Artemis POV
The restaurant was too quiet.
Low jazz filtered through the air, but the clatter of cutlery and glass sounded too loud—too sharp—against the silence that stretched between me and the woman seated across the table. Luna. My wife—at least on paper.
She looked perfect, as always. A blush-toned silk dress clung to her figure, her waves cascading effortlessly past her shoulders. She’d even worn the necklace I gave her on our third anniversary.
But none of it moved me.
I stirred the glass of whiskey in my hand and broke the silence. “I’ve already spoken to the lawyers. The divorce papers are ready. I’ll be filing them this week.”
Her wine glass trembled in her fingers.
She didn’t respond at first. She just stared at me, unblinking, like she hadn’t heard.
Then she laughed—soft
