THE LAST BREATH OF A BROKEN WIFE

The monitor in the doctor's office chirped with a rhythmic, fragile sound—the sound of Aria’s heart struggling to keep up with the life inside her. "The pregnancy is putting a Grade 4 strain on your mitral valve, Aria," Dr. Lowen said, his voice heavy. "If you don't start the Blackwood Trial treatment this week, your heart will simply... stop. But the drug is experimental. It could harm the baby." Aria smoothed her hand over her still-flat stomach. "I’ll wait, Doctor. The baby comes first." She walked out of the clinic, clutching the sonogram like a shield, ready to finally tell her husband. She expected a celebration. She expected the man who had promised to love her forever to hold her and tell her they would fight the illness together. Instead, when she entered the Blackwood Manor, she was met with a wall of ice. "Sign them." A stack of papers slid across the mahogany desk. At the top, in bold, cruel letters, were the words: DECREE OF DIVORCE. Aria looked up, her breath hitching. Silas stood by the window, his silhouette tall and imposing, his back turned to her. Standing beside him was Melanie, dabbing at a fake tear on her cheek. "Silas? What is this?" Aria’s voice trembled. "Don't say my name with that mouth," he spat, finally turning. His eyes, once warm with passion, were now filled with a loathing so deep it made Aria’s knees weak. He tossed a tablet onto the desk. On the screen was a grainy video of Aria handing a briefcase to a man in a dark alley. It was a perfect fabrication—the very secrets of the Blackwood Heart Initiative being 'sold' to their rivals. "I didn't do this, Silas. I was at the hospital! I have the records—" "The records you faked to get sympathy?" Silas stepped closer, his shadow engulfing her. "Melanie told me everything. How you tried to push her down the stairs to keep her from telling me about your lover. How you’ve been draining my accounts to fund your exit." "Silas, please... I’m sick. And I have something to tell you... I’m—" "I don't care if you're dying, Aria," he hissed, leaning down until his lips brushed her ear, his breath cold. "In fact, I’d prefer it. You are no longer a Blackwood. You leave this house with nothing. Not a cent, not a coat, and certainly not my name." He looked at her fragile frame, his eyes flickering for a second to her pale face, but Melanie’s soft "sob" pulled him back. "Security is waiting to escort you out. If you ever approach me or the company again, I’ll have you arrested for treason." Aria looked at the man she worshipped. Her heart gave a sharp, agonizing flutter—a literal c***k in her chest. She realized then that the truth wouldn't save her. He had already executed her in his heart. She picked up the pen. With a hand that shook like a leaf in a storm, she signed her name for the last time. Aria Blackwood. She didn't tell him about the child. She didn't tell him that by kicking her out, he was signing a death warrant for the only woman who had ever truly loved him. As the security guard grabbed her arm to lead her into the pouring rain, Aria took a shuddering breath. It felt like the beginning of the end. It was the first day of her life as a ghost.