“If you want the children, take them. They’re only stopping me from starting over.”Adrian Castillo said those words less than five minutes after we signed the divorce papers, as if Noah and Lily were old furniture he no longer wanted instead of our children. I sat across from the polished walnut desk in the attorney’s office, watching the man I had loved for ten years answer his phone with a smile he had not given me in ages.“Baby, it’s done,” he said. “Yes, I can still make the appointment. Today we finally get to meet the future heir.”The heir. Not “my child.” Not “our baby.” Just heir, as if the Castillo family were royalty instead of a poisonous group of people using money to feel important. His sister, Vanessa, smirked beside him.“Well, at least something good finally came out of all this mess.”

I said nothing. I had already cried too many nights over Chloe’s messages, Adrian’s lies, and his mother’s advice that a smart wife knew when to stay quiet. But that morning, I did not feel destroyed. I felt released.Adrian signed the final document without reading it. Hidden inside was his agreement granting me primary custody and permission to travel abroad with the children. He was too eager to celebrate his mistress’s pregnancy to check what he had just signed.“So we’re done?” he asked, glancing at his watch. “My family is waiting at the clinic.”Attorney Bennett cleared his throat.Mr. Castillo, you should review some of the financial terms—”“Later,” Adrian cut in. “I’m not wasting energy arguing over condos or accounts. She can keep whatever she wants. I already have a new life waiting.”