**Chapter 5**
The atmosphere in the room was thick with disbelief, a palpable tension that seemed to wrap around us like a suffocating blanket. Peyton Kennedy’s eyes flickered to the divorce papers I had placed deliberately in front of Thomas Scott. For a brief moment, I caught a glimmer of triumph in his gaze, a flicker of delight that quickly vanished as he masked his reaction, opting instead for silence.
Thomas, on the other hand, was a tempest of emotions. His face transformed, the turmoil within him evident as he finally unleashed his pent-up frustration.
“Riley, what the hell is this?” he barked, his voice a mix of confusion and anger.
I calmly turned the document to reveal the last page, my finger hovering over the signature line. A smile crept across my lips, a mixture of satisfaction and defiance.
“How do you like my birthday gift? An early congratulations to you two. A second chance at a happily ever after.”
“Thomas, don’t you want to give him this gift?” I added, my tone dripping with sarcasm, knowing full well the weight of my words.
We had journeyed from being high school sweethearts to this moment, seven long years of shared dreams and shattered illusions. I had endured so much during that time.
In that instant, an enormous burden lifted from my shoulders, and I exhaled deeply, feeling lighter than I had in years.
“You bitch!”
His words cut through the tension like a knife, and that was the final straw. All pretense of civility vanished as he lunged at me, his eyes wild with rage. I could see the fury boiling beneath his skin, ready to erupt.
But I was no fragile damsel. Standing at five-foot-nine, I refused to be intimidated. I seized his flailing wrist with both hands, my grip firm, and spoke with deliberate clarity.
“Don’t you dare lay a hand on me. Just sign it.”
His teeth ground together, the fire in his eyes burning brighter as he struggled against my hold.
“Why? I told you it was a misunderstanding! Why won’t you listen to my explanation?” he spat, desperation creeping into his voice.
I let out a chilling laugh, a sound devoid of warmth as I shoved his hand away.
“I don’t want to hear your explanation. I have eyes. I saw everything. Are you really going to try and spin what you just did?”
“If you two can act like that in front of all these people, what else have you been doing when I’m not around?” His voice was a mixture of accusation and fear, but I was unmoved.
“Besides, you’re always threatening me with divorce. Isn’t that what you wanted? To be with him? So go ahead. I’ll be the good guy today and make your dreams come true.”
The murmurs and insults from the onlookers filled the air, a chorus of judgment directed at Thomas. Their disdain washed over us, but I blocked it out, my focus solely on the papers laid out on the table.
Thomas was visibly shaken, panting heavily as he glared at me, his fists clenched tight. But then, a cold smirk crept across his face, a sudden shift in his demeanor.
“Fine. A divorce it is. I’ll sign it! Riley, you’d better not regret this!”
With that, he snatched a pen from the table, his movements frantic, and scrawled his name on the agreement without even bothering to glance at the details.
A rush of pure joy surged through me, electrifying my senses. This version of the divorce agreement was crafted to maximize my benefits, a feat that had seemed nearly impossible.
We had a prenuptial agreement that limited our shared marital assets, a condition imposed by his family when we wed, their fears of my intentions toward the Scott Corporation looming large.
My lawyer had initially planned to leverage this agreement along with my evidence to negotiate a fair outcome. After all, the disparity between our financial standings was vast. Even with proof of Thomas’s infidelity, the idea of forcing him to walk away with nothing felt like an unattainable fantasy, given his resources.
Our best hope was to negotiate for a little more than the bare minimum. But I never imagined he would sign it without even reading it.
At first, my focus had not been on the financial aspect; I simply craved a swift end to our marriage.
Yet my lawyer had warned me that such a straightforward approach wouldn’t yield the desired results.
Now, it felt as if the universe had conspired in my favor.
With careful precision, I folded the signed agreement, allowing my gaze to sweep over Thomas one last time before landing on Peyton. “He’s all yours,” I declared, my voice steady and unwavering.
Turning on my heel, I walked away, refusing to look back.
Once home, I snapped a picture of the signed documents and sent them to my lawyer, a wave of relief washing over me. That night, I sank into the most restful sleep I had experienced in years, the weight of my past finally lifting.
