CHAPTER 1: THE NIGHT HE CAME HOME

The door opened at 2:43 a.m.

Richard didn’t expect the lights to be on.

He paused in the entryway, one hand still on the handle, his expression flickering from irritation to something closer to unease. Clara sat exactly where he had left her hours ago—on the couch, back straight, one hand resting over her belly.

Waiting.

But not the way she used to.

“You’re up,” he said, forcing casual into his voice as he loosened his tie. “I told you not to wait.”

Clara didn’t answer immediately. She studied him instead—the lipstick he hadn’t bothered to wipe clean, the чужой perfume clinging to him like a confession he didn’t think she deserved to hear.

Then she gestured lightly toward the coffee table.

“I won’t be,” she said.

Richard followed her gaze.

The envelope.

“What’s that?” he asked, already annoyed.

“My answer,” Clara replied.

He let out a short laugh. “To what?”

“To everything.”

That irritation came back stronger now. He stepped forward, grabbed the envelope, and slid a finger under the seal. Paper rustled loudly in the quiet room.

His eyes moved quickly at first.

Then slower.

Then not at all.

“What is this?” he asked, voice tightening.

“Divorce papers,” Clara said calmly. “Preliminary filings. There’s also a financial injunction request attached.”

Richard looked up sharply. “You’re joking.”

“No.”

“You don’t get to do this in the middle of the night like some dramatic—”

“This isn’t drama,” she cut in, her voice still soft. “This is me finishing something I should have ended a long time ago.”

He stared at her, searching for the woman who used to cry, argue, beg him to stay.

She wasn’t there.

“You’re pregnant,” he said finally, as if that solved everything. “You think you can just walk away from me?”