Chapter 1

Chapter 1

The day before our wedding, the million-dollar custom gown finally arrived.

I stroked my slightly rounded belly, feeling the tiny heartbeat within, and handed Landon the divorce papers.

His secretary, Macy, called me, her voice trembling with crocodile tears as she explained, "I'm so sorry, Avery. I didn't realize you hated this style. Please don't take it out on Landon."

Landon's voice came through the line, soft and comforting toward her, but icy when he spoke to me. "Don't do something you'll regret," he warned.

I didn't argue. I just packed my bags and walked away without a single backward glance.

As I struggled with my suitcase, the front door swung open. Landon stood there, his brow furrowed in a deep, chilling scowl.

"Avery, are you still throwing this tantrum? I don't have time for your drama," he snapped.

His tone was so sharp, so professional, you'd think he was reprimanding a low-level intern rather than his pregnant fiancée.

Back in the day, whenever I had the slightest pout, Landon would pull me into his arms and patiently explain everything until I calmed down.

Now, he just wanted to shut me up with a single, dismissive sentence.

But I wasn't throwing a fit. I was serious.

I looked him straight in the eyes, my voice steady. "Landon, let's find a time to finalize the divorce."

He tugged at his tie, his irritation boiling over. He clearly thought I was just playing hard to get.

"Macy didn't know you hated white wedding dresses. Can't you just suck it up for one day? The ceremony is tomorrow," he groaned.

Macy was a girl in her early twenties who had become Landon's personal secretary right after graduation.

How personal? They were practically inseparable.

People in the industry joked that if you found Landon, Macy was sure to be within three feet of him.

He had even let Macy choose the style of my wedding dress, completely bypassing me, his actual bride.

It wasn't until the day before the wedding that I realized the gown was white―the one color I loathed with every fiber of my being.

I didn't blame Macy for the choice; most people assume a wedding dress should be white.

But Landon should have remembered his promise from years ago.

Clearly, he had forgotten everything. There was no point in going through with this farce.

Seeing me still gripping my suitcase, the frustration on Landon's face darkened.

"Where could you possibly go in your condition?" he sneered.

"Besides, you're not a little girl like Macy. You're at an age where playing the 'runaway bride' is just embarrassing. Don't you feel pathetic?"

Even though I had already decided to leave, his words felt like a physical blow. My nails dug into my palms.

This wasn't the first time I'd heard this comparison.

When Macy first joined the firm, Landon used to complain to me about how clumsy she was―sending the wrong files, losing data. He acted like he regretted hiring her.

I was the one who defended her back then, telling Landon she was just a fresh grad and needed time to learn.

But somewhere along the line, the narrative shifted.

One night, Macy called him sobbing, saying she thought she was being followed and was terrified. The man who once complained about her being a 'burden' grabbed his keys and bolted out the door without a second thought for me.

A woman's intuition is never wrong.

The way they interacted transcended a professional relationship. It was intimate, suffocating.

When I finally asked him to move Macy to a different department, Landon blew up at me for the first time.

He told me to stop poking my nose into company business if I didn't understand how things worked.

Maybe he realized he'd been too harsh, because he later softened his tone and promised to keep his distance.

But secrets don't stay buried forever.

Soon, the rumors reached my ears. In the eyes of the public, Macy was Landon's right-hand woman, his true partner. Nobody even knew I existed.

When I broke down and confronted him, he just looked at me with cold, dead eyes.

"Macy is just a girl, she's innocent and needs guidance. I'm just mentoring her. Why are you so insecure about a child?"

"You're only this sensitive because you're bored at home with nothing to do," he added.

That sentence sliced through my heart like a jagged blade.

After that, I stopped fighting. I stopped asking about Macy.

Landon thought I had finally seen reason.

Only I knew that the walls I had built for him were crumbling, brick by brick.

I fought back the tears, my hand trembling as I gripped the handle of my suitcase.

"Landon, is that how you see me? Am I not allowed to have feelings? Am I not allowed to hate things?"

I looked at the man I had loved for seven years.

From the age of twenty-two to twenty-nine, time hadn't aged him; it had only made him more ruggedly handsome.

Landon looked the same as the day we met.

But I knew that everything―absolutely everything―was different now.

"I'm done being the 'old woman' in your life. I want to be Avery again."

"Cancel the wedding. I'll send over the papers," I said firmly.

I turned around and headed for the door.

Landon was livid. Behind me, I heard the violent crash of something glass shattering against the floor.

"Fine! Go! But don't you dare come crawling back! I want to see who's going to want a pregnant divorcee!"