Married To My Ex-Husband's Billionaire Brother

Elena’s POV The city lights shone brightly right under the glass walls, and they looked exactly like small stars. I would have loved to touch them, but they were actually far away, and I could not touch them. I stood firmly on the marble floor, with no shoes on my feet, and the marble floor felt colder under my feet, more than I expected. I was still putting on my evening dress, and I still smelled of the sweet perfume I had sprayed on my body before the gala. The door made a soft click, and Adrian came in. His tie was loose, his hair looked messy, and his eyes looked heavy, like he was carrying something bad inside. “Where were you?” I asked, as I looked straight into his eyes, my voice sounded so calm, and my fingers held my dress firmly as if the dress wanted to escape. He didn't reply to me; he just put his phone on the counter and poured whiskey into a glass, and gulped it down his throat too fast, like he was the only one in the room. “I am asking you,” I said again, but my voice was louder this time. And it was louder this time. Adrian finally looked at me, his eyes were sharp, they were cold, as if he was bored with this marriage already. “Don’t start tonight, Elena.” My throat was burned. “I saw the photos. You and Vanessa. At the restaurant.” He didn’t even flinch; he just poured himself another drink. “So what?” The words slapped me harder than a hand could. “So what?” I repeated, and my voice cracked. “You’re married to me, Adrian. To me.” He sighed, ran his hand through his hair, and leaned against the counter. “You were never enough. Vanessa understands me. You… you don’t belong in my world.” My knees weakened, but I didn't fall. “Your world?” I whispered. “Yes,” he said, his voice was flat. “My world. You were a pretty face for the press. That’s all.” Silence filled the room; it was louder than his words, and my chest felt like it was caving in, but I forced myself to move. I walked to the closet, pulled out a suitcase, and threw it open on the bed. Dresses, shoes, photos, my hands shook as I packed, as if erasing every trace of myself from his life. Adrian followed me to the doorway. He didn’t stop me; he just watched and sipped his drink. “Say something,” I begged, and tears slid down my cheeks. “Tell me you didn’t mean it.” His face didn’t change. “If you want me to leave, you can leave.” The zip of the bag made a loud cry in the quiet room, and my fingers shook so much. I tried one time, but it failed, and I tried again, and then it eventually closed. I pulled the bag, and the wheels made a heavy sound on the shiny floor, like angry clouds. I stopped at the door, and I turned one more time. My chest begged me, stay… stay… hold him. But his eyes were cold and far away, and they didn't seem to see me. There was no love here for me now. I gripped the handle. “Adrian…” My voice was small, and it was breaking. He raised his glass. “Goodbye, Elena.” The word cut me open. I pulled the door open, and the cold night air rushed against my face. My chest was heavy, and my fingers were numb, but my feet moved. Step after step, I walked out of the penthouse, out of the glittering cage, out of his life. The door closed behind me with a final click. And that was the night I stopped being his wife. A week later, I was in my lawyer’s office, and I held a pen firmly in my fingers. The pen felt heavy in my hand; it was heavier than it should and I stared at the white paper in front of me, the black letters that tied my name to Adrian’s. “Elena,” my lawyer said softly, sliding the papers closer. “You just need to sign here. Then it’s over.” Over? The word felt sharp in my chest, and my hands shook. “Is he coming?” I asked, my voice was barely above a whisper. “He already signed,” the lawyer answered. “He left before you came.” A hollowed laugh escaped me. Of course. Adrian could sign away a marriage, just the same way he signed a business deal. With no hesitation and no fight. To him, it was just another contract. My lawyer cleared his throat. “We can delay this if you’re not ready.” I shook my head quickly. “No. Let’s finish.” I pressed the pen to the paper. My name looked strange beside his, Elena Moretti. A name I once thought I would carry forever. The scratch of the pen filled the silent office as I signed my freedom away. The lawyer exhaled. “It’s done.” My chest felt tight and my eyes stung, but still, I straightened my back and forced myself to nod. “Thank you.” I stood, but before I could move, the door burst open, and reporters pushed inside, and cameras flashed. “Elena! Elena!” “Did Adrian cheat with Vanessa Hale?” “Are you going back to your old life now?” “How much are you getting from the settlement?” I froze. I was blinded by the lights, and my lawyer shouted at them to leave, but their questions cut through me like knives. I clutched my bag; my voice was low. “No comment.” The cameras clicked faster. One reporter smirked. “So it’s true? He dumped you?” Something inside me snapped. I lifted my chin and met his gaze. “I walked away.” For a moment, the room went silent, and then more flashes and more questions. I pushed past them, out into the hallway, and my heart raced. When I stepped outside the building, the city noise hit me: horns, chatter, footsteps, but it all faded under the sound of my own breathing. I whispered to myself, “That was the day I stopped being Adrian Moretti’s wife.” The wind brushed against my face as if it agreed. But I didn’t know that it was also the day I stepped into another man’s world. Sebastian Moretti.