you happy to stop you from trying to take money or items from the house. That’s why I’ve been so sweet, throwing parties for you, buying you things… fucking you. Goddess, you’re just as dumb as you’ve always been, Hannah.”

The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. All of it—the tender moments, the lovemaking, the baby shower—had all been a lie, a calculated move to keep me docile while he prepared to throw me away.

Hot, viscous fury bubbled up inside me, mixing with the pain and hurt until I could barely see straight.

With shaking hands, I grabbed the papers and the pen. “You lying bastard,” I spat, scribbling my signature.

As I signed, my eyes fell on the silver picture frame Noah had given me the night before. I’d placed it on the foyer table, hoping to someday fill it and display it proudly. Not anymore.

In a fit of rage, I grabbed it and smashed it on the floor. The glass shattered, scattering across the marble tiles. “Bastard,” I repeated, my voice hoarse.

Noah didn’t flinch—not at the frame, not at the words. As the glass skittered across the floor between us, his expression remained impassive, as if he didn’t even recognize the gift he’d given me yesterday.

“There,” I said, shoving the signed papers at him. “You got what you wanted. I hope you’re happy.”