Julian's POV
The divorce papers felt like they weighed a thousand pounds.
I stood in my own living room—covered in pink decorations I'd barely noticed—holding an envelope that proved my wife had given up on me. My hands shook as I pulled out the papers. Official legal documents. Petition for Dissolution of Marriage. Emma's signature was already there, neat and final.
This wasn't a threat. This wasn't her asking for attention.
Emma was leaving me.
"Julian?" Sophie's voice cut through my panic. "What is that?"
I looked up. Sophie stood in the doorway to Lily's room, looking curious but not concerned. Not worried that she'd just destroyed a marriage. Just... interested.
And suddenly, I saw her clearly for the first time in ten years.
Sophie Hart wasn't the girl I remembered. That girl—the one I'd built into some perfect fantasy—never existed. This woman in front of me was a stranger wearing a familiar face.
"You need to leave," I said.
"What?"
"Get out of my house. Now."
Sophie's eyes went cold. "Are you seriously blaming me because your wife can't handle—"
"OUT!"
She flinched. I'd never yelled at her before. Never yelled at anyone, really. My father taught me that powerful men didn't raise their voices. But right now, I didn't care about power or control or any of it.
My wife was leaving me, and it was my fault.
Sophie grabbed her purse and walked to the elevator without another word. Good. I didn't want to look at her anymore.
The penthouse was empty now. All the parents had taken their kids home. Lily's party was over, ruined by my stupidity. I could hear my daughter crying in her room and Emma's soft voice trying to comfort her.
"Mommy, why doesn't Daddy love us?"
The words hit me like a punch to the stomach.
I sank onto the couch, still holding the divorce papers. How did I get here? How did I become the kind of man whose four-year-old daughter thought he didn't love her?
I thought back to this morning. I'd left before dawn for an early meeting. Had I said goodbye to Emma? To Lily? I couldn't remember. When was the last time I'd actually talked to my wife about anything real? When was the last time I'd played with my daughter?
My phone buzzed. A text from my assistant: Mr. Pierce, Mrs. Pierce's attorney just called. They're requesting a meeting next week to discuss custody arrangements and asset division. Should I schedule it?
Custody arrangements. Asset division. The legal destruction of my family.
My fingers moved automatically, typing back: No. I'll handle this myself.
But how? How do you fix something you've been breaking for five years?
I heard footsteps and looked up. Emma walked out of Lily's room, closing the door softly behind her. She'd been crying—her eyes were red—but her face was set in stone.
"She's asleep," Emma said quietly. "She cried herself out."
Shame burned through me. "Emma, I—"
"Did you read them?" She nodded at the papers in my hands.
"I'm not signing these."
"Yes, you are."
"We have a daughter. We have a life together. I know I've been... distant, but we can fix this. We can go to counseling or—"
"Julian." Emma's voice was so tired. "I've been begging you to notice me for five years. You couldn't even show up on time for your daughter's birthday. What exactly do you think counseling will fix?"
"Today was a mistake. Sophie called and—"
"Sophie." Emma laughed, but it sounded broken. "Of course it was Sophie. It's always Sophie, isn't it? The girl you've been in love with since you were seventeen. The reason you look at me like I'm a bad consolation prize."
"That's not fair—"
"Fair?" Emma's eyes flashed with anger I'd never seen before. "You kept her photo in your desk drawer for our entire marriage. You light up around her like she's the sun. You brought her to our daughter's birthday party and smiled at her more in five minutes than you've smiled at me in five years. So don't talk to me about fair."
Every word was true. I couldn't deny any of it.
"I didn't realize—"
"That's the problem, Julian. You never realize. You never see me. I've organized your entire life, raised your daughter alone, managed your house, attended your events, and you don't even know my favorite color."
I opened my mouth and realized with horror that she was right. I had no idea.
"It's yellow," Emma said softly, watching my face. "Like sunflowers. I told you on our wedding day. You weren't listening then either."
The shame was suffocating now.
"Emma, please. Give me a chance to—"
"I gave you five years of chances." She walked to the door, grabbing her purse. "I'm staying at my apartment tonight. Lily needs space from both of us right now. You can see her tomorrow afternoon. My lawyer will contact you about custody schedules."
"Your apartment? What apartment?"
Emma looked at me with something like pity. "The one I've had for three years. The one where I run my design business. The one you never asked about because you never asked about anything in my life."
She opened the door.
"Don't go," I said desperately. "Please. Just stay tonight. Let's talk about this."
"We're done talking, Julian. We've been done for a long time. I just finally accepted it."
Emma walked out, and the elevator doors closed behind her.
I sat alone in my pink-decorated living room, holding divorce papers, and finally understood what I'd lost.
My phone buzzed again. Another text, but not from my assistant this time. Unknown number.
Mr. Pierce, this is Robert Hart, Emma's father. I think it's time we had a conversation about your marriage to my daughter. Meet me at Hart Holdings tomorrow at 9 AM. Don't be late. And Julian? You might want to check who actually owns the controlling shares in Pierce Industries before you come. It'll make our conversation much more... educational.
My blood went cold.
Hart Holdings? Emma's father?
I pulled up Pierce Industries' shareholder information on my phone—something I should have memorized but never bothered to check in detail. My company was privately held, with shares distributed among founding families and investors.
I scrolled down the list.
And there it was: Hart Family Trust - 40% ownership.
Forty percent. The single largest shareholder in my company wasn't me. It was Emma's family.
Emma, who I'd treated like she came from nothing. Emma, who I'd married thinking I was doing her a favor. Emma, who I'd dismissed as having no power, no connections, no worth beyond being Lily's mother.
I'd been married to a woman from one of the most powerful families in the city, and I never even knew.
Worse—she knew. She'd known the whole time and never said a word. Never used it against me. Never threatened me with it.
Until now.
My phone rang. I answered without checking the number.
"Julian Pierce." My voice came out rough.
"Mr. Pierce, this is Attorney Rachel Chen from Hart Holdings legal department." The woman's voice was professional and cold. "I'm calling to inform you that Mrs. Emma Hart Pierce has filed for divorce and is requesting full primary custody of your daughter Lily. She's also invoking her rights as a Hart family member to review all Pierce Industries business dealings from the past five years. As the Hart family controls 40% of your company, we have that authority. The review begins Monday."
"Wait, she can't just—"
"She can, and she is. Also, Mr. Pierce? Mrs. Pierce has requested that all future communication go through legal channels only. Do not contact her directly. Do not go to her apartment. Do not show up at her workplace. Any violation will be considered harassment, and we will file a restraining order. Are we clear?"
"I need to talk to my wife—"
"You need to talk to your lawyer. Good evening, Mr. Pierce."
She hung up.
I stared at my phone, my mind reeling.
Emma wasn't just leaving me. She was destroying me.
And the worst part? I deserved every bit of it.
My phone buzzed one more time. A text from Emma's number:
You wanted Sophie so badly? Congratulations. You can have her. I'm done being invisible in my own marriage. Sign the papers, Julian. Because I promise you—if you make me fight for this divorce, you'll lose everything. And I mean EVERYTHING.
P.S. - That company you're so proud of? My family built it. You've just been playing CEO with our money. Remember that tomorrow when my father explains exactly how little power you actually have.
The phone slipped from my hands.
What had I done?