Forgiving No One After Eight Divorce

Four years of a secret marriage.

Seven divorces. Seven remarriages. Zero public announcements.

Tonight marks our eighth divorce.

To the outside world, Ethan is the city's most eligible billionaire CEO.

Everyone automatically assumes he and Chloe are meant to be.

And me? I am just an invisible wife hidden away in his luxury penthouse.

He walked through the door and went straight to the point.

"Chloe's heart condition is acting up again. We need to sign the divorce papers tonight.

You know the drill.

If the media or her family's trust fund finds out I am secretly married while she's hospitalized, my company's stock will tank.

Plus, I need to remain legally single to act as her primary emergency medical proxy.

Once her condition stabilizes and the PR crisis is over, we'll remarry."

It was always like this.

Every time she had a supposed health scare, the board and the press demanded Ethan act as the devoted, single billionaire.

To protect his corporate image and secure his legal right to sign her surgical consent forms, his marriage to me had to legally "disappear."

He had to be by her side as a flawless, unattached savior.

I didn't argue.

I simply opened the drawer, pulled out the separation agreement I had already signed, and slid it across the table.

"It's already signed," I said quietly.

Ethan froze. Then, his tense shoulders relaxed.

He clearly didn't expect me to be so cooperative.

"See? This is much better.

I'm glad you're finally being understanding about my situation."

He picked up his pen and signed his name. His strokes were quick. Effortless.

He acted as if our four years of marriage were just a piece of trash he could casually toss into the bin.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

The customized ringtone he set only for Chloe echoed in the quiet room.

He checked the screen, his jaw tightening with urgency. He didn't even bother to take off his coat.

He threw the papers aside. He paused, perhaps feeling a tiny fraction of guilt.

"I know it's not fair to you this time. Just trust me. Let me handle Chloe's crisis, and then we'll get married again."

I looked at him silently.

I had heard that exact promise eight times.

It used to give me hope. Now, it just made me sick.

Four years ago, he held my hand tightly.

He promised me that once his company went public, he would reveal me to the world.

He promised me a grand wedding.

That promise was a lie.

Whenever Chloe made a sound, he shoved divorce papers in my face to "manage his risks."

The first few times, I cried. I fought. I begged him to stay.

But after so many times? My heart just went completely numb.

He always called me unreasonable. He told me to be mature.

He said he owed Chloe for the past.

But he never once asked if my heart was breaking.

Last month, I had a high fever and fainted in this very living room.

I called him three times.

He rejected every call because Chloe was having a "panic attack" over a scratched bumper.

I dragged myself to the ER alone in the pouring rain.

That was the night my heart stopped bleeding. It simply turned to ice.

He remembered to buy Chloe limited-edition jewelry.

He slept in a chair by her hospital bed for days.

Yet, he missed every single one of our wedding anniversaries.

All he ever gave me were those eight divorce decrees sitting in the drawer.

A constant, glaring reminder that our marriage was nothing but a pathetic joke.

I sat quietly on the sofa. Ethan was still rambling.

He talked about how we would file the paperwork next month.

He promised to buy me a gift to make up for it.

His tone was so confident. So arrogant.

He was absolutely certain I would sit here like a loyal pet. He thought I would always swallow my pride and wait for him.

Suddenly, his eyes flicked to my left hand. He noticed my bare ring finger.

His brow furrowed in annoyance.

"Where is your ring? Why aren't you wearing it?

Don't start throwing a tantrum, Iris. I don't have the energy to focus on you right now."

"It's safe. I put it away," I replied, my voice perfectly steady.

I didn't yell. I didn't cry. My eerie calmness made him frown deeper, but his impatience won out.

"Good. Leave it in the safe.

I'll buy you a bigger one next month," he muttered, grabbing his car keys from the table.

A memory flashed through my mind.

Four years ago, at the courthouse, he slid that diamond onto my finger.

It was the only physical proof of my invisible marriage.

For four years, I never took it off.

If this was the old me, I would have panicked. I would have rushed to find it just to please him.

But tonight? I didn't care.

I had already taken it off hours ago.

My fingers brushed against the thick paper hidden deep inside my purse.

It was a one-way cruise ticket out of the country. The ship leaves at midnight.

The ring meant absolutely nothing to me anymore.

I watched him turn his back to me, blindly rushing toward the woman he truly cared about.

He didn't know it yet. But when he walked out that door, I was going to vanish from his life. Forever.