The gala shimmered with gold and crystall Denver was already in the venue with Patricia, talking business with investors.
By the time the clock struck ten, Alicia hadn’t shown yet. Denver started to feel uneasy. He asked a server if they’d seen her arrive. The answer was no. He asked a guard, a valet, a coordinator. All shook their heads.
That was impossible. He called again. No answer. The ringing went straight to voicemail.
A sinking feeling hit the pit of his stomach. This wasn’t like Alicia. She always responded. Was she still mad?
Then, just as he was about to call her again, his butler approached him, expression unreadable. “Sir,” he said, offering a long, rectangular box wrapped in ivory paper. “This was delivered just now. For you
Denver raised an eyebrow and took it.
The paper came off slowly, his fingers twitching. Inside the box… were two things. A folded stack of official documents. And her wedding ring.
He pulled out the papers, hands trembling now, and his eyes scanned the words–DIVORCE AGREEMENT–signed, sealed, filed.
Denver stood frozen, the divorce paper clutched tightly in his shaking hands. His mind reeled, as if every word on the page were written in a foreign language, as if the signature at the bottom didn’t belong to his wife. But it did. Alicia’s name. Her real, determined handwriting—final, and
firm.
The wedding ring tumbled out of the box and landed with a hollow metallic clink on the marble floor. He blinked, as if waking from a dream.
“No…” he muttered to himself, fumbling for his phone. His hands trembled as he scrolled to her contact. The screen blurred for a second–either from the adrenaline or the emotions clawing up
his throat.
He dialed. Once. Twice. Three times. No answer.
He tried again. Left a voicemail. Texted.
Denver: Alicia. What kind of stunt is this?
Denver: This isn’t funny. Call me back now.
Denver: Where are you?
Still nothing.
Across the ballroom, Patricia noticed his rigid posture, the flicker of panic in his usually unreadable eyes. She walked over, a glass of champagne in one hand, her signature smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
“What’s going on?” she asked, voice silky. “You look like someone died.”
Denver didn’t answer, just shoved the open box toward her.
Patricia’s gaze fell to the ring first–then the papers. Divorce.
Charter 6
213 22.7%
2:55 pm
And just like that, a flutter of glee tickled her chest. She almost gasped. She had dreamed of this moment for months–years even–ever since Alicia returned to claim what was “rightfully hers.” Ever since Alicia came back and stole the man Patricia believed was meant for her.
“She finally left,” Patricia whispered, eyes wide with mock concern. “Oh, poor thing. Maybe she just needs some time.”
Denver gritted his teeth. “She filed for divorce, Patricia. She signed it.”
Patricia tried to feign sympathy, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Come on, this isn’t the first time she acted out, remember? What about that time she stormed off after she caught you with me in the study? She was always too emotional–jealous for no reason. She’ll come back.” “No,” Denver said, voice low, eyes still glued to the documents. “This is different.”
Patricia’s jaw tensed, her smile slipping for a second. But she quickly recovered. “So what? Let her go, then. She doesn’t love you. Not like I do.” She leaned in, pressing her body slightly closer. “Maybe this is fate, Denver. Maybe we’re finally free to be together.”
Before he could react, a new voice cut through the air.
“What’s going on here?”
It was Paula. Regal in her evening gown, lips painted red, her eyes scanned the scene with a sharpness that never missed a thing. Her gaze landed on the paper in Denver’s hands.
She stepped closer and snatched it. Her face paled.
“What the hell is this?” she barked. “You’re getting a divorce?”
Denver didn’t speak. Couldn’t.
Patricia stepped in smoothly. “I think it’s a good thing, mom. Let’s be honest, they were never truly happy. Maybe they’re better apart. Maybe Denver and I-”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Paula snapped, cutting her off. “Our family does not tolerate divorce. It’s disgraceful. Do you know what this will look like to the board? To the press? To our investors? | may have hated that child, but she is my real daughter!”
Denver’s voice finally emerged, hoarse and bitter. “She filed it. Not me.”
“Well, fix it,” Paula hissed. “Call her. Do whatever it takes. I don’t care what you have to do–settle it before the press finds out.”
But Patricia was already rolling her eyes. “Why are you all acting like she matters? Alicia’s just a name on paper. She’s maybe not a real Monteto, but she didn’t grow up in this world. She’s not one of us.”
That was the last straw.
Denver turned sharply and shoved her aside, hard enough that she stumbled a step backward. “Don’t talk about her like that,” he growled.
Patricia blinked, stunned. “Denver–what are you saying? Isn’t this what we both wanted? You told me that you wanted divorce and now she’s handing–wait!”
But he didn’t respond. He was already walking away.
Every step was heavy. Every breath was ragged.
In his mind, her face appeared again–Alicia. Her voice. Her smile. The way she looked at him
2:55 pm DDD
before all this–before he broke her beyond repair.
He thought she would always be there.
That she would forgive him, like she always did.
That she was too poor, too weak, too dependent to ever leave.
But now–now she was gone.
And all that remained was a ring and a signature.
She didn’t even say goodbye.
As he stepped out into the cold night, Denver didn’t care about the gala anymore. He didn’t care
about the Montero reputation. About Patricia. About the investors.
No. There was only one thought racing through his mind like wildfire.
“I’m bringing her back. She doesn’t get to leave me. Not like this.”
