Chapter 9
1056 Words
The envelope was thin and plain.
Too plain for the kind of storm it was supposed to carry.
It arrived mid-morning, no fanfare or warning in place.
Just a soft knock on Clarissa’s apartment door and a courier’s voice saying, “Delivery for Mr. Nathan Hart.”
Nathan looked up from his phone, frowning. Clarissa sauntered over in a silk robe, barely paying attention.
“Who sends paper anymore?” she muttered, plucking the envelope from the courier’s hand before Nathan could get to it.
The moment she saw the content, her smirk dropped.
Elena.
She passed it to Nathan without a word.
He opened it slowly, peeling back the flap like he already knew what waited inside.
There it was.
The divorce papers, signed finally.
No note.
No hesitation. Just her signature which was clean and sharp.
“She actually did it,” Nathan said, his voice caught somewhere between disbelief and satisfaction.
Clarissa tilted her head. “Well good, right? This is what we wanted.”
He didn’t answer. His eyes stayed on the page.
There were no extra scribbles.
No bitter words. No last-minute pleas.
Just Elena’s name, like a full stop at the end of everything they used to be.
Clarissa leaned against the table, watching him. “Nathan?”
He finally looked up. “It feels…”
“Liberating?”
He hesitated. “Cold.”
Clarissa’s lips parted in surprise. “You’re not seriously…”
“I’m not regretting it,” he snapped. “I just didn’t think she’d let go this easily.”
Clarissa crossed her arms. “You thought she’d beg?”
“I thought…” He trailed off, frustrated. “I don’t know what I thought.”
“She’s not begging,” Clarissa said. “She’s done. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
Nathan ran a hand through his hair, staring at the paper like it had personally insulted him.
It wasn’t what Elena said that bothered him.
It was what she didn’t.
No tears. No resistance. No message.
Just her signature. It felt like she was wiping them clean from her memory.
Clarissa noticed the shift in his expression and moved closer, softening her tone.
“She’s sick, Nathan and she chose to disappear quietly. That’s all this is.”
But Nathan wasn’t listening.
For the first time, he realized something.
Elena hadn’t broken.
She had disappeared with dignity.
*Elena's POV — Backwood estate, late Afternoon*
The sun hung low in the sky as Elena stood near the glass doors of the sitting room, watching the garden sway in the breeze.
She hadn't felt this kind of silence in a long time, the kind that didn’t ache or haunt.
Nolan, Damian’s assistant, had just left after handing her a simple message
“Your documents were delivered. It’s final now.”
She nodded, said thank you, and closed the door gently.
There was no overwhelming rush of emotion.
No tears.
No regret.
Just a quiet kind of peace.
The kind that came when you finally stopped chasing closure and choose your own.
Elena turned her attention back to the room. The estate had begun to feel a little less like a fortress and a little more like a place that held room for breath.
Not a home yet but something.
A soft knock pulled her from her thoughts.
It was Beatrice, wheeled in gently by the housekeeper, a wool shawl draped over her shoulders.
“May I come in?” the older woman asked, though she was already inside.
Elena smiled faintly. “You’re always welcome.”
Beatrice nodded toward the empty seat beside her. “You sent them, didn’t you?”
Elena sat. “I did.”
Beatrice said nothing for a while, just looked out the same window Elena had been staring through.
“How do you feel?” she asked softly.
“Like a book page turned quietly,” Elena replied.
Beatrice nodded. “The loudest endings are usually the messiest but the quiet ones? They’re the most dangerous.”
Elena gave a soft laugh. “I don't think I'm all that.”
Beatrice chuckled. “You are. Women like you don’t crumble, you evolve.”
They shared a moment of stillness, two women from different generations who somehow understood each other without saying too much.
“You’ve got strength, Elena. It isn't loud but it settles deep. That’s the kind that lasts,” Beatrice added, her voice warm.
Elena looked at her. “Thank you for believing in me.”
Beatrice reached out and took her hand. “Someone has to and eventually, you will too.”
*Damian's POV — Evening*
Damian sat behind his desk, reading over a set of emails. The final confirmation had come in, the divorce papers were filed. Everything was legally handled.
Elena hadn’t asked him for help.
She hadn’t leaned on him.
She hadn’t even informed him herself.
He admired that.
And yet her silence unsettled him.
Not because he expected emotion but because he felt that way and he didn’t know why.
“She’s handling this better than most CEO’s I’ve negotiated with,” Leo had joked earlier on the phone.
But Damian hadn’t laughed.
He stood and walked to the window, arms folded, staring out into the evening light.
A woman like Elena who had been hurt, scarred and betrayed, had no reason to rise with grace.
But she did.
And it made him wonder what else she was capable of.
*Elsewhere — Clarissa's Apartment, same time*
Clarissa poured herself a glass of wine, watching Nathan pace the living room like a man chasing ghosts.
The signed divorce papers still sat on the counter, untouched since morning.
She should’ve felt victorious.
But instead she felt uneasy.
Something about Elena’s silence feels off.
It wasn't a defeat.
Clarissa picked up her phone and opened a contact she hadn’t messaged in months. A man who owed her a favor in the legal field. Someone good at digging things up.
“Need info on Elena Hart… I mean Elena Morgan. Where she is staying and who she is seeing. Anything you can find.”
She paused, then added
“Let me know what you find quietly.”
If Elena thought she could vanish into the shadows with her pride intact, she was wrong.
She wasn’t done with her yet.
- Writer
