The CEO's Regret: Too Late To Beg

The following morning found me sealing the last box in the living room when the front door opened.

Bennett walked in. He looked wrecked, his tie loose and dark circles bruising the skin under his eyes. He stopped short when he saw the suitcases lined up by the door.

"What is this?" he asked.

"I'm leaving, Bennett," I said. I continued to run the tape gun across the cardboard flaps. The sound of the tape ripping was a harsh tear in the quiet house.

He let out a short, incredulous laugh. "Leaving? Because of last night? Kelsey, don't be childish. It was an emergency. Elia was in shock."

"And I needed twenty stitches," I said, not looking up.

"I asked my assistant to send you flowers," he said, waving his hand as if that gesture absolved him of all guilt. "Look, I know you're upset. I brought you something."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a velvet box. He tossed it onto the table, where it slid to a halt next to the divorce papers I had left there.

"It's a diamond necklace," he said. "Custom made. It's worth more than your car."

I looked at the box. I didn't touch it.

"I don't want your necklace, Bennett," I said. "I want a divorce."

He froze. The veneer of arrogance slipped from his face, replaced by genuine confusion. "Divorce? Over a cut on your arm? You're being irrational. We have a life here. We have a plan."

"We?" I laughed. It was a dry, rasping sound. "There is no 'we'. There is you and Elia. I was just the funding. I was just the cover story."

"That's not true." He stepped toward me. "I love you, Kelsey."

"You love yourself," I countered. "And you love the idea of an heir. You don't even know who I am anymore. You don't know my favorite color. You don't know that I stopped painting three months ago. You don't know anything."

His phone rang, cutting through the tension. He glanced at it.

"Answer it," I said. "It's probably her."

He hesitated, then picked it up. "Hello?"

I watched his face change. The color drained from his skin, leaving him ashen. His hand gripped the phone so tight his knuckles turned white.

"What do you mean?" he whispered. "What do you mean the trust fund is contingent?"

He listened for another moment, then looked at me with wide, panicked eyes.

"Father says... he says if I go through with a divorce, the morality clause in the inheritance kicks in. I lose the voting rights. I lose the CEO position."

I smiled. It was a cold, sharp expression.

"That sounds like a 'you' problem, Bennett."

"You can't do this," he stammered, dropping the phone to his side. "You can't leave now. Not when everything is on the line. Just stay. We can live separate lives if you want. Just stay on paper."

"On paper," I repeated.

I walked over to the shredder in the corner of the room. I picked up our wedding photo, the one I had taken out of the frame days ago.

"Kelsey, don't," he warned.

I fed the photo into the machine. Bennett watched in horror as his smiling face was sliced into ribbons. The machine whirred and crunched, a mechanical appetite devouring our past.

"I'm not your employee, Bennett," I said over the noise. "I'm not your asset."

I picked up my purse. I walked to the door.

"Where are you going?" he shouted. "You have nowhere to go! You gave up your apartment! You gave up your career for me!"

"I'm going to find the woman I was before I met you," I said.

I opened the door. The air outside was crisp and clean.

"Kelsey!" he yelled. "If you walk out that door, you get nothing! No alimony! Nothing!"

I turned back one last time. He stood there, surrounded by his expensive furniture and his crumbling empire, holding a velvet box that meant absolutely nothing.

"Keep the money, Bennett," I said. "You're going to need it to pay for your sins."

I slammed the door.

I walked to the waiting taxi. I didn't look back at the house. I didn't look back at the life I had wasted.

My arm throbbed under the bandage, a reminder of the pain. But my chest felt lighter than it had in years.

I checked my phone. One notification. A flight confirmation.

Destination: Paris.

One way.