Chapter 2
"Mrs. Dalton," Micheal said, pushing up his gold-rimmed glasses and handing me a file folder in a businesslike manner. "This is the divorce agreement Mr. Dalton asked me to bring you. Please take a look. If everything is in order, you can sign it."
"No problem at all," I said, snatching up the agreement eagerly. I didn't even bother to read it and just flipped right to the last page.
Micheal looked genuinely surprised by how decisive I was. He paused, then reminded me, "Mrs. Dalton, are you sure you don't want to check the terms? Especially the section about splitting assets."
"No need," I replied, picking up the pen and signing my name with a dramatic flourish. "I trust Mr. Dalton's character and your professionalism, Micheal."
Micheal's expression turned a bit odd, like he wanted to say something, but in the end, he just kept quiet.
Once I finished signing, I handed the agreement back to him and asked, "Micheal, when will the money hit my account?"
That was the real question.
"Mr. Dalton said it'll be in your account within an hour after you sign," Micheal replied.
"Great," I said, nodding in satisfaction. Then I made a polite gesture toward the door. "I won't see you out. I've got a flight to catch."
A flicker of pure shock flashed behind Micheal's glasses.
He probably expected me to cry, throw a fit, cling desperately, or scream at him demanding to know why.
Too bad for him, he couldn't have been more wrong.
All I cared about was cashing in and kicking off my new life as a wealthy queen.
I closed the door behind me, grabbed my suitcase, and walked out of this prison that had held me captive for a year without a single backward glance.
Branson, the Dalton family, I hoped we never met again.
An hour later, my phone lit up with a bank text alert.
Seeing that long string of zeros, I grinned with pure happiness.
Never before had it hit me so clearly. Money really was a wonderful thing.
It could make all the pain go away and bring an unmatched sense of security.
Instead of heading straight to the airport, I made a beeline for the city's most exclusive luxury complex, Silverwood Manor.
"Hello, miss. Do you have an appointment?" the saleswoman asked, giving me a quick, almost imperceptible once-over as she noticed my suitcase.
"No," I said, shaking my head. "I want to buy your best penthouse—cash."
Her fake sales smile dropped instantly.
I skipped the pleasantries and whipped out my phone, flashing my bank balance at her.
The next second, her attitude did a complete 180.
"Right this way, ma'am! The best unit in Silverwood Manor is our penthouse on the top floor, with 360-degree panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows, a private pool, and a rooftop garden..."
Half an hour later, just like that, I bought the 25-million-dollar penthouse.
I moved in right away, suitcase in hand.
Standing by the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, looking down at the bustling city below, I let out a contented sigh.
Freedom never felt so good.
Gently caressing my still-flat stomach, I whispered, "Little ones, do you like our new home?"
Once I was settled in, the first thing I did was call my mom.
The phone barely rang once before she picked up, her voice full with energy. "Bryanna, you ungrateful child, finally remembered your mom, huh?
"How's it been living with the Daltons? Branson hasn't been bullying you, has he? Your mother-in-law and Paloma haven't been giving you any trouble, right?"
Her barrage of questions made my nose prickle and my eyes sting with sudden tears.
"Mom..." I managed, my voice trembling with a hint of a sob.
"What happened? Who bullied you? Just wait, I will come over right now!" she burst out.
"No, Mom," I hurried to reassure her. "I just missed you."
I took a deep breath, steadied myself, and then dropped the bombshell. "Mom, I'm divorced."
The line went dead silent.
It lasted a whole thirty seconds.
I could just imagine the stunned look on Mom's face right now.
"Divorced?" Mom's voice shot up an octave. "That punk—who does he think he is, dumping you like that? Is he cheating? He thinks he can just toss you aside?"
"Mom, I was the one who wanted out," I fibbed, hoping she'd worry less. "It just wasn't right for me. Better to rip off the band-aid than let it drag on."
"That's the spirit!" Mom switched gears in a heartbeat, her voice dripping with both concern and outrage. "Didn't I warn you? That family has zero warmth, and Branson's basically a walking ice cube.
"You were always gonna get the short end of the stick marrying into the Daltons! But did you listen? Nope! Now look where it got you!"
"Okay, I admit it, Mom," I replied obediently.
"Where are you right now? Come home, now! I'll have your dad come pick you up!" Mom insisted.
"Mom, really, I'm okay. I just bought myself a new place at Silverwood Manor," I reassured her.