LUSH.
I'd rather cry in a Bugatti than fake a smile on broken streets with empty pockets.
Call me heartless, call me a gold-digging bitch, or shameless—I don't care. I'll take designer despair over budget joy any day.
It's been five minutes since Maven told me he wanted a divorce.
Five minutes since he sat across from me at the dining table we had once picked out together, in his perfectly pressed suit, trying to look composed while dropping the kind of news that should have broken me.
But guess what?
It didn't. Not on the outside, at least.
But on the inside?
Inside, everything had stilled. My lungs had forgotten how to breathe. My fingers, curled around the mug, had gone cold. There was a tightness in my chest that wasn't heartbreak. It was restraint. The kind that keeps a woman from collapsing when the room tilts and nothing feels real anymore.
I know I should've screamed. I should've thrown the cup, probably at him. I should've demanded answers from him.
But instead, I sipped my coffee.
Because the truth is, I'd already seen it coming... The late nights at 'work,' passworded gadgets, secret calls and texts, the way he started turning his phone face-down...
Women know.
We always know.
We just pretend we don't because hope is easier to wear than heartbreak.
"You aren't saying anything, Lush," His voice reached me through the fog like it came from another room. I blinked once, twice, and then slowly lifted my gaze to him.
He had the audacity to look concerned as if he hadn't been slipping away from me, inch by inch, for the past year.
Well, he looked pathetic sitting there, trying to act like he gave a damn. He acted like the same man who once said he'd die if he ever lost me wasn't the one now handing me my exit.
I loved him. Stupidly and wildly. The kind of love that had me building castles in the clouds with him as king.
But I was never foolish.
The moment the signs started showing, I already started preparing for it.
The only problem here was that my plans weren't yet mature. I needed one more year for everything to fall in place before I could accept whatever stupid divorce he was talking about.
He was trying to cut the cord too soon.
"Okay," I replied before picking up my coffee and taking a sip, letting the rich bitterness coat my tongue.
My hands didn't shake. My voice didn't crack. I swallowed down the scream that had risen to my throat and chased it with the coffee.
It was a beautiful Tuesday morning. Sunlight spilled through the kitchen windows, pooling like gold across the marble countertops. I had a 10 a.m. board meeting and an inspection at the new office site... The same office Maven was building for me. That was before he decided I was no longer convenient to his narrative.
But I wasn't going to let him stop halfway. He would finish every damn project he ever started for me. And he'll do them before I sign those papers.
He looked stunned. Maybe he thought I'd cry. Break down. Get hysterical and beg him to stay.
"Okay?" he scoffed, rising from the dining chair like he'd just been stabbed. "That's all you've got to say?"
His indignation would've been amusing if it didn't sting so damn much.
"What, did you expect me to wail? To grovel at your feet?"
I set the cup aside and rose, the silk of my robe catching the sunlight. "Come on, honey. Let's cut out the drama. Your mind's made up. Isn't it?"
He blinked rapidly, obviously caught off guard, his Hazel eyes flickering just a fraction in a blend of confusion and a pinch of regret. He searched my face, maybe for the woman who used to fall apart when he raised his voice.
But all he found was steel.
But he didn't know that under that steel, I was already bleeding.
"However, I have a request," I stopped midway out of the kitchen, turning to face him.
"What request?" He asked, even though his voice sounded strained, nervous, and confused.
I took a breath that scraped down my throat like glass. "We stay married. To the public and on paper. For one more year."
My tone was almost businesslike. But my chest felt like it had caved in. "Until I'm fully set up and ready to walk away on my own terms." I proposed, and there, that arrogance he had been waiting to display slowly crept in.
He chuckled, "That's ridiculous, Lush. I mean… we can't. I don't love you anymore."
He rubbed his hand through his hair, avoiding my eyes like they might burn him. "We can't keep living like husband and wife. I have—"
"She can move in with you, Maven," I cut in. I knew where this was going, "I won't interfere with your personal life anymore," I said and paused, forcing out the words that sliced the back of my throat, "I've built so much with you, dear husband. You owe me a lot. And I expect that debt to be paid in full in one year."
I stood still, willing myself not to blink too long or breathe too deep. If I lost control now, I'd unravel right here in front of him.
And he didn't deserve to see that.
I watched him carefully, my heart tapping nervously against my ribs, hoping against all odds that he would accept my proposal.
This was my last card. The Presley name held power, doors, opportunities, just name it. That name was the golden key to the empire I'd been trying to build. I wasn't about to give it up just when I was finally on the brink of rising and starting something big for myself.
Never.
He studied me with his jaw clenched and his arms crossed. I could see the battle in his eyes—the guilt, the discomfort, and the selfish relief.
"Okay. Deal." Just two words.
But I felt my lungs collapse in quiet gratitude.
It took everything in me not to throw myself at him and sob into his chest like I used to when the world felt too cruel.
But I wasn't that woman anymore.
"Deline will be moving in by the weekend," he added, barely above a whisper.
He couldn't even look me in the eye.
And God, that stung like acid poured over an open wound. I wouldn't deny it.
But it was fine. I would just have to pick up the pieces of my life after five years of being married to the man I thought was in love with me.
"That's fine, Maven," I said, but the words tasted like blood and broken glass. "See you in the office," I added and walked away before the tears could crawl up my throat and betray me in the presence of a man who no longer saw me as his.
But now wasn't the time for tears.
Now was the time to make sure I utilized my one year properly. And by the time I was done with all I had planned out, I would walk away on stilettos and steel, with my head held high, and I swear, I'd never look back.