Chapter 3

"Okay," I answered.

"We're expecting guests tonight. Make sure everything's ready," Andrew added.

"Okay," I replied.

He stood up, grabbed his coat, and was about to head out.

I called out to him, "Andrew."

He stopped and turned around.

Maybe because I rarely ever called him by his name myself, he raised his brows a bit.

"There are a few documents that need your signature," I said, sliding a folder over to him. "The insurance change form from last time, and some paperwork for the property."

He took it, didn't bother to look through it, and signed right where the sticky notes marked the spots.

His pen flew across the paper, leaving three signatures in a row. On the last line of the third page, he wrote Party A's signature: Andrew Palmer.

It was a divorce agreement.

He handed the folder back to me and grabbed his car keys. "I'm leaving," he said.

"Okay," I replied.

The door closed behind him.

I looked down at his signature. His handwriting was clean and confident, just like always. He didn't realize what he'd signed.

My fingers tightened around the folder, my knuckles turning white. Then I took a deep breath and slipped the folder into my bag.

I still had to go to the county court today.

Hold on, that's not right.

Both of us had to show up for an uncontested divorce.

I shut my eyes for a second.

It was okay. I'd still have other options.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. "Mason, you can file the divorce papers now," I said.

His voice was steady on the other end. "Ms. Sinclair, are you sure about this?"

"I've been thinking about it for three years," I replied.

"Alright. Once we file, there's a response period. If he doesn't show up, the court can issue a default judgment," Mason said.

"He won't show up," I said.

I was certain. He hadn't even bothered to look at the divorce agreement I handed him. So why would he care about a court summons?

Life went on as usual.

By day, I handled the chores, attended the events I was supposed to, smiled when expected, and stayed quiet when it was better to remain silent.

A court notice was addressed to Andrew Palmer.

His assistant, Serein Scott, handled his personal affairs and probably tossed the letter into a pile of other unimportant matters.

I knew about it because Serein had come over to check with me. "Mrs. Palmer, there's a court letter for Mr. Palmer. Do you know what it's about? Should I let him know?"

I happened to be polishing a vase in the living room at the time. I turned it a bit and said slowly, "It's a minor issue with the property management. It's already been taken care of. No need to tell him. He doesn't need the extra stress."

Serein hesitated for a moment. "Alright," he said.

Andrew didn't show up for the hearing. He skipped the mediation, too. The judge looked at me and asked, "Are you sure the defendant isn't coming?"

I nodded.

"Alright. The court will proceed with the trial in absentia," the judge announced.

From start to finish, Andrew had no idea he'd been sued.

He had no clue his marriage had come to an end.

He didn't realize that the agreement he'd signed, together with the court's ruling, had cut the final tie between us.

The day the judgment came down, I stood outside the courthouse, clutching the paper. The sun shone, but the November wind cut sharply, stinging my eyes.

I didn't cry. I hadn't cried in three years. I wasn't about to start now.

When I got back to the Palmer villa, I started packing, though there wasn't much to pack.

There was barely anything here that really belonged to me. Just a few seasonal clothes, an old laptop, a dried-up pot of mint on the balcony, and the silver bracelet I'd brought from my family home.

Did Andrew ever give me anything?

I thought about it. Yeah, he did.

On my birthday during our first year of marriage, his assistant bought me a necklace on his behalf. It was a classic Cartier piece, the kind every guy picks when he has no clue what to buy.

The card was still tucked in the box. I had never worn the necklace. I left it on the dressing table, along with the wedding ring.

One suitcase and a backpack. That was all I had to show for three years of marriage.

As I closed the door, I glanced back one last time.

The sofa, coffee table, and entertainment center in the living room were all arranged by me.