Red Bottoms

Chapter four: The Papers

Rafayel is in the middle of a call with a venture capitalist when the door to his office swings open without a single knock. He doesn't even look up at first, assuming it's Kelvin with another report, but the sudden scent of your perfume and the sharp thud of a folder hitting his mahogany desk make him freeze. He slowly lowers the phone, his crimson eyes shifting from the paperwork to you.

He reads the header: Petition for Dissolution of Marriage. The words are precise, professional, and utterly final. He looks at the papers, then up at you, his expression hardening. The fact that you didn't even wait for a legal representative - that you drafted these yourself and had the audacity to walk into his inner sanctum to demand a signature - stirs a volatile mix of fury and reluctant admiration in him.

"You've certainly become bold since you moved out," he says, his voice a low, dangerous purr. He doesn't pick up the pen. Instead, he leans back in his leather chair, crossing his arms and staring at you with a cold, calculating gaze. "Do you honestly think I'm going to sign away my reputation and the Jeager-Li alliance just because you've decided you're 'done'?"

He lets out a sharp, mocking exhale, his eyes scanning your face for any hint of doubt. To Rafayel, this is still a game of power. He doesn't care about the marriage, but he cares deeply about winning. The thought of you being the one to initiate the end - the one to discard him - is an insult he cannot simply sign away.

"Dinner with your parents?" he asks, a smirk curling his lips, though it doesn't reach his eyes. "I wonder how your father will react when he realizes his daughter is throwing away a strategic alliance for the sake of a 'penthouse' and a sense of independence. You're playing a dangerous game, Bianca. If you want my signature, you'll find that I'm not nearly as easy to get rid of as a wedding ring in a sink."

He slowly pushes the folder back toward you with one finger, refusing to touch the pen. "Get out of my office. I'll decide if these are worth my time after I've had a chance to laugh at the audacity of it all."

The sound of the door slamming echoes through the office, vibrating the glass walls and leaving a heavy, ringing silence in its wake. Rafayel remains motionless in his chair, staring at the closed door with a look of genuine bewilderment. No one has ever walked out on him - not like that. The cold certainty in your voice, the way you didn't even blink at his threats, leaves him feeling strangely hollow.

He looks down at the divorce papers again. He wants to tear them up. He wants to call your father and tell him exactly how "unstable" you've become. But as he reaches for the folder, he finds himself remembering the image of you walking away from him in the lobby, the way you looked at Zane, and the absolute indifference you had for his status.

For the first time, Rafayel feels a flicker of something he can't identify. It isn't love - it's too early for that - but it is a sudden, piercing curiosity. He is used to women who crave his attention or fear his anger. You are the first person to treat him like a nuisance.

Meanwhile, Estella arrives at the office, skipping into the room with a bright smile and a shopping bag from a luxury boutique. She leans over his desk, oblivious to the tension. "Rafayel! I found the most amazing dress for the gala next month. I already imagined how we'll look together - you in black, and I in a shimmering gold..."

She glances at the divorce papers on the desk, her eyes widening. She lets out a small, triumphant giggle. "Did she actually try to divorce you? Oh, how pathetic! She's just desperate for your attention, honey. Don't let her little temper tantrum distract you."

Rafayel doesn't respond to Estella. He doesn't even look at the dress. He is staring at the door you just slammed, his jaw tight. He slowly reaches for his phone and dials Kelvin.

"Kelvin," he says, his voice sounding strained, almost breathless. "Find out every single detail about the business ventures Bianca is currently managing. I want to know who her partners are, how her margins look, and exactly how much she's making. All of it."

He hangs up, his eyes narrowing. If you want to play this as a business transaction, he will play the game - but he intends to make sure that by the time he signs those papers, you are the one who is desperate.

As you exit the building, the tension of the office melts away the moment you see Zane. The genuine warmth in your voice and the way you cling to his arm is a far cry from the icy wall you built around yourself for Rafayel. You're finally in your own element, laughing and chatting about family and birthdays, completely forgetting that the man you just defied is likely still staring at the door you slammed.

Zane lets out a soft, amused chuckle, his expression fond as he guides you toward the SUV. He doesn't mind your playful accusation; in fact, he seems to enjoy the spark of life in your eyes that was missing for so long.

"Now, now, Bianca," Zane replies with a smile, his tone gentle. "You know how it is. The kids were practically vibrating with excitement. I tried to sneak out early, but Timmy had a very specific list of cake requirements that only I could manage. I didn't want to disrupt your flow at the office - you were on a roll today."

As he opens the door for you and you slide into the plush leather seat, the city lights begin to twinkle around you. For the first time in years, you feel a sense of peace. You aren't thinking about the Jeager name, the forced marriage, or the crimson-eyed man who thinks he owns you. You are simply a woman going to dinner with her parents, ready to reclaim her life.

Back at the office, Rafayel is still sitting in the silence of his room. He can't stop thinking about the way you laughed when you left. He doesn't know who "Meriah" is, but the sound of your genuine happiness - a sound he never once heard directed at him - feels like a challenge. He leans back, staring at the ceiling, his mind racing. He tells himself he only wants to win the game, but the feeling of being completely erased from your heart is starting to irritate him in a way that no business loss ever has.

The splash is loud and chaotic, sending water cascading in every direction. You and Meriah emerge from the pool, gasping for air and laughing hysterically, your short sweat suit clinging to your skin and your hair plastered to your face. In this moment, you aren't a socialite, a business mogul, or a scorned wife. You're just a woman who is finally, truly free, surrounded by people who love you for who you are, not for the alliance you represent.

Zane is standing at the edge of the pool, shaking his head with a wide, amused grin. He doesn't even try to stop you; he just laughs, the sound blending with the screams of the children playing nearby. The atmosphere is warm, loud, and filled with a kind of raw, honest affection that you never found in the sterile halls of the Jeager Mansion.

While you are splashing around and enjoying the simple joy of friendship, Rafayel is in a very different environment. He is sitting in his dark office, the only light coming from the glow of his computer screen. Kelvin has just delivered the report on your business ventures, but Rafayel is barely reading the numbers. He is staring at a photo Kelvin managed to find from a social media post - a candid shot of you laughing with Zane and Meriah.

He sees the way you're looking at them. The genuine, unbridled joy on your face. He compares it to every single interaction he's ever had with you - the cold silences, the forced politeness, the resentment. He feels a sharp, unfamiliar sting in his chest. He tells himself it's just annoyance that you're "slumming it" with people who aren't in their social circle, but deep down, he's unsettled.

Estella walks in, wearing a silk robe, her expression smug. "Still staring at her files, Rafayel? Give it up. She's probably just trying to make you jealous. She's probably miserable in that penthouse, pretending to be happy for a few photos."

Rafayel doesn't look at her. His gaze remains fixed on your laughing face in the photo. For the first time, Estella's voice sounds like static to him. He doesn't believe her. He can see it in your eyes - you aren't pretending. You are actually happy without him.

He shuts the laptop with a sharp snap, his expression turning lethal. "She thinks she can just walk away and be happy," he whispers to himself, his pride warring with a sudden, desperate need to be the center of your world again. "We'll see how long that lasts."

The warmth of the children's hugs and the lingering scent of birthday cake stay with you as you climb back into the SUV. Your heart feels light, the stress of the morning's confrontation with Rafayel feeling like a distant memory. You lean back against the leather seat, closing your eyes for a moment and enjoying the quiet hum of the engine. Giving Zane three days off was a small gesture, but one that reflects the kindness you've finally reclaimed in your life.

As you arrive back at your penthouse, you quickly shower and change, swapping the casual sweat suit for an elegant, sophisticated dress that commands respect without sacrificing your femininity. You take a deep breath, centering yourself. Tonight isn't just a dinner; it's a declaration of independence. You aren't asking your father for permission; you are informing him of your decision.

Meanwhile, at the Jeager mansion, the atmosphere is stifling. Rafayel is sitting at the head of the long dining table, the silence of the room amplified by the void where you used to sit. Estella is beside him, chatting animatedly about a trip to Paris she wants to plan, her voice high and persistent.

"And then we could visit that little boutique in Le Marais! You'd love it, Rafayel. Imagine us walking through the streets, just the two of us, without any... distractions," she says, her tone dripping with a hidden jab at your absence.

Rafayel isn't listening. He's staring at his plate, his appetite completely gone. He keeps thinking about the "three days off" you gave Zane. He doesn't know how he knows - Kelvin had mentioned it in a brief update - but the fact that you are taking care of your staff, being generous and thoughtful, irritates him. It creates a version of you that he doesn't recognize: a version that is soft, kind, and loved.

He suddenly pushes his chair back, the sound of the wood scraping against the marble floor echoing like a gunshot. Estella stops mid-sentence, blinking in surprise.

"Where are you going, honey?" she asks, her voice fluttering.

"I have a headache," Rafayel lies, his voice flat and devoid of emotion. He doesn't look at her. He strides out of the room, his mind fixated on one thing: the dinner you're currently having with your parents. He knows your father's stubbornness, and he knows that if you've actually convinced Adan Li to support a divorce, the power dynamic in this marriage has shifted irrevocably.

He stops by the window, looking out at the city lights, his crimson eyes darkening. He doesn't want you back because he loves you - not yet - but he cannot tolerate the thought of you being the one to win.