“Don’t think too much about it,” Ryle assured, pushing the divorce agreement toward me. “Atlas has already signed,”
My heart sank into my chest, I reached for the documents and his signature was there, scribbled.
It was funny, all this time, I wanted him to divorce me, and today, when I wasn’t sure if I could bear another moment away from him — Atlas Volkan was walking away.
“Julia,” Ryle snapped me back to reality, “Everyone is waiting downstairs. Wear the dress and look pretty. This is for your kids, remember?”
Tears blurred my vision. Ryle had repeated the same thing over and over again. He knew the exact strings to pull and if every fiber of my being refused — I was getting married today.
And the groom? It wasn’t Atlas.
“Come on,” he pushed my hand toward the document. I swa
