Mr Grey, I want a divorce

002. An Unexpected Visit

For three whole days, I hadn’t received a single message from my so-called husband. I had sent that message, I want a divorce, and he had read it. Yet he didn’t bother to reply. At the very least, he could have thanked me for releasing him from the bandage called marriage. But I was sure he was too busy being happy, celebrating with his other wife. The thought made my stomach churn, and I found myself gripping my phone like it was the last lifeline I had in the world.

“Wow, I can’t believe your good-looking, rich husband has another wife. Well, I did say so. Someone as wealthy as that always has multiple women,” my best friend, Lisa, said as she dropped onto the couch. She handed me a can of drink, and I accepted it, letting the cold metal chill my palm while I scrolled through my phone with dull eyes.

I checked his social media again. No sign of him. No sign of his other wife either. He had never posted me, not once. He only ever posted himself, and thanks to those daily posts, I hadn’t even known how he truly looked in real life anymore. It made me feel strangely hollow, as if I had been erased from the world that I once shared with him.

Lisa tapping my shoulder was what finally made me stop scrolling. I looked at her, her eyes sharp, almost impatient.

“What happened?”

“Girl, you’ve been silent since you dropped the bomb that your husband is married. So… how do you feel about this?”

“What do you want me to say? That I wasted seven years of my life married to someone who doesn’t even love me or make love to me?” I said lazily, my voice drained and heavy. My hand still rested on the phone as if it could provide me some comfort.

“Well, those seven years were worth it. I mean, look at you. You live in a goddamn mansion that looks like a five-star luxury hotel. Marble floors, glass walls, a huge pool, luxury cars. He’s so f*****g rich that every corner of that house reeks of money. Don’t tell me you want to throw all that away because of some side dish,” Lisa said, her voice loud, almost barking, as if that could shake me into agreement.

I stared at her in disbelief, my jaw tightening.

“What do you mean by that, bestie?”

“What I mean is, you’re the first wife. You were there first. Claim what’s yours. Fight for your husband. Just pretend you don’t know anything about his second side piece.”

“Lisa, my husband is married to someone he loves. He gives her his attention, something I’ve craved every single day, and you’re telling me to pretend I don’t know about his other wife? Are you being serious?” I snapped, my chest tightening as heat rose to my cheeks.

“First of all, don’t raise your voice at me. I’m not the one who got married to a billionaire and couldn’t make him fall in love with me.”

Lisa always had venom in her words.

“If I were in your shoes, I wouldn’t mind my husband having other women. Men are meant to cheat; it’s in their DNA. But the one you have? He’s a f*****g billionaire. A billionaire tycoon girls out there are dying for. They’ll do anything to have that kind of man. Honestly, if I could be his third wife, I’d fight my way in. As long as he spoils me with his riches, I’d turn a blind eye.”

I had always known Lisa had eyes on Kai. She never hid it; she said it openly. So it wasn’t surprising to hear this. And the only reason she was defending my cheating husband was because she benefited from his wealth. The gifts. The vacations. The parties. Even this apartment we were sitting in was a gift Kai had bought for me on one of my birthdays.

I decided to tell her before she heard it from someone else. My voice was quiet but resolute.

“Lisa, maybe that spot will be open, because I’m getting a divorce.”

“Are you insane?”

“No. I already sent him a message telling him I want a divorce. And as my best friend and lawyer, you’re going to process my divorce papers.”

She stared at me like I had lost my mind. Her eyes widened, and I could see the disbelief ripple through her features.

“You must be very stupid. In fact, I don’t even have a best friend. You’re not my best friend,” she said, standing up and pacing the living room. Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor, each step sharp, echoing. “This can’t be happening. I was planning to use your jet to fly to Vegas this weekend, and you didn’t even think twice before sending that message. You never think about me before making decisions like this.”

“Lisa, come on. It’s my life. I can do whatever I want.”

“Your life? Babe, it’s our lives. Not just you, your parents, your brothers. How do you think they’ll feel when they find out their daughter has ruined our future?”

That again. That was another reason I stayed in that marriage.

My marriage had cleared my father’s debts, sponsored his company, opened my mother’s fashion business, and paid for my brothers’ college tuition. Everyone benefited, but not me. I didn’t want a luxury mansion, the latest car models, private vacations, or flashy gifts.

I just wanted a husband who loved me. Someone to go on vacations with. Someone to spend time with. Someone I could see every night and every morning.

I thought Malachai Grey was going to be that person.

But that was just a fairy tale.

I finally left Lisa’s apartment after she angrily kicked me out. The crisp night air hit my face as I walked to my car, the tension from our argument still buzzing in my chest. Now, I was home, in the garage.

The moment I stepped out of my car, I noticed an additional vehicle parked among the others. It was impossible to miss because it stood out and because it was parked in my usual spot. A Rolls-Royce Boat Tail, sleek and perfectly positioned. I paused, my hand lingering on the car door, brow furrowed. Did he send another car or something?

As soon as I entered the house, the scent of flowers filled the air. Roses. Lilies. The fragrance was so strong that it made my chest tighten, almost stopping me in my tracks. I stepped farther inside, feeling the familiar chill of the marble floor beneath my feet, only to realize the entire living room was dark, as if someone had deliberately turned off the lights.

I hesitated, hand midair, then clapped twice.

The lights came on.

And there he was.

Someone I hadn’t seen in ages sat on the couch like a king, one arm resting lazily against the backrest, legs crossed with effortless confidence. Mr. Grey. In his hand was a bouquet of flowers, his sharp gaze fixed on me, unreadable and intense. My heart raced, my palms became clammy. Every instinct screamed at me to step back, yet I couldn’t move.

“What the hell is wrong with you, Mrs. Grey?”