The Flower That Grew from Ashes novel Chapter 68

That breezy, unbothered smile on Annelise's face acted like a micro-needle, silently bursting the bubble of dignity Hackett had so carefully maintained.

He had seen her cry, he had seen her throw fits, he had seen her compromise, and he had seen her cautiously try to please him.

But he had never seen her smile like this.

Those eyes that used to gaze at him like a devoted, reliant fawn were now as still and freezing as a bottomless glacial lake.

There was no love, no hatred, not even a ripple of emotion.

It was as if Hackett—and the contract sitting between them that would dictate the rest of her life—were nothing more than irrelevant trash meant to be tossed aside.

This total indifference made Hackett feel an inexplicable, uncontrollable spike of irritation, far worse than any hysterical accusation could have caused.

His refined, elegant composure cracked. Beneath his glasses, his brows knotted together.

"Aren't you going to read it?" his tone was noticeably harder than before.

Annelise finally shifted her gaze from his face to the black-and-white print of the agreement.

She didn't reach for it.

Instead, she looked at him and asked her first question in a tone so cold and alien it was like he was hearing it for the first time.

"Why?"

It was the simplest question possible.

Yet Hackett felt like something had lodged in his throat.

His entire rehearsed script—the polished, standardized corporate-speak—instantly evaporated.

He had envisioned a specific narrative: he would ask for the divorce, she would be shocked, she would cry, and she would beg to know if he had stopped loving her.

Then, in his softest voice, he would tell her that their marriage had been a mistake from the start.

He would talk about "growing apart," about "spending too much time away from each other," and how, as a surgeon, he simply couldn't give her the companionship she deserved.

He would shoulder all the blame, casting himself as the deeply affectionate husband forced to let go out of guilt.

Then, she asked her second question.

"The asset division section of this agreement states that my 30 percent stake in the Sargent Group will be split as a marital asset."

Her voice was smooth and unhurried, like a top-tier attorney laying out a fundamental legal fact.

"But you know perfectly well those shares are my pre-marital property. My father put them in a family trust for me before I even came of age."

"They are fully protected by law and have absolutely nothing to do with you, or this marriage."

She looked up, her gaze cutting into him like twin scalpels.

"So, Hackett. Do you think I don't know the law, or do you think I don't know how to read?"

Hackett's pupils contracted sharply.

He clearly hadn't expected Annelise to be so lucid—so utterly ruthless—about legal technicalities.