Lyla Monroe (Nova Kingsley)
Now that my father is gone, there’s no reason for Luca and I to stay married.
The contract, the obligation, the silent agreement—it all started because of him.
And with him gone, I had to face the truth: Luca doesn’t love me. Not in the way I want to be loved.
Even if… even if some part of me might love him.
That’s why I sat in my lawyer’s office today, legs crossed, papers trembling in my hands, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.
“I need you to draft divorce papers,” I said. My voice didn’t shake. I made sure of it.
My lawyer, a calm older man named Davis who had known my family for years, tilted his head. “Are you absolutely sure, Miss Kingsley? Your father—”
“My father isn’t here anymore,” I cut in, more sharply than intended. “And he was the only reason this arrangement was necessary. I want Luca to be free to find whoever it is he wants. And I want that chance too.”
Davis leaned back in his chair, nodding. “If that’s what you want. I’ll draw up the documents immediately.”
I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek. “Thank you.”
As I left his office, the air outside felt cold even though the sun was out. Something about walking away from Luca—even if only on paper—felt like slicing into my own heart.
Because even though I believe a piece of my heart belongs to him… that doesn’t mean his heart belongs to me.
And that’s not love. Love is mutual. Love chooses you. Love stays. I wanted to be chosen. I deserved to be chosen.
And if he couldn’t do that, then I’d set him free.
I returned to the apartment alone, my heels echoing through the quiet space. Luca wasn’t home. I headed straight to my bedroom, opened the first drawer of my nightstand, and carefully placed the sealed envelope inside. The papers were ready. When the time was right, I’d hand them to him.
But I wasn’t going to end things bitterly. I still respected him, still cared. So I did what I always used to do—I stopped at his favorite café, ordered his regular iced black coffee with no sugar, and took it to the office.
It was a simple peace offering.
Closure, maybe.
I took the elevator up, heart beating harder than it should’ve. My hand tightened around the coffee cup.
It’s just Luca.
I pushed open his office door.
And then I stopped dead in my tracks.
Penny.
On his lap.
Or rather—trying to get on his lap. She was leaning in, her chest practically pressed against his, eyes fluttering like she was in some rom-com fantasy. Her hands were on his shoulders, lips puckered slightly as she said something I couldn’t even hear because all I saw was red.
And Luca—he looked caught. Frozen. His eyes met mine instantly, and something like guilt flashed across his face.
But my gaze was already fixed on her.
The cup of coffee in my hand shook slightly, but I didn’t drop it. I didn’t yell or scream or throw something.
I took one step forward.
Then another.
And with a voice sharp enough to slice the tension in half, I said—
“Get the fuck off my husband. You’re fired.”
Penny scrambled like a rat caught in the act, stumbling off of him so fast she nearly tripped on her heels. “I—I didn’t—”
“Out,” I snapped. “Now.”
She looked at Luca, then at me, and then back at Luca like she expected him to defend her. He didn’t say a word.
Smart man.
She grabbed her purse and fled the room, and the moment the door clicked shut, I finally exhaled.
I turned to him, still holding his coffee. “Here. I brought this for you. Because I was trying to be nice.”
He looked down at the cup, then back at me. “Nova—”
“Don’t,” I said, my voice shaking now, but I kept standing tall. “Don’t explain. Don’t say anything. I’m not mad because of her. I’m mad because even now, after everything, you still don’t see me.”
He looked like he wanted to speak again, but I shook my head.
“I put something in the drawer in my room,” I said. “It’s yours to sign or ignore. It’s your choice now.”
And with that, I turned around and walked out of his office—without looking back.
