Waited For His Love, I Divorced Instead

At St. Grace Church, on the outskirts of the city, beneath a maple tree surrounded by a carpet of crimson leaves, a handsome young priest in black clerical robes sat across from a wealthy heiress in an understated couture dress. A maple leaf drifted down and landed on the stone table between them. Father Quade Zavala spoke quietly, "Ms. Serrano, if you keep using your own blood and life force every month to suppress the poison that has been in Yannick's body for years, you won't last another year." Hailey's expression did not change. She raised the glass of Cabernet in front of her and drained it. "Once I finish this bottle, there will be only two bottles of this fifty-year-old Napa Valley Cabernet left. Shame your vows won't let you have any, Quade." Quade watched her brush off her own impending death as though it meant nothing. His fingers tightened helplessly around the rosary in his hand. After swallowing the last drop, Hailey rose slowly, the strong scent of wine clinging to her. "Yannick should be back at the villa soon. I'd better go." Quade watched her solitary figure disappear into the distance, unable to hide the pain in his eyes. Love had a way of grinding down even the strongest people. Hailey Serrano controlled most of the Serrano Group and commanded respect wherever she went, yet even she could not escape its torment. ***** Back at Serrano Villa, Hailey had been home only a few minutes when Yannick Landry returned. He was strikingly handsome, with cool, refined features and an air of polished detachment, like a diamond carved from ice. Hailey walked over and reached for his suit jacket. Yannick instinctively took a step back. "I've been out all day. I'm covered in dust. Don't dirty your hands." His words were perfectly polite, but the cold distance in them was nothing like the way a husband of three years should speak to his wife. Hailey paused, then reached for his lapels anyway. Yannick stopped resisting and let her remove the jacket, but the naked disgust in his eyes was impossible to miss. The look cut straight into her heart. Her chest tightened. She turned away, hung the jacket on the rack, and said softly, "I made some sweet soup. Will you try it?" Yannick did not move. "You didn't have to cook for me, Ms. Serrano. I'm not worth the trouble." Hailey fell silent for a few seconds, then persisted in a quiet voice. "Yannick, I made it because I wanted you to have some. Just take one bite. Please?" His hand clenched inside his sleeve until his knuckles turned white. "Fine. I'll have some." He walked past Hailey completely expressionless. As he did, a faint fragrance drifted from the sachet at his waist, hitting Hailey's nose. The light in Hailey's eyes dimmed. She knew that scent all too well. Mira Blanchard, Yannick's childhood sweetheart, had created the blend herself and named it Waiting for Your Return. Today, the scent on him was much stronger than usual. Hailey turned toward him. "You went to Mira's again today?" Yannick's expression hardened at once, and he suddenly asked coldly, "You had someone follow me?" Under his sharp, accusing stare, bitterness spread through Hailey's chest. The explanation on the tip of her tongue died there. She held his gaze and drew a slow breath. "It's the fifteenth. Under our agreement, you're supposed to spend tonight in the master bedroom." Yannick stared at her for a second, then let out a mocking laugh. "You still need a contract to force a man into your bed?" Hailey kept her expression composed. "It's in the prenup. You agreed to it." Behind her back, her nails dug into her palm until the pain faded into numbness. Yannick gave a cold scoff, strode forward, seized her wrist, and swept her into his arms. The bedroom was lit only by the warm glow of the bedside lamp. There was no tenderness in the way he touched her, only anger and impatience. Hailey endured his rough movements in silence, feeling like a small boat caught in a violent storm, moments from being swallowed whole. She bit hard on her lower lip and looked up at the man above her, unable to stop herself from whispering his name again and again. "Yannick... Yannick..." Then she heard him murmur another woman's name under his breath. "Mira..." Hailey's breath stopped. It felt as though she had been hurled from a great height. Every inch of her went cold. As soon as it was over, Yannick dressed quickly and left without giving her another glance. He never spent the night in her room. Hailey lay drained and motionless on the bed. Before long, a violent coughing fit seized her. A thin trickle of bright red blood slipped from the corner of her mouth. She picked up the black suit jacket Yannick had left beside the bed, wrapped it around herself, and stumbled toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. A bottle of liquor and two glasses always sat on the low table by the window. The liquor burned down her throat and washed away the taste of blood. The pain deep in her chest remained unbearable, but something inside her loosened slightly. She stared into the empty hallway, refilled her glass, and whispered, "Yannick, once I make it to the end of this road, you'll finally be free." Early the next morning, Micah Serrano, the chairman of Serrano Group and Hailey's younger brother, had his assistant summon both of them to his office on the top floor. After a brief greeting, Hailey sat down. Micah looked at her with a gentle smile and asked softly, "How have you been, Hailey?" Hailey smiled faintly. "What could possibly be wrong?" Micah's gaze hardened as he turned to Yannick. "I've heard you've been spending a lot of time at Blanchard Villa lately. Is that true?" Yannick's face paled at once.