These Annulment Papers Are Final

"You fucking bitch, Emily!"

Caleb exploded. The oppressive weight of a man used to getting his way slammed into me. He shoved me back, hard.

My head slammed against the corner of a table. Pain exploded, and my vision blurred.

I heard Caleb’s furious roar.

"What is wrong with you, Emily? Is bullying people some kind of addiction?"

"The very air in this estate is foul just from you being in it. You disgust me!"

I braced myself against the wall and slowly pulled myself to my feet, trying to block out his increasingly vicious words.

"I'll move out. Immediately. Don't worry."

"You'd better do what you say."

Caleb's anger caught in his throat, as if he hadn't expected me to agree so readily.

He glared at me, then swept Sloane up into his arms and strode away, cradling her like a priceless treasure.

I touched the sticky warmth on the back of my head. Blood. Red and fresh. Not the cheap perfume he despised.

Back when Caleb and I weren't on such bad terms, when we learned we were engaged, when we knew we would eventually get married, I used to follow him everywhere.

He was rebellious. He'd sneak into bars to drink. I'd follow.

Later, he got into a fight with the son of a business rival.

I tried to break it up and accidentally got a cut on my finger.

In that instant, Caleb had turned into a ferocious beast.

He beat a guy a head taller than him until he was begging for mercy, all because the asshole had made me bleed.

But the man who once flew into a panic over a paper cut on my finger had just slammed my head against a table for another woman. He called me worthless. He told me to go die.

It didn't matter anymore.

Once my adoptive parents returned and my transfer was approved, I could finally end this disastrous engagement.

I glanced at the servants nearby, forcing myself to muster something resembling a smile.

"Could someone please call the family doctor for me?"

A young, new maid started to step forward, but an older housekeeper pulled her back.

Their hushed conversation, despite their efforts to be quiet, carried clearly to my ears.

"Are you crazy?!"

"Don't you know Mr. Hawthorne hates this woman?"

"If he sees you helping her, you’ll be out on the street before you can blink!"

The young maid froze, glanced at me again, then lowered her head and scurried off.

I shook my head, a bitter smile on my lips. I crawled to the corner and picked up my shattered phone.

My adoptive parents traveled year-round, expanding the group's overseas markets.

They were home for maybe three or four days a month.

Caleb was the sole master here. He had said it more than once.

I wasn't a true Hawthorne. My problems were my own to solve.

So no one dared to come near me.

Whenever I came home, leftovers were thrown out, even if I hadn't eaten.

The plates on the table were empty. Not even a sip of hot soup.

But I was used to it.

I dragged myself to the pharmacy and bought disinfectant and bandages.

I went back to the estate to pack my things. This time, no one stopped me.

The servants watched me struggle alone with cold eyes, as if I were invisible.

That afternoon, I packed everything and loaded it into an old, used Jeep.

It was something I'd bought with years of saved allowance.

I was going to Long Island. Away from the hustle of Manhattan, there was freedom.

Three days after leaving the estate, Caleb called. His voice was drunk, and the background was noisy.

"Where are you?"

"Zero-Point Club. Top-floor suite. Come pick me up."

I was on the roof of my seaside cottage trying to patch a leak when my phone rang. The unexpected call broke my concentration, and a wave of irritation washed over me.

"Caleb Hawthorne, what do you want?"

There was silence on the other end. It seemed he hadn't expected me to use his full name.

Even the sounds of revelry around him quieted down.

I asked again. No answer. I was about to hang up.

Caleb suddenly spoke, his voice laced with anger.

"Emily, where are you?"

I put down the hammer, wiped the sweat from my brow, and answered nonchalantly.

"Didn't you say the very air was foul with me under the same roof? Well, I moved out."

"Don't worry. I'm not coming back. I've already submitted my transfer request to HR."

The man's breathing grew heavy. He sneered.

"Emily, when did you become so obedient?"

"Weren't you the one who used to cling to me endlessly?"

"Since you're suddenly so damn obedient, why don't you follow all my orders? I told you to get out of my sight. Why haven't you disappeared completely?!"

"Emily, I don't care what game you're playing. But if you do anything to Sloane again, I won't spare you!"

The wind on the roof was strong. It made me a little cold. I gazed at the distant sea.

It took me a moment to realize how absurd his logic was.

His mocking voice continued.

"What, nothing to say?"

"Aren't you tired of playing these pathetic little games every day?"

"Apologize to Sloane, and I might allow you to come back. You can have the guest room."

I spoke slowly, my voice so calm it surprised even me.

"Alright, Caleb Hawthorne. I promise you. I will disappear."

Before he could respond, I hung up the phone. And blocked his number.