Billionaire's Secret Heir

Susan POV "Please, Susan, I want a divorce," Tristan told me, his face a blank canvas. His words pierced my heart like a knife, and I felt my world collapse around me, scattering into a thousand pieces. Frozen like a statue, I slowly raised my eyes to him, fighting against the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. I had known all along that Tristan, my husband, would eventually bring up divorce—especially now that his first love had returned to the country after five years in Paris. However, I hadn't expected him to discuss it tonight. We were okay. Why would he ruin this wonderful evening? "Why, Tristan? What have I done to deserve this?" Deep down, I already knew the reason, yet I still needed to hear it from his lips—even if it shattered me. I would rather cry over the truth than smile through a lie. "I want a son, Susan. I've waited, but you still failed to give me one," he replied, his tone devoid of remorse. His face remained expressionless as he looked at me. A shadow of pain crossed my eyes at the mention of “son,” and unwelcome memories flooded back. Our two-year-old son had died two years ago in a car accident. I was there when it happened, and to this day, I still blame myself for losing him. I tried to conceive another child, but despite years of effort, I had failed to get pregnant. "I've been waiting for years, and I can't wait any longer. Maybe it's time for us to part ways and move on," he added, my eyes widening in disbelief. This wasn't the Tristan I had known for so long. He was lying. That wasn't the only reason he wanted a divorce. My fingers balled into fists in my lap as the memory of seeing Jennifer and Tristan sharing a date at a fine dining restaurant flashed through my mind. I had witnessed it by accident. Since then, I had kept quiet, waiting for him to open up about it, but unfortunately, he never did. If he had nothing to hide, he would have told me. The fact that he didn't share what transpired between him and Jennifer meant he had secrets to conceal. But who was I to judge him? Jennifer, the stunning Italian model, was his first love, who had left him to focus on her career in Paris. Even after four years, I sensed that Tristan hadn't forgotten her. Deep down, I knew he was still in love with her. It had always been a one-sided love between us. Tristan married me to spite his father, who had married his mistress after his mother left. The same year his father remarried, Jennifer vanished from his life. Tristan married a lowly restaurant server as an act of revenge, and even now, his father hadn't forgiven him for choosing me. Suddenly, I became aware that I was still holding my glass. My gaze shifted back to his face. Painfully, I swallowed my pride. "I'm doing my best to conceive a child, Tristan. Please give me another chance. Let's wait another year, and if I'm still unable to bear a son, I will agree to a divorce." I pleaded. It was the only way I knew to save our marriage. "I can't wait any longer, Susan. I want a child, and as my wife, you've failed. That reason alone is enough for me to leave this marriage." His sharp words pierced straight through my heart. For a moment, I was left speechless. The Tristan Glass I once knew wasn't this ruthless man seated across from me at the round table. Now, he felt like a stranger. Though he hadn't been in love with me when we married, Tristan had been a good and generous man. He never lifted a hand to hurt me, nor did he ever say a word that caused me pain during our marriage. But now, the goodness I once saw in him had vanished entirely. My chest tightened, and I suddenly found it hard to breathe. A thousand knives stabbed at my heart. I sacrificed everything for him, even my only chance to pursue my dream job abroad because I loved him, but all he gave me in return was heartache. Seeing how lightly he was treating this divorce shattered my heart into a million pieces. If only Max, our son, hadn't died in that accident, this would never have happened. I closed my eyes, gathering courage to hold back my tears. My fist clenched under the table, containing the bubbling anger longing to erupt from within me. Tristan might be the dream guy for every woman, but to me, he was my worst nightmare. I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked up at him, suppressing the tears that threatened to spill. A pair of beautiful gray eyes stared back at me. They used to be filled with warmth and laughter whenever they looked at me, but now they held nothing but chilling civility. "I can't go on like this, Susan," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "The best thing we can do is part ways." "Please, Tristan, I'm willing to give you everything you want, but not a divorce. Please give this marriage a chance," I pleaded, reaching for his hand. But the moment my fingers brushed against his, he quickly pulled away. "My mind's made up. There's nothing you can do to change it." The finality in his tone pierced through me. "But—" "No. My decision is final." Tristan cut me off sharply. With his eyebrows furrowed, he rose from his seat. "I've wasted four years of my life with you. It's time for me to move on and let go. Like it or not, I'm getting a divorce." His words echoed painfully in my ears. For a moment, I closed my eyes, gathering myself before I surrendered to tears in front of him. When I finally opened my eyes, I felt a newfound control over my emotions. Summoning all the courage I could muster, I met his gaze, letting go of the self-pity that had consumed me. Hatred began to take its place. I abandoned my chair with the grace of a queen. "I've done my best to be a perfect wife to you and made countless sacrifices to keep us together, but ultimately, I failed. Perhaps you're right—we need space. If divorce is what you want, then I'm giving it to you."