Chapter 5

On the third night, a commotion suddenly broke out outside the storage room, footsteps, shouting, and a woman's weeping. I sat with my back against the wall, listening to what was happening out there.

"Simon, please let me see her," Sylvia sobbed. "I know she hates me, but I didn't mean it. Losing the baby hurt me too. I just want to apologize. Please, Simon."

Then Simon's voice rang out, sounding impatient. "Sylvia, you haven't recovered yet. Don't go running around. I'm taking you back to the hospital. She's emotionally unstable right now. Seeing you will only upset her more."

Sylvia started crying even louder. "But I heard she transferred all the company's money? Simon, that money is really important to the company, isn't it? It's all my fault. If it weren't for me, Cecilia wouldn't hate you so much."

Listening to her words, the corner of my mouth curled into a bitter, ironic smile. Too bad I wasn't interested in watching her acting anymore.

Outside, Simon comforted her. "It's not your fault. She's just being too willful. But it's fine, I'll find a way to get the money back. Don't worry."

Sylvia sniffled, "Simon, what if I go and beg her? I'll apologize to her and beg her to return the money. The company can't afford any trouble. That company is your life's work."

Simon was silent for a moment, then said, "Forget it. She's furious right now. If you go, it'll only make her angrier. I'll talk to her once she's calmed down."

Sylvia was about to say something else when suddenly, an unfamiliar voice rang out.

"Mr. Moran." It was a man's voice, somewhat familiar. I listened carefully, trying to place it. Then I remembered. It was Desmond. What was he doing here?

"Who are you?" Simon asked.

"I'm Cecilia's lawyer, Desmond," he replied.

Desmond's voice was calm. "Mr. Moran, I'm here to deliver a document to Ms. Snyder."

"What document?" Simon's voice turned wary.

"Divorce papers," Desmond said. "Ms. Snyder has instructed me to draft them. Please sign."

Outside, there was dead silence. Several seconds passed before Simon spoke again, his voice low and menacing. "What did you say?"

"Divorce papers," Desmond repeated. "Ms. Snyder said that your marriage has reached its end. She hopes for an amicable separation.

"The terms are clearly stated. Ms. Snyder does not want any of the joint assets. She is only taking what belongs to her, the 100 million her father left her before the marriage, and Serenity Garden, nothing else."

Listening to Desmond's words, I closed my eyes. A wave of warmth rose in my chest.

"No way." Simon's voice suddenly shot up. "I'm not signing anything. There's no way she's divorcing me."

Desmond's voice remained calm. "Mr. Moran, marriage freedom is a fundamental right. Ms. Snyder has the right to choose divorce. If you do not consent, she can file for divorce in court.

"If it goes to court, it won't do your reputation any favors. After all, there is medical proof that you had an affair and got your mistress pregnant. If that becomes public, the Moran Group's stock price—"

"Are you threatening me?" Simon cut him off, fury boiling in his voice.

Desmond didn't waver. "I'm merely stating facts. Mr. Moran, you're an intelligent man. You should know which choice benefits you most."

Another silence fell outside. Sylvia spoke softly, "Simon, maybe you should talk to Cecilia properly? She might just be acting on impulse. Once she calms down, she won't follow through with this."

Simon ignored her and said to Desmond, "You have her come out and tell me herself. I need to hear her say she wants a divorce with her own mouth. Otherwise, I'm not signing anything."

Desmond said, "Mr. Moran, Ms. Snyder is not in a position to see you right now."

"Not in a position?" Simon laughed coldly. "She's right inside that door. Why can't she come out? Tell her to come out."

With that, he walked to the door and started pounding on it. "Cecilia, get out of here. You have the nerve to send your lawyer but not to tell me yourself?"

I sat against the wall, listening to his shouting. A smile tugged at my lips. Calmly, I took out my phone and sent Desmond a message: [Tell him I'll talk to him in person tomorrow. For now, tell him to be quiet.]

Desmond's phone buzzed. He glanced at it, then said to Simon, "Mr. Moran, Ms. Snyder says she'll come out to speak with you tomorrow. Tonight, please go back and get some rest."

Simon laughed coldly, "She's my wife. If I tell her to come out, she comes out. She doesn't get to negotiate."

Desmond looked at him, a hint of contempt in his eyes. "Mr. Moran, Ms. Snyder is your wife, yes. But she is not your prisoner.

"You've locked her in a storage room for three days and three nights with no water and no food. That constitutes false imprisonment and abuse. If Ms. Snyder calls the police, you will face legal consequences.

"Right now, she's only asking for a divorce. That's already merciful. You'd do well to know what's good for you."

Simon's expression darkened. He glared at Desmond. "How dare you speak to me like that?"

Desmond straightened his suit jacket. "I am Ms. Snyder's lawyer and her friend. Mr. Moran, I'll say it again. Please sign. It's the best choice for everyone." With that, he held out the documents.

Simon stared at the papers, his face dark and menacing. Sylvia whispered beside him, "Simon, maybe you should at least take a look? It might not be that bad."

Simon shoved the documents away. "Get out. All of you, get out."

The papers fell to the floor. Desmond bent down, picked them up, and brushed them off. "Mr. Moran, think it over. I'll be here until tomorrow. If you change your mind, you can sign anytime." Then he turned and walked away.

Sylvia tried to say something else, but Simon cut her off coldly. "You too. Leave. I need some time alone."

Sylvia froze, her voice wavering. "Simon..."

"I said leave," Simon roared. Sylvia flinched, stepping back, then ran off crying.

Outside, only Simon remained. I listened to his breathing, heavy, rapid, like an enraged beast.

After a long silence, he sat down on the other side of the door, leaning against it. His voice was low. "Cecilia, do you really want to divorce me?"

I didn't answer. He continued, "You think you'll be better off without me? Cecilia, you're nothing. Without being Mrs. Moran, you're nothing."

I closed my eyes, the smile on my lips turning colder. He was wrong. Without the title of Mrs. Moran, I could finally be myself, finally truly live.