Walking Away While Pregnant: Dear Ex-Husband, I Don't Love You Anymore Chapter 74

Unfair?

A faint, bitter smile tugged at the corners of Elise’s lips.

"When I first discovered that Dylan had built a ho in Orchard Residence with Quinn, I felt exactly that way."

Her voice was calm, almost detached, masking the hollow ache inside. "There were countless things I couldn’t bring myself to accept."

"But it was all a misunderstanding!" Madeline imdiately leaned forward, her tone growing urgent. "Dylan and Quinn were only working together under a strict agreent. Look."

She hurriedly pulled a docunt from her handbag and thrust it forward. "This is a copy of their contract."

Elise accepted the papers. Her gaze swept across the pages briefly, casually—as if she were reading nothing more significant than a restaurant nu. There was no shock, no sudden flash of anger, no visible reaction at all.

Madeline stared at her, deeply bewildered. "Elise..." Her brows furrowed. "The agreent is real. Do you... do you not believe it?"

"I do," Elise replied, handing the docunt back. "I know it’s genuine."

The effortless answer caught Madeline completely off guard. "If you believe it, then why—"

"Because it’s too late," Elise interrupted gently. The words were soft, yet they carried a crushing weight that anchored them to the floor.

"Now, I can believe that Dylan and Quinn were only partners." She paused, her voice dropping to a whisper. "But the truth arrived too late."

Madeline stared at her, genuinely unable to comprehend this.

"Why?" Her voice rose slightly, desperate to bridge the gap. "Dylan was trying to protect you! Yes, his thods were extre..." A trace of helpless frustration crossed her face. "But he was terrified that what happened five years ago would happen again."

The room fell into a heavy, suffocating quiet. Elise lowered her eyes, remaining silent for a long mont before she finally spoke.

"Madeline, during those five years, I never hated Dylan. Not once."

The confession hung in the air, a stark contrast to what ca next. She lifted her gaze, her eyes reflecting a profound tiredness.

"The resentnt only began when I discovered the existence of that family... When I saw him, Quinn, and Robin together."

A faint tremor finally broke through her composed facade. "That’s when everything changed."

She looked away, focusing on the pale sunlight filtering through the window.

"Whether that family was real or fake no longer matters. Because the pain I felt was real. The betrayal was real. The humiliation was real. The hatred... was real."

Every word landed like a wound reopening, sharp and agonizing.

"I carried every consequence. I endured every sleepless night. I suffered every ounce of despair those lies created," she said, her eyes turning entirely cold as she looked directly at Madeline. "So tell ... why should a piece of paper erase all of that?"

Silence flooded the room once more. Madeline opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again.

She realized that Elise was right. It didn’t matter why the wound had been inflicted; a wound was still a wound. Pain does not vanish simply because soone explains their motives afterward. An explanation could provide understanding, but it could never undo suffering.

Defeated, Madeline said nothing.

Elise gently placed the baby clothes back into the shopping bag, her movents careful and elegant.

"You can tell Dylan sothing for ," she said, her voice dropping into an unwavering calm. "I’ll keep the gifts. But I am still getting a divorce."

. . .

After Madeline left, Elise stopped expecting Dylan to appear at the Civil Affairs Bureau on the seventeenth. Hope, after all, was rely a cruel way to invite further disappointnt. Instead, she contacted her lawyer, Alexander, directly.

"Prepare everything in advance," she instructed him. "If Dylan doesn’t show up on the seventeenth, file the lawsuit imdiately."

Unfortunately, Alexander did not bring encouraging news.

"There is a complication," he said, his tone grim. "Dylan’s legal team has already submitted the cooperation agreent between him and Quin Foster. Because the agreent is legally valid, the claim of marital infidelity becos incredibly difficult to establish in court. The likelihood of winning this case has dropped significantly."

A wave of exhaustion washed over Elise, heavy and endless. "Is there no other option?"

"There is," the man replied after a brief, hesitant silence. "But it’s the worst-case scenario. You leave the country. You live separately for two years, and then you file for divorce on the grounds of an irretrievable breakdown of the marriage. At that point, the court will be much more likely to grant it."

Elise closed her eyes. The advice was logical, practical, and deeply frustrating.

It truly was her final option. Yet, she knew Dylan too well. If he had been willing to execute such an elaborate, painful charade in the first place, then he had undoubtedly anticipated her filing for divorce. Perhaps he had calculated this exact legal roadblock from the very beginning.

That realization chilled her more than anything else.

She could accept the ruthless calculations of the business world; she had stood beside Dylan through all of it, navigating sches, betrayals, and power struggles to help him conquer rivals. But she could not accept becoming one of his calculations. She could not forgive being manipulated by the man she loved most.

Did pain beco less painful simply because it was inflicted in the na of love?

The question haunted her.

She had loved Dylan for ten years. Ten years. What hardship could they not have faced together? What danger was so terrible that he believed deception was preferable to honesty?

Instead, he chose lies, secrets, and manipulation, all while comforting himself with the delusion that he was protecting her.

Then what had her devotion ant? What had her trust ant? And what about the twins she lost five years ago—the children whose absence still echoed through every empty corner of her life?

The entire situation felt absurd, cruel, and almost laughable in its tragedy. No matter how noble Dylan believed his intentions to be, Elise could neither accept them nor forgive them.

. . .

The seventeenth arrived exactly as scheduled.

Early that morning, Elise gathered every required docunt and headed to the Civil Affairs Bureau. She was the first to arrive. After taking a queue number, she sat quietly in the waiting area, pulling out her phone to call Oliver.

"Tell Dylan I’m here," she said, her voice perfectly composed. "I’ve already arrived at the Civil Affairs Bureau."

On the other end of the line, Oliver hesitated. His usual crisp efficiency vanished, replaced by an awkward stamr.

"Madam... I’ll pass along the ssage. But whether Mr. Bennett cos or not... that’s not sothing I can guarantee."

"That’s fine," Elise replied imdiately, her gaze fixed on the double doors of the entrance. "I’ll wait. But tell him this: I won’t leave before the office closes for lunch."

The waiting room buzzed quietly around her, yet her next words carried a sharp certainty that cut through the ambient noise.

"If he cos, we’ll finalize the divorce. If he doesn’t..." Elise lowered her eyes to the divorce agreent resting in her hands, her fingers tightening against the paper.

"Then I’ll proceed directly with litigation. And this ti, I have no intention of turning back."