President's Ex-Wife, Mafia Family's Precious Princess

Night had already settled in by the time the final mourner departed.

Dragging her tired body through the front door, Melanie Becker immediately noticed the men's shoes resting near the entrance.

Shawn Becker had finally returned after disappearing without a trace for an entire week.

Her mother's condition had deteriorated terrifyingly fast. Within three days, she was gone. Throughout that nightmare, she had tried calling Shawn countless times, only to be met with unanswered rings and silence.

Between hospital corridors, funeral arrangements, and the burial itself, she honestly didn't know how she would have managed without the support of relatives and close friends.

The lingering aroma of lilies still clung to her hair and clothing, colliding strangely with the crisp cedar scent filling the house.

Fatigue weighed heavily on every part of her body. She set her purse beside the cabinet, changed into indoor slippers, and quietly moved deeper into the house.

In the sitting room, Shawn stood beside the tall windows with a phone pressed to his ear.

When he noticed her, the faint smile remained on his face as he continued the conversation on the phone.

A cold amusement flickered across her expression. So the phone had been working after all. She had almost convinced herself it was gone.

She lacked the energy to question him, much less demand reasons for vanishing when she had needed him most. None of it seemed important anymore.

Their marriage had never been built on love to begin with. Years ago, she had saved his grandfather's life, while her own mother desperately required medical treatment. As the nation's president, Shawn possessed influence, specialists, and opportunities she could never access alone.

Now her mother was dead, and the arrangement binding them together no longer served any purpose.

For three empty years, their relationship had survived in name only. She was finished with it.

All she wanted now was hot water, darkness, and sleep.

She headed toward the staircase. She was half way up the stairs when Shawn's voice sliced through the stillness behind her.

"Where have you been? Why are you only getting home now?" Displeasure in his voice was impossible to dismiss.

Melanie had never been someone who stayed out late or chased excitement. Work and home were the only places her life revolved around.

Even while her mother fought for survival in the hospital, she still hurried back every evening before Shawn returned from the presidential residence.

Shoes arranged neatly by the entrance. Freshly pressed clothes hanging in perfect order. Scented candles glowing in his study every night before nine.

She had bent herself into the ideal wife because she believed obedience might save her mother. And yet, the donor heart meant for her mother had ultimately gone to Rylee Watson instead.

For eight endless months, her mother had waited for a transplant while living on borrowed time. Still, Shawn had handed the opportunity to Rylee without even discussing it with her first.

Melanie stopped midway on the staircase and remained silent.

Shawn approached from behind and stepped in front of her, cutting off the path upstairs. "Rylee's operation was successful. I'll pull every string possible to locate another donor for your mother," he explained.

Her nails bit into her palms as Melanie stared into the darkness beneath the staircase lights. When she finally spoke, her tone carried no warmth at all. "There's no reason to."

A crease formed between Shawn's brows. He clearly assumed she was upset over his ignored calls.

Patiently, he continued, "Rylee suffered a sudden cardiac episode. It was life-threatening. She needed surgery immediately, and that heart happened to be the strongest match available."

Melanie nearly laughed at the explanation. Rylee had always been the woman he truly wanted. For ten years, he had never fully let her go. Of course, he would choose her.

If she had never entered the picture, Rylee would likely have been publicly standing beside him already instead of hiding in the shadows the way she had for the last three years. No wedding ceremony. No ring. No acknowledgment that she even existed as his wife.

"Understood," Melanie murmured dully before trying to move past him.

Once again, Shawn stopped her. His hands rested lightly against her shoulders. "I came back immediately after finishing everything over there."

The words tasted bitter in her mind. Immediately? After spending seven days at Rylee's side while abandoning every other responsibility?

"Do you expect gratitude for that?" she asked sharply.

Shawn's expression darkened with irritation. "What is your problem tonight? Why are you acting like this? I've already explained the situation. Why keep making things difficult?"

Something sharp twisted inside her chest.

Making things difficult?

Her mother had already been buried. People had attended the funeral, offered condolences, and gone home again. Through all of it, Shawn remained completely unaware.

The hospital where her mother died belonged to the same elite medical network his own family relied on.

Perhaps their hidden marriage kept him uninformed. But surely his assistant, the person responsible for organizing every detail of his schedule, must have known.

Apparently, her suffering simply hadn't mattered enough to mention.

Melanie looked directly at him, suddenly exhausted beyond anger. Softly, she said, "Shawn, I want a divorce."

She no longer wished to remain tied to a man who didn't care for her. She hated the version of herself that had spent years shrinking smaller just to keep him satisfied.

For a brief moment, Shawn simply stared at her. His gaze turned sharp and unreadable as he studied her face. "You're saying this because I missed your calls?"

Melanie lowered her eyes. The tiny piece of hope she hadn't realized she still carried finally disappeared. "Yes. Because you ignored every single one."

There was nothing left worth explaining.

She brushed past him and continued climbing the stairs.

Behind her, Shawn spoke again. "Have you actually considered what your life looks like without me? How exactly will you handle your mother's medical expenses?"

Melanie's footsteps slowed.

Hands tucked into his pockets, he watched her from below with narrowed eyes. "I'm going to pretend you never said that. Get some sleep."

The stairway remained dim, but she could still recognize the contempt in his expression. It was the arrogance of someone convinced he stood far above her.

Just then, his phone rang once more. He checked the screen, muted the call, and headed downstairs.

Melanie pressed her nails deeper into her skin while watching him leave, forcing herself not to break apart. "I'll send the divorce documents to the presidential residence," she called after him.

Shawn paused only briefly before continuing forward. A moment later, the front door shut behind him.

The house fell silent again. Soon, the sound of a car engine drifted away into the night.

The last of Melanie's strength vanished. She collapsed onto the floor, the cold marble biting against her skin. Even so, it couldn't compare to the emptiness spreading through her chest.

Her eyes wandered across the massive house surrounding her. Over the past three years, she had cleaned and cared for every inch of it herself.

Because Shawn preferred absolute quiet, she had dismissed nearly all the staff. Aside from a weekly cleaning crew, every responsibility had belonged to her alone.

Once, she had foolishly imagined this place was her home. Now it felt unfamiliar, almost alien.

Still, the truth was painfully simple. No one had forced her to disappear into someone else's shadow. She had reduced herself willingly and somehow expected respect in return.