The Divorce He Demanded

The crystal chandelier in the living room shone harshly. Jerry Leonard slid a stack of papers across the table toward me, tapping the surface with his fingertips. This was the tenth time he had mentioned divorce to me. "Petra, just sign it." His voice was flat, utterly devoid of warmth. I lowered my eyes to the divorce agreement; the dense clauses spread before me like a net. There is only one condition: after the divorce, all the property in my name shall belong entirely to Anne Campbell. Anne Campbell stood beside Jerry Leonard, dressed in my silk robe, a mocking smile playing at her lips. "Jerry, on what grounds are you doing this?" I lifted my head, my voice steadier than even I expected. That property is inheritance left by my parents, the empire I built step by step—it has nothing to do with him, Jerry Leonard. "Because I am your husband." Jerry frowned, his tone sharpening with impatience. "Don't force me to be ruthless." Anne Campbell stepped forward and looked down at me with contempt. "Petra, be reasonable." She reached out and stroked Jerry Leonard's shoulder, her gaze dripping with disdain. "Jerry hasn't cared about you for a long time. Holding on to that property is just a waste." "You might as well give it to me—that would be the sensible choice. Then we can keep our distance and avoid future trouble." I ignored her, quietly fixing my gaze on Jerry Leonard. We've been married five years—from naive lovers to now sharing the same bed but leading separate lives—ending in such a humiliating way. Jerry Leonard avoided my gaze and put on a gentle facade. "Petra, even if we get divorced, we can still be friends." "I will take care of you, as long as you sign the agreement." Friends? I sneered inwardly. He stripped me of everything, then hypocritically said he would take care of me—that's what he called friendship. My chest felt as if it was being repeatedly struck by a blunt object, the pain making it hard to breathe. But I didn't let a tear fall, nor did I argue further. I simply pushed the agreement back and said, word by word, "I won't sign." Jerry Leonard's expression darkened instantly. Anne Campbell laughed aloud and reached out to pat my cheek. "Petra, how shameless can you be?" Her nails dug painfully into my cheek. "Do you think Jerry will come back if you refuse to sign?" "Look at you, always so lifeless and dull—how can you compare to me?" Her words were like needles, piercing relentlessly into my heart. I suddenly turned my head to dodge her hand, my gaze growing cold. Anne was startled by my sudden reaction, then cast a wronged glance at Jerry. "Jerry, look at her—she still wants to hit me." Jerry Leonard immediately shielded Anne Campbell behind him, glaring viciously at me: "Petra, have you caused enough trouble?" I stood up, too tired to look at their disgusting faces any longer. "Divorce? Not unless I'm dead." After saying that, I turned and went back to the bedroom, closing the door behind me. Outside the door came Anne's petulant complaints and Jerry's soothing voice. I leaned against the door, slowly sliding down to sit on the floor. Tears finally broke free, falling onto the cold floor. Five years of love, ultimately thrown away like garbage. That night, I stayed awake the entire night. Sharp waves of pain twisted through my stomach, as if countless worms were gnawing inside. I forced myself to get up and took some medicine, but it did nothing. Over the years, managing the business and accommodating Jerry Leonard's dietary habits, I often skipped meals irregularly, and my stomach illness had long taken root. But recently, the pain has become more frequent and unbearably intense.