Divorced Ten Times for Her

Elena's POV

Everyone knows Adrian loves me more than life itself. When that car crashed, he threw himself over me and took the hit. First thing he said when he woke up in the hospital: "Where is she? Is she okay?"

Everyone says I married the best man in the city.

What they don't know is this man has married me ten times. And divorced me ten times. All for the woman he's never gotten over.

The first time, I got on my knees and begged him not to leave. He just looked at me with those cold eyes and said, "Don't embarrass yourself."

The fourth time, we were fighting in the car. Then we crashed, and I lost our baby.

By the seventh time, I stopped crying. Just signed the papers, packed my things, waited for him to come back like he always did.

My tears, my compromises, all those times I bent until I nearly broke. What did I get? Him coming back like clockwork, just to do it all over again.

This time, when he slides that tenth divorce agreement across the desk, I finally get it. Some people's hearts never had room for you in the first place.

So this time, I'm throwing him out. Him and this whole Mrs. Hayes charade. Straight into the trash where they belong.

"Elena."

Adrian sits in his study, pushing the divorce papers toward me like he's signing off on a quarterly report. Nothing special. Just another Tuesday.

"Vivian's under a lot of stress. This new role triggered her depression again." He sounds tired, like I'm just another box to check on his to-do list. "Her therapist says she needs stability. You know how it is. If the press catches us still living together..."

He trails off, but I get the picture loud and clear.

For that woman to feel safe, I need to disappear. Again.

I stare at the papers. Same clauses, same signature lines. Probably the same lawyer too. Guy must have the template saved by now. Just update the date and print.

Used to be, I'd cry and ask when we could get remarried. I'd make him swear this was the last time. I'd cling to whatever crumbs of promise he threw my way like they were lifelines.

This time, I just pick up the pen and sign.

Adrian freezes for a second. Then that cocky look slides back onto his face, and he actually laughs. "Playing games again? Elena, you've pulled this whole hard-to-get thing nine times. Don't you ever get tired of this?"

I don't answer. Just push the papers back across the desk.

"Once Vivian wraps her film, we'll get married again." He pulls out a black card from the drawer, tosses it on top of the agreement. "Go buy yourself something. Get out of the house. Stop overthinking everything."

Before today, a card like that would've kept me up all night, convinced it meant he loved me.

Now I know better. It's just bird seed. Toss enough of it in the cage, and the canary stays put.

"I don't need it." I stand up, and my voice comes out steady. Calm. "I don't want anything from you anymore."

I turn and head upstairs. Behind me, Adrian sits there in his study, probably wondering why his script isn't working this time.

In the bedroom, I open the closet and start packing.

All those designer dresses, the jewelry he bought me, everything labeled "Mrs. Adrian Hayes." I don't touch any of it. Just dig out the old backpack I had when I first ran away from home, stuff in some basic clothes.

I hear him at the door. He leans against the frame, watching me with that amused, condescending look.

After a minute, he sighs. "Alright, alright. Stop packing. I'll move out this time. Save you the trouble of going after Vivian again."

He walks over, reaches for my waist.

That familiar move. The one he's used a thousand times to comfort me, control me, keep me exactly where he wants me.

This time, I step away.

His hand hangs in the air. Confusion flashes across his face, then hardens into anger. "Elena! I'm already compromising here. What more do you want? Where else are you gonna go? You running to that lawyer friend of yours again?"

"You know she's the one who leaked Vivian's business last time, right? Sent Vivian straight into a relapse. If I hadn't killed that story, could you have handled the fallout?"

I keep folding clothes. Don't look at him.

"Why can't you be more like Vivian? At least she has a career. Something she cares about besides me. What about you? What do you do all day except follow me around?"

I almost laugh.

He's the one who made me quit my job as his secretary. He's the one who said "I'll take care of you." He's the one who shut me down every single time I tried to do something on my own, told me I was "causing problems."

And now he stands here, using the dependence he created to humiliate me.