Billionaire CEO’s Wife Is Leaving Again

Helena’s POV My resolve remains unwavering even though the pen trembles in my hand. Like a final decision, the divorce papers are strewn across the table in front of me. I feel as though the stark white pages are staring at me and urging me to reconsider. However, there is no turning back. Not right now. Not with everything that has transpired. At the bottom of the document, Nathaniel's name is printed in bold, official lettering, and I look at it. *Nathaniel Whitmore*. I once believed that this man would be with me forever. The man who broke me. I still recall the day we exchanged vows. His name beside mine seemed like a promise of eternity back then. However, it appears that promises are easily broken. I get a chilly chill, and my hand lingers over the page, uneasy. But I know in my heart that this is correct. I must do this. This is something I need to do. The decision no longer feels burdensome; rather, it feels liberating. I inhale deeply, as if to muster the bravery to face the life I've been running from. My pulse quickens, the room's air seems thinner, and my chest gets constricted. I've been waiting for this moment. But for some reason, I don't feel the fear I should. No panic is present. I have no regrets. Just some clarity. My heart is thumping so loudly that I can hardly hear myself say, "You've waited long enough, Helene." "The time has come." My fingers are oddly steady as I pick up the pen from the table, despite the flurry of emotions roiling inside of me. I bring it down to the paper, breaking the silence with the sound of ink on paper. My name, Helene Hayes, is written in a signature that I have proudly signed innumerable times while I was a part of Nathaniel's empire and *his* world. However, that signature feels liberating today. An exhale of liberation. I allowed my gaze to wander to the desk's framed picture. It's a moment captured in time from our wedding day. Young Helene and Nate were beaming and full of aspirations for the future. We appeared so confident and in love. However, it seems like that was a lifetime ago. The man I currently see is not the same as the one I married. He isn't the man who supported me during my darkest moments. He is the one who put his pride, ego, and company before me. above *us*. I force the lump in my throat to go away with a sharp exhale. It’s over. My heart is breaking again, but this time it's for a different reason. Something more powerful. I'm no longer drowning in regret or desire as the burden I've carried for so long is being lifted. Only finality remains. The familiar, steady sound of Nathaniel's approach can be heard in the hallway. My heart beats frantically in my chest, echoing the chaos of my feelings. My body is tense with anticipation as I freeze and hold my breath. I can tell it's him without turning around. He has always been the one. His footsteps get closer and louder until the door behind me creaks open. I stay put. I'd prefer not to. Then I sense him, like a shadow sweeping across the room. My back bears the weight of him and the warmth of his eyes. I slowly look up from the papers and finally look him in the eyes. Although his face is unreadable, there is a hint of something there, possibly regret or a dark, eerie sadness. Whichever it is, I can no longer bring myself to care. His voice is heavy with something unsaid as he opens his mouth to speak, but I stop him. I blurt out, "I'm leaving, Nate," as if it were a confession. They seem oddly definitive, as if I'm confessing to something I've always known. I'm not hesitant or ashamed. "I'm finished." The muscles in his neck flex as his jaw tightens. A glimmer of panic appears in his eyes, but it is overshadowed by a thousand disagreements and ill-advised excuses. I don't feel the desperation, but it's there. No longer. "Please, Helene—" His tone is low, with the well-known hint of control returning, as though he's trying to convince me once more that I have heard this plea in every possible way. I interrupt, my voice piercing the dense atmosphere between us, "You're too late." I feel my chest tighten, but I'm determined. "Nate, I've been waiting for you for a very long time. I made an effort. Yes, I did. However, you allowed me to elude you, and now It's my turn to go now. For good. As soon as I say the words, I get a rush of pride, satisfaction, and possibly even relief. When was the last time I spoke so honestly and plainly? Something I can't understand causes his eyes to darken and his face to tighten. However, there isn't any rage there. Don't be angry. He seems to have accepted the fact that this moment was unavoidable and that it has now arrived. He approaches me with a desperate hand that seems to be reaching for something that is slipping out of his grasp. A lifeline. However, I no longer require him. I am self-sufficient. "Don't, Helene," he says in a shaky voice. "This is something we can resolve. Just give me another chance, please. I promise— "*No,*" I interrupt him with a firm statement. I sound stronger and more steady than ever before. I feel as though the words are a barrier separating me from him and his deceptive entreaties. "You've had enough opportunities." After examining the papers for a while, I look directly into his eyes once more. "They are signed by me. It's finished. My heart tightens, but I force myself to hold back the tears. Not right now. Not when I know deep down that what I'm doing is right. Not when I know that I've been waiting for this moment to regain control over my life. Nathaniel remains motionless for a considerable amount of time. He looks into my eyes as if seeking something, perhaps a glimmer of mercy or a clue that I might reconsider. However, he fails to locate it. I can hardly breathe as the oppressive silence between us presses against my chest. However, I am no longer the one suffocating. It's him. He utters the barely audible words, "I won't fight you on this." His voice sounds different, as if years of unspoken regrets and lies have worn it thin. "But Helene, you must know something." I don't respond. I'm not even nodding. I simply wait. I've had enough of him. This chapter of my life is over. "I *regret* it," he mumbles, his voice trailing off, the words barely audible above a whisper. "I'm sorry for everything." Deep in my chest, I feel a sharp pain, but it's not the aching sadness I'm accustomed to. It's something different, something liberating. I've come to the conclusion that I can move on without his regret. I don't need his excuses to make me feel better. I've clung to the hope that he would change for far too long. However, I now understand that I needed this change, this moment. The change I've been looking for. "I understand," I answer in a flat, emotionless voice. "But that is no longer sufficient." Then, without hesitation, I turn to face the door. Every step feels heavy with the weight of finality, as if I'm moving slowly. But my movements are self-assured and unwavering. With a gentle creak, the door opens, and the crisp, cool air from outside feels sharp and refreshing against my skin. I feel alive for the first time in a long time. I feel *liberated*. Just once do I look back. He's still standing there, seemingly reaching for me with his hand resting on the doorframe. I don't wait, though. I no longer require his support. I'm leaving this house. I'm leaving this life. And I am certain that I will not return this time.