Divorced by the CEO, He Regrets it

Two.

Tiffany’s POV

I woke up on the couch with my face stuck to the leather, the burgundy dress twisted around my thighs like it was trying to choke me.

Sunlight stabbed through the blinds. My head pounded. For one stupid second I thought last night was a nightmare.

Then I saw the divorce papers crumpled on the coffee table.

David’s side of the bed was untouched. Of course it was.

I sat up slowly, every muscle aching. My silver heels lay abandoned by the door like evidence from a crime scene. I grabbed my phone with shaking fingers and dialed his number. It rang and rang.

“Come on, David,” I whispered. “Please.”

The call connected but it wasn’t his voice.

“Well, well. If it isn’t the ex-wife.” Sophia’s tone dripped with fake sweetness.

“David’s in the shower, sweetheart. Can I take a message?”

My stomach dropped. “Give him the phone.”

She laughed softly. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you? He told you last night, it’s over. Stop embarrassing yourself. We have brunch plans with his parents.”

“Sophia, please. Just let me talk to him for one minute.”

“David!” she called out, voice bright. “It’s her again.” There was a muffled conversation, then she came back on. “He says sign the papers and move on. Oh, and keep the heels. He doesn’t want them back.”

The line went dead. I stared at the phone until the screen went black. Then I threw it across the room. It hit the wall with a c***k.

I forced myself up and dragged a suitcase from the closet. My hands moved on autopilot, folding his favorite shirts I used to steal, packing the perfume he bought me last Christmas. Every item carried a memory.

I remembered the night he proposed. We were on the tiny balcony of our first apartment, eating cheap takeout.

He had gotten down on one knee with a ring from the mall because that was all we could afford back then.

“Tiff, I don’t have much, but I have you. That’s enough for me.” I’d cried happy tears and said yes before he even finished asking.

Now those same hands had handed me divorce papers in front of his new fiancée.

I kept packing. A small velvet box fell out of the drawer. Inside were photos of us on our first anniversary, smiling in a photo booth. Another one from the hospital.

My hand trembled as I pulled out the faded pregnancy test. Positive. I had lost the baby at twelve weeks. David had been away on a business trip.

I never told him how bad it got, how I had bled on the bathroom floor alone, too scared to call and distract him. I had handled it quietly, like I handled everything else.

“God, David,” I choked out, clutching the test. “I would’ve told you everything if you’d just stayed.”

My phone buzzed. A message from Lisa, my closest friend, who I thought was my closest friend.

Hey, I heard what happened. Maybe it’s best if you skip the family dinner next month. Things are awkward now. Take care.

I read it twice. Then a third time. No offer to meet for coffee. No “are you okay?” Just… stay away.

Tears blurred everything. I wiped them roughly and zipped the suitcase. I needed money. At least enough to get a room somewhere. I threw on jeans and a hoodie, grabbed the bank card, and drove to the branch we had used together for years.

The teller smiled at first. Then she typed in the account number and her face changed.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Harrington. This joint account has been restricted. Only Mr. Harrington has access now.”

My voice came out small. “That’s… that’s my money too. I have been depositing my salary. ”

“I can only advise you to speak with your husband directly.”

She gave me that pitying look people save for strays.

I walked out of the bank empty-handed. The drive back to the apartment felt endless.

When I got inside, I slid down the wall until I was sitting on the floor surrounded by half-packed boxes. Photos, gifts, the stupid silver heels, everything scattered around me like pieces of a life that didn’t belong to me anymore.

I hugged my knees to my chest and let the sobs tear out of me. Loud, ugly cries that echoed in the empty apartment.

“What am I going to do?” I whispered between gasps. “I gave you everything. Everything.”

My phone started ringing on the floor beside me. Unknown number. I almost didn’t answer. But something made me swipe the screen with a shaky hand.

“Hello?” My voice was raw, barely above a whisper.

A calm, deep male voice came through, gentle but urgent.

“Tiffany? It’s Austin. I saw the photos from last night. Tell me where you are right now!”