Ashton's POV

No one irritates the hell out of me and gets away with it except Katherine.

She walked away—mid-conversation. I was talking to her, trying to hold on to some semblance of control, and she just...walked away.

I ran a hand through my hair, frustration clawing at me. My chest tightened with an anger I didn't know how to release. Instead, I forced myself to stay, to bury it, to blend into the crowd. I busied myself with aimless conversations, nodding at all the right places while my mind refused to stop racing.

David was talking about something—some deal, some numbers—but the words blurred into static. I just stood there, forcing my expression into a mask of indifference, my hands clenched behind my back to stop them from shaking.

If I didn't need this partnership, I'd have walked away. Hell, I'd have kicked his ass just for wasting my time—or, more likely, for what he said to Katherine earlier.

The arrival of two other men distracted him, giving me an excuse to leave. My gaze instinctively searched the room until it found her.

There she was, sitting next to Rebecca. Smiling at her.

But I saw it. The sharp edge to her smile. The subtle daggers she was shooting with her eyes when Rebecca wasn't looking.

A flicker of amusement tugged at my lips. She looked...adorable, completely unaware of how transparent she could be when someone got under her skin.

I stepped forward, ready to go near her when someone collided with me. My amusement faded away when cold liquid spilled across my chest.

"Oops," Alex muttered.

I looked down at the yellowish stain forming on my shirt, my jaw tightening as I glared at him.

"You still love me, don't you?" he asked, a sheepish, apologetic smile lifting his lips.

"Where's the washroom?" I bit out, barely holding back the urge to strangle him.

"Upstairs, I think," he said, gulping down and taking a step backward.

Shaking my head, I walked away, desperate for a moment to myself.

But then, as I turned toward the staircase, something caught my eye.

And everything in me froze.

It was Katherine.

In his arms.

Caleb's hand wrapped tightly around her own, pulling her close.

She wasn't fighting him. She wasn't pushing him away.

My breath grew heavy, the air suddenly too thick, too suffocating.

I wanted to move. I wanted to rip his hands off her, to pull her away, to do something—anything. But my feet stayed planted. I knew if I took one step forward, I'd kill him. I knew I would. I had wanted to since the fucking beginning.

And then, he almost leaned in.

I didn't need to see the rest to know where this was going.

The blood roared in my ears.

I forced myself to walk away, my chest tightening with a pain that felt like it would crush me. My fist curled at my side, nails digging into my palm as I kept walking, each step harder than the last.

This wasn't jealousy.

This was something worse.

It was the gut-wrenching realization that no matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried, she wasn't mine. She would never be mine.

I unbuttoned my shirt and ran a hand over my neck, trying to blunt the ache threatening to suffocate me.

My mind took me back to what I was trying to avoid all day. This morning—when she said his name instead of mine—it wasn't just a mistake. It was a reminder. A cruel, unspoken truth that no matter how much I tried to pretend otherwise, he was still there. Always. A part of her. A shadow I couldn't compete with.

I didn't know what killed me more—that she said another man's name, or that it was his name.

Chase.

It proved that he will always, always be a big part of her life. My life. The life I thought could be ours.

You killed the man that I love.

Her words echoed in my head again, every letter demolishing any little ounce of comfort I had.

The weight of my guilt was already unbearable, a burden I'd carried in silence for years. But hearing her say those words—God, it was like she'd taken the knife buried in my back and twisted it, driving it deeper until there was no air left in my lungs.

I couldn't...couldn't think of anything but the image of them, so close, just outside this room.

Before I knew it, my fist collided with the wall in front of me. The sharp pain that shot through my hand was a needed distraction, keeping me in check when nothing else could. But it didn't stop the images from replaying in my head.

Her. Standing so close to him.

Her. Letting him touch her.

Her. Not pushing him away.

I pressed my forehead against the wall, my breath coming in uneven gasps, but beneath the anger, beneath the frustration, there was something else.

Something raw.

Something I refused to name.

Because if I admitted what it was—if I even let myself think it—there would be no coming back.

"Mr. Ryder, are you okay?"

I felt a hand on my shoulder, shaking me to the present. I turned around to see Rebecca looking up at me with wide, concerned eyes.

I didn't trust myself to speak, my anger simmering dangerously close to the surface. Instead, I ignored her and walked away, my mind spinning out of control.

Rebecca didn't seem to take the fucking hint.

Her footsteps followed me across the room.

"Mr. Ryder," she said cautiously, her voice almost apologetic. "Are you...are you okay?"

Do I look okay?

I ignored her, my fists flexing as I stopped at the edge of the table, my fingers digging into its surface.

"What happened?" she pressed, stepping closer.

"Rebecca, leave me alone." The words came out sharp, cold. A warning.

My mind was spiraling, each thought darker than the last. I felt the desperate need to break something again—anything—before I broke myself.

She reached for my shoulder once more and the last thread of restraint snapped.

I turned quickly, grabbing her wrist and yanking it away from me. She stumbled, startled, her eyes wide with shock.

"I said leave me alone," I bit out.

Just as the words left my mouth, from the corner of my eye, I caught a flicker of movement. Katherine. I saw her. She paused at the door, but she didn't move, she didn't speak, she watched us only.

A bitter thought crossed my mind—a twisted, ugly thought I'd hate myself for it later. But...but I wanted her to hurt. I wanted her to care. To feel even an ounce of the torment ripping me apart.

I wanted her pain.

Maybe, just maybe, it would take away some of mine.

I shifted my stance, leaning closer, angling my body toward Rebecca in a deliberate way. I braced my hand against the wall beside her head, leaning in just enough to make sure Katherine had no doubt about what she was seeing.

Rebecca was welcoming; she didn't hesitate. She tilted her chin up, expecting me to close the distance.

But I wasn't going to do it, I would never, I could never.

The thought of touching anyone other than her made me sick. My stomach twisted with revulsion, and I paused, my face hovering inches away from Rebecca's.

Whatever game I played, Katherine took the bait. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw it—her turning and running away.

With my mission done, I moved back, finally letting go of her. Rebecca seemed disappointed, blinking at me in shock and confusion.

I dragged a hand over my face. "Get out," I shot out, my voice making it clear I wasn't to be messed with.

"Mr. Ryder, I—"

"Now!"

This time, she didn't argue. She hurried out, leaving me alone with the wreckage I had created.

I collapsed into the chair, pressing my forehead against the heel of my palm. My breath was uneven, my chest so tight.

"Fuck," I muttered, my voice breaking.

What the hell was I doing?

To her.

To me.

To us.

I forced her into this marriage, but why? Was it to ruin her life? Or was it because I couldn't stand the idea of losing her?

The truth sat there, mocking me, suffocating me.

I had loved her. Maybe I still did.

But all I had done was hurt her.

So could I even call it love anymore?

And if we were both miserable, what would that mean for our child? How could we give them happiness when we couldn't even find it for ourselves?

I needed to stop this.

I needed to give Katherine what she had wanted from the start.

Her freedom.

For once, the choice had to be hers.

Even if it destroyed me.

Even if it killed me to let her go.

I got up and walked back into the room, my pulse hammering as my eyes searched for Katherine everywhere. I stepped outside, a sharp exhale left my lips as I ran a frustrated hand through my hair, forcing myself to stay calm.

Where the hell is she?

I moved forward, scanning every corner, every familiar face, but she was nowhere to be found.

Until I thought I heard her and turned my head.

And there she was.

Sitting beside the fountain, her back to me. The soft glow of the lights reflected off the water, casting ripples of gold across her silhouette. Alex stood in front of her, hands in his pockets, looking down at her with concern.

My steps slowed, a dull ache settling in my chest as I moved closer.

"Do you want to leave?" Alex's voice carried over the soft trickle of water.

Katherine nodded weakly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, please."

Tears clung to her lashes.

Tears that I caused.

Alex let out a sigh, hesitating before responding. "Okay, I'll be back in a minute. Wait for me."

I took another step forward just as Alex lifted his head—and saw me.

His entire demeanor changed. His jaw tightened, and his eyes flashed with unmistakable disapproval.

He took one last glance at Katherine before stalking toward me.

"Good job," he muttered sarcastically, clapping me on the shoulder with enough force to make a point. His expression was unreadable, but his disappointment was clear.

I clenched my jaw, shoving down the guilt crawling up my throat. "I'll take her home."

Alex's expression darkened. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"I'll take her, Alex," I said, my voice firm, final.

His gaze flickered toward Katherine before he exhaled sharply. "You need to be careful," He warned, seeing something I didn't see, "You need to fix this before it reaches the point beyond repair."

Well, we had reached that breaking point anyway.

He turned and walked away, leaving me standing there with the weight of his words and my actions.

I dragged in a deep breath, trying to shake off the suffocating feeling gripping me before stepping toward her.

She must have sensed my presence because she slowly lifted her gaze.

Her red-rimmed eyes widened slightly in surprise, but she said nothing. Instead, she looked away and wiped at her tears, not wanting me to get a glimpse of her weakness.

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak.

"Let's go."

Her lips parted like she wanted to protest, but I cut her off before she could.

"I told Alex."

Something flickered across her face—anger, maybe, or blame—but she didn't argue. She simply stood up and walked past me toward the car.

The drive back was unbearable.

The silence was thick, suffocating, laced with all the words neither of us were willing to say.

Katherine stared out the window the entire time, lost in thought, while I kept my hands tight on the steering wheel, my grip turning my knuckles white. My mind raced with a war I couldn't win—what to say, what to do, what the hell was even left to fix.

But maybe Alex was right.

Maybe I was breaking something that would never heal. Beyond repair.

After thirty agonizing minutes, we pulled up to the house.

But neither of us moved.

We just sat there, the engine humming softly between us, both waiting for the other to break the silence.

I let out a long breath, squeezing my eyes shut for a second before finally speaking.

"If you want a divorce, Katherine. I'll give it to you."

The words felt foreign on my tongue. Heavy. Unnatural.

I kept my eyes fixed on the windshield, unable to look at her.

"The choice is in your hands now. You're free to do whatever you want."

Silence.

I still didn't look at her. Couldn't.

I forced myself to continue, pushing through the tightness in my chest.

"Tomorrow, we'll go back to LA. We'll arrive in the morning. You have a doctor's appointment that day, and then..." I hesitated. "Zoe wants us to have lunch with them."

I exhaled slowly, gripping the wheel so tightly my fingers ached.

"And after that...you can do whatever you want."

I didn't wait for her response.

I couldn't.

I pushed the door open, stepping out without looking back. If I did, I might change my mind.

And that wasn't an option.

Not anymore.

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Katherine's POV

He just threw the words in my face and left.

I sat frozen in the passenger seat, trying to make sense of it all.

He wants to give me what I want?

A divorce?

The word echoed in my head, again, and again, so cold and suffocating.

Isn't that what I wanted?

Pain clenched around my chest as the image of him kissing her resurfaced.

Is that why he doesn't want me anymore?

Most probably.

Wow. It hurts. It really fucking does.

I pressed a hand against my chest, as if I could physically stop the ache blooming beneath my ribs. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply before stepping out of the car.

Everything felt heavier—the night, the silence, the house as I walked through its doors.

My feet carried me toward my room, but something made me stop.

My eyes flickered to his door.

This isn't the marriage I dreamt of. This isn't the love I wanted.

Right?

We are not happy together.

Maybe we never will be.

Maybe he's right. Maybe leaving is the only way to stop hurting each other.

I swallowed hard and turned into my bedroom. Sitting at the edge of the bed, I pressed my forehead into my palms, willing the thoughts away.

Do I really love him?

Or is it just some cruel illusion my mind keeps spinning?

With Chase, everything was easy. God, so easy. Effortless. I knew exactly what I felt, without question, without confusion.

But with Ashton...nothing is ever clear.

I sighed, shaking my head as I stood up. I reached for the zipper at my back, struggling to reach it. My fingers kept slipping, my arms aching from the angle.

Damn it.

After a couple of failed attempts, I gave up and walked out, searching for Skyla. She had helped me into this dress earlier—maybe she could help me out of it.

I stepped into the hallway, my bare feet padding softly against the wooden floor. But as I descended the stairs, my steps faltered.

A figure moved in the dim glow of the living room.

Ashton lowered himself onto the couch, a glass resting loosely in his hand, his gaze locked onto the window as if searching for something that wasn't there.

For a second, I considered turning around. But then, almost like he felt me looking, his head turned and his gaze met mine.

His eyes—those damn eyes.

They steal my words every time.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his eyebrows pulled closer.

I swallowed hard, forcing my voice to work. "Where's Skyla?"

His expression didn't change, his tone neutral. "She left."

Oh.

"What did you want from her?"

I exhaled softly, trying to ignore the way my pulse picked up, "I, um...I need help," I said, gesturing awkwardly to my dress.

His gaze flickered over me, trailing down to the dress before meeting my eyes again.

Understanding dawned on his face.

He stood up, setting his glass down before closing the distance between us.

He stopped just inches away, his face unreadable—cold, indifferent. Like he didn't just kiss another woman. Like he hadn't shattered my heart for the thousandth time.

"Turn around," he whispered when I stayed glued in my spot.

I hesitated for a split second before I moved my body around. My hands lifted my hair to the side, baring my back to him.

I felt him edge closer, the heat of his body radiating against me—his presence suffocating in the worst and best way.

I felt his fingers brush against the fabric, slow, ever so slow as he found the zipper. The moment his fingertips grazed my skin, a shiver ran down my spine.

The zipper glided down, agonizingly slow, each inch stretching the moment, thickening the air between us—charged, electric.

My breaths turned shallow, and uneven.

He stood right behind me, close enough that his warmth bled into my skin, his scent—clean, sharp, unmistakably him—wrapping around me like a second skin.

Then, just as the fabric loosened, his fingers stilled at my shoulder.

He didn't move. He lingered.

His touch featherlight, his knuckles grazing my bare skin before sliding the shoulder of my dress down.

My pulse roared in my ears.

I didn't move. Neither did he.

Then, barely above a whisper, he murmured, "I'm going to miss you."

A wave of emotion crashed over me, stealing the air from my lungs. He knew. He already knew which choice I'd make. He knew I was leaving.

I turned slowly, my hands still holding the front of my dress against me.

His hand stayed on my shoulder, his thumb absently tracing my skin.

His eyes met mine—soft, conflicted, full of something I couldn't name.

I should have walked away.

I should have let this go.

But I didn't.

I wanted an answer. Heck, I needed an answer.

I reached up, my hand pressing lightly against his shoulder.

And then, before I could second-guess myself, before either of us could think—I kissed him.

His lips parted slightly, startled, but then he kissed me back.

The world blurred.

There was no rush, no urgency.

Only a slow, aching pull—something deep, something heartbreaking.

My fingers slid up, softly tracing his neck, and his jaw, before cupping his cheek, my thumb brushing lightly against the stubble there.

His hand tangled in my hair, threading through the strands. He tilted my face, angling me just right as he deepened the kiss, pressing himself closer—as if he could erase every bad thing between us. His mistakes. My mistakes.

His lips moved against mine, slow at first, teasing, tasting, like he was memorizing every inch of me. Then, with a quiet groan, he parted my lips, his tongue sweeping in, claiming, demanding.

I gasped against him, my fingers gripping the nape of his neck as I kissed him back, giving as much as he took. His other hand splayed against my bare back, pulling me flush against his warmth, his heat searing through the thin fabric of my dress.

This kiss...it wasn't like the one at our wedding.

It was pain and longing.

It was a goodbye we weren't ready for.

And for a fleeting moment, I let myself believe that maybe—just maybe—this wasn't the end.

Maybe we could be happy.

Maybe we could be like any other couple, but our pasts were too tangled—too messy.

I broke the kiss the moment I felt the warmth pooling in my eyes, a lump forming in my throat.

A tear slid down my cheek.

I opened my eyes.

And just like that, I had my answer.

Yes.

I love him.

I love him so much.

And I hate it.

Ashton's eyes opened too, his gaze dropping to the tear that escaped. His jaw clenched, his brows pulling together in something unreadable before his thumb brushed it away.

His touch was soft, achingly tender, and it only made the pain worse.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

His eyes met mine, questioning.

"For hurting you," I added, needing to say it, needing to let it out for once.

He exhaled sharply, his lips parting like he wanted to say something, but I spoke first.

"Today, I tasted it. I felt what it's like to be betrayed by someone you care about." My voice trembled, but I forced myself to keep going. "And it—" I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "It hurts like hell."

"Katherine—"

I shook my head. "I'm sorry," I repeated.

I looked away, needing a second to gather the courage for what I was about to say.

"When we come back from Zoe's, I want you to start working on the divorce papers."

His hand tightened slightly around my arm. Just enough for me to feel it. Just enough for me to know he didn't want to let go.

I placed my hand over his, pried it off gently, then turned to leave.

But before I could take another step, his fingers wrapped around my wrist from behind, holding me still.

I didn't turn around.

I couldn't.

I just stood there, waiting for him to say whatever he needed to say.

"I knew you were there," he murmured.

His voice was low, rough.

My breath hitched.

"I knew you were watching."

I squeezed my eyes shut. Don't say it, Ashton. You'll only make it worse.

"I didn't kiss her, Katherine," he continued, his grip tightening slightly, "I would never."

A slow, brutal ache spread through my chest, suffocating.

"I just wanted to hurt you," he admitted. "I—"

"Congratulations, then."

My voice came out low, empty, as I finally turned my head just enough to look at him.

His expression faltered.

I gave him a small, weak smile. The kind that carried no real emotion, just quiet devastation.

"Because you got what you wanted."

And with that, I pulled my wrist free and walked away.

I didn't stop.

I didn't turn back.

And as I reached my room, closing the door behind me, I finally let the rest of my tears fall.

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I barely remember the ten-hour flight. I slept through most of it—not because I was well-rested, but because exhaustion had finally won.

Or maybe because sleep was the only escape from the storm inside me.

Not that it helped much. Even in sleep, my thoughts chased me. What would happen after the divorce? Where would I go? Would Ashton even want to be in the baby's life, or would he leave, just like he seemed so ready to?

The thought made my chest tighten, but I forced it away as the car pulled up in front of the towering glass building.

We stepped out, the city still dark and quiet at six in the morning. I followed Ashton into his penthouse, the receptionist bringing in our suitcases before disappearing again.

A yawn escaped me as I took in the familiar space. It felt strange being back. Different. Like everything had changed in the last few weeks.

Ashton walked ahead, stopping near the hallway leading to my room. "The doctor's appointment is at three. I'll pick you up then." His voice was normal—calm, controlled. As if last night never happened.

I turned to face him. "You're leaving now?"

"Yeah, I have a lot of work."

No surprises there.

"Okay."

That was it. The first words we had exchanged since last night.

The tension between us was thick, but I was too drained to deal with it. So, I just nodded and walked away, closing the door behind me.

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I showered, hoping it would wash away the weight pressing on my chest. Then I crawled into bed, forcing myself into another short nap before getting ready for the appointment.

At exactly two-thirty, Ashton was back. I was already dressed, so we left immediately, the drive quiet, as usual.

When we arrived at the clinic, we were taken in right away.

The doctor greeted us with a warm smile. I was relieved it was still him—the same doctor who had been handling my case from the start. At least he knew everything.

"Alright, let's take a look," he said, motioning for me to lie down.

I sucked in a breath as the cold gel met my skin. The doctor moved the wand over my stomach, and for a moment, there was only silence. Then—

A steady, rhythmic thumping filled the room.

My heart. The baby's heartbeat.

I exhaled, a smile breaking free as my chest swelled with something indescribable. A tear slipped from the corner of my eye—this time, not from pain, but from joy.

I turned to look at Ashton.

He was staring at the screen, his expression unreadable. But I saw it—the way his eyes darkened, the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, the way his gaze flickered to my stomach then back to the screen, then back to my stomach, like he was seeing it all for the first time, understanding for the first time that our baby was actually there.

His hand found mine.

It surprised me.

The warmth of his fingers, the way he squeezed my hand tightly—almost like he needed something to hold on to.

He turned to me, his lips curving into something I hadn't seen in a long time. A real, beautiful smile.

The doctor kept talking—explaining that it was too early to determine the gender, giving instructions—but neither of us was listening.

For the first time in a long time, we were lost in our own little world.

Ashton leaned in slightly, his thumb brushing another stray tear from my cheek. His voice was quiet, almost awed when he spoke.

"We're going to be parents," He whispered, "It doesn't feel real."

I nodded, smiling back.

And for a moment...everything felt right.

I felt like the perfect wife.

He felt like the perfect husband.

We felt like a perfect family.

But the moment the thought crossed my mind, the illusion shattered.

Because none of this was real.

It was a perfect lie.

A beautiful, cruel illusion.

The sting that came with that realization settled deep in my chest, but I forced it down as I sat up, the doctor finishing his notes.

"You need to be more careful about your health," the doctor said, shifting his gaze between me and Ashton. "Make sure she eats well. If she's healthy, the baby will be."

Ashton nodded firmly. "I will."

I barely had the strength to nod.

The doctor met my eyes then, a knowing look passing between us.

I felt my breath hitch, the anxiousness creeping back in and shattering the early illusion.

"I need to use the restroom," I said suddenly, pushing myself up.

The doctor understood immediately.

"There's one inside," he said, motioning to the door behind him.

I turned to Ashton. "You can wait for me outside, if you want."

He hesitated for a second but then nodded, thanking the doctor before stepping out.

The moment the door closed, I turned back to the doctor.

"He doesn't know?" he asked quietly.

I shook my head. "Not yet."

His expression shifted, his lips pressing into a tight line.

"Katherine, did you think about what we discussed?"

"I don't have to think about it," I said, my throat burning. "I already told you my decision."

His shoulders tensed slightly, but he didn't argue. "Then you'll need to sign the consent documents."

I swallowed.

"I didn't bring them today because...I thought you might change your mind," he admitted, his voice softer now. "But next time, they'll be ready."

I nodded, the lump in my throat growing.

"Katherine," he said again, his voice gentle but firm, "Even if you sign them, you can still change your mind."

No.

I won't.

"You still have seven months to reconsider."

I shook my head. "There's nothing to reconsider."

I met his gaze, my voice quiet but unwavering.

"I'm not going to kill my baby."

The words felt heavy even as I spoke them, but I meant them with everything in me.

The doctor sighed, nodding slowly. "Okay. But you need to tell Ashton about all of this."

"I will," I lied.

His stare remained firm.

"Katherine."

"I will," I repeated.

But I wouldn't.

Not now.

And maybe...not ever.