The Billionaire Regretted Losing His Invisible Wife novel Chapter 11

Chapter 11 Fragments of Divorce Papers

Mia’s POV

I reached for my bag.

“I’ve made my decision,” I said quietly, pulling out the envelope.

Kyle’s eyes fixed on the envelope, his jaw tightening. “What is that?”

“You know what it is.” I held the papers out, my voice steadier than I felt. “I’ve already signed them.”

His laugh was harsh, echoing off the sterile walls. “You can’t be serious.” 1

“I’ve never been more serious.” I stepped closer, forcing him to take the envelope. “It’s over, Kyle. Whatever this was between us – the contract, the pretense, all of it. It’s done.”

Kyle’s fingers closed around the envelope, but instead of opening it, he moved to the window. The setting sun cast his profile in sharp relief, highlighting the tension in his shoulders.

“And your mother?” His voice was deceptively soft. “How do you plan to pay for her care?”

The question hit like a physical blow, but I forced myself to stand straight. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Will you?” He turned then, his eyes storm-dark. “Do you have any idea how much specialized neurological care costs?”

“Don’t do this.”

“Do what?” He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. “State facts? Your mother needs round-the- clock care, experimental treatments, specialized equipment. None of which you can afford on a secretary’s salary.”

“I’ll get another job. I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” His voice turned cruel. “Sell your art? The same art you haven’t touched in years? Or maybe you’ll run to your new friend at that design firm? Is that your plan?”

“Stop it.”

“No, you stop it.” In one fluid motion, he ripped the envelope open, pulling out the papers. “This schoolgirl fantasy of independence ends now.”

“They’re already signed,” I said, watching as his eyes scanned the documents. “All you have to do is-”

The sound of ripping paper cut through the air like gunfire. I watched, frozen, as Kyle tore the divorce papers to shreds, the pieces falling like snow around our feet.

“No.” His voice was ice. “You want to talk about contracts? Fine. You signed one three years ago. Five years of marriage, that was the deal. You don’t get to walk away now.”

“You can’t do this.”

“I can, and I will.” He moved closer, backing me against the wall. “You’re my wife, Mia. That doesn’t end just because you’ve decided to throw a tantrum.”

“A tantrum?” Anger gave me courage. “Is that what you call this? Wanting freedom from a loveless marriage?”

“Love has nothing to do with it.”

“No,” I laughed bitterly. “It never did, did it? Not with you.”

His phone buzzed – Taylor’s ringtone, of course. But for once, he didn’t reach for it.

“Your mother’s treatment costs fifty thousand dollars a month,” he said instead, each word precise and cutting. “The experimental procedures she needs? Another hundred thousand. The specialized

equipment? Two hundred thousand minimum.”

Each number felt like a nail in my coffin. “Stop.”

“The best neurologists in the country, the private nursing staff, the-”

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