Chapter 8: Divorce Agreement

Dorian's POV

"Ten million?" Atticus's eyes widened with confusion, then lit up with undisguised greed. "You have ten million dollars?"

Before I could process what was happening, Belladonna broke free from her chair and flung herself into my arms, her body trembling against mine.

"Dorian, I was so scared!" she whispered.

I wrapped my arm around Belladonna's waist automatically, but my attention remained fixed on Seraphina. Something had changed in her—colder, harder, more calculated.

"Dorian," she said, her voice eerily calm as she turned to face me, "you said you want a divorce, right? Does your offer still stand? The conditions you gave me before—are they still valid?"

I'd been demanding a divorce for months, had been crystal clear about my intentions to marry Belladonna once Seraphina was out of the picture. Yet now, with freedom within reach, I hesitated.

Belladonna must have sensed my hesitation because she tugged gently at my sleeve, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Dorian?"

I looked down at her expectant face, her eyes pleading with me not to waver now. "Yes," I replied firmly. "The offer stands."

Seraphina nodded once, then reached into her purse and pulled out a document. She extended it toward me, her expression unreadable.

"That's good to hear. Here's the divorce agreement, already signed. Give the ten million to him," she gestured toward Atticus, "and we're done. We're even."

I took the papers from her, staring at her signature at the bottom of the page. It was that simple? After all these years, after all the fighting and threats, she was just... letting go?

As Seraphina turned to leave, I felt an unexpected pang of—what? Regret? Disappointment?

"Our agreement is still valid," I called after her, not entirely sure why I was prolonging the conversation. "I'll come back. I'll stay with Isolde for a month, like we discussed."

The words tumbled out before I could stop them, and I immediately regretted them. Why was I offering to spend time with a child I'd never wanted? A child whose existence had been nothing but an inconvenience to me?

Seraphina paused but didn't turn around. "Don't bother," she said flatly. "Isolde doesn't need you anymore."

"What game are you playing, Seraphina?" I demanded, my voice hardening. "Is this your newest trick? When are you going to stop with these childish tactics?"

She turned then, and the smile she gave me sent an unexpected chill down my spine. It wasn't bitter or angry—it was almost... pitying.

Belladonna broke the moment by snatching the divorce papers from my hand, her excitement palpable. "Dorian, she's actually agreed to the divorce! She's really signed it!"

I took the document back, examining Seraphina's signature more carefully. She had actually signed the papers.

"You're the most heartless man I've ever met, Dorian," Atticus spat, glaring at me with undisguised contempt. "Send the ten million dollars to my account as soon as possible."

His words barely registered. I was still trying to understand what had just happened. This should have been a moment of triumph, yet I felt strangely hollow. The victory seemed... incomplete.

"It's over, Dorian," Belladonna whispered, her eyes shining with tears of joy. "You're free now. You're finally free, and we can be together at last."

I nodded mechanically, but my mind was elsewhere. Why wasn't I happier? Why did Seraphina's easy capitulation bother me so much?

"Yes," I replied, forcing enthusiasm into my voice. "I'm happy."

But I wasn't. Not really.

---

The house was eerily quiet when I returned to Ravencroft Manor that evening. "Astrid," I called out, my voice echoing in the empty foyer. "Where is everyone?"

Astrid appeared from the direction of the kitchen, her expression carefully neutral. "Mrs. Ravencroft has left with her belongings, sir. She said not to trouble you anymore."

"And Isolde?" I asked, a strange uneasiness settling in my stomach.

"Miss Ravencroft's things have been taken as well."

My frown deepened. So Seraphina had wasted no time in leaving. She'd been so eager to get away from me that she'd packed up and disappeared the moment the divorce papers were signed. Despite having insisted for years that she loved me, that our marriage meant something to her, she'd fled at the first opportunity.

I should have been relieved. This was what I wanted, wasn't it? Freedom from a marriage I'd never desired, from a woman I'd never loved, from a child I'd never bonded with. Yet as I looked around the empty house, something felt... wrong. The estate felt hollow, lifeless. And so did I.

I climbed the stairs slowly, half-expecting—hoping?—to find Seraphina in our bedroom, unpacking her things, ready to inform me that this had all been some elaborate test. But the master suite was immaculate and empty, devoid of her personal touches. Her perfumes, her books, her silver-backed hairbrush—all gone.

I continued down the hallway to Isolde's room, pushing open the door to find it similarly stripped of personality. The pink canopy bed remained, as did the white furniture, but the stuffed animals, the picture books, the little drawings that had once cluttered her walls—all vanished.

I ran my finger along the bookshelf, remembering how Isolde had once carved her name into the wood with a paperclip. I'd been furious, lecturing her about respecting property while Seraphina stood in the doorway, her expression torn between amusement and apology. Now, I noticed even that small mark had been sanded away and refinished, as if Isolde had never existed here at all.

The thoroughness of Seraphina's departure surprised me. She'd always been attentive to detail, but this level of... erasure seemed excessive. It was as if she'd wanted to remove any trace that she and Isolde had ever been part of this house, part of my life.

I loosened my tie with an angry jerk, tossing it to the floor as I stalked back to my study. The leather chair creaked as I sank into it, pouring myself a generous measure of scotch.

"Astrid," I called out, knowing she would be hovering nearby. "Did she say when she's coming back?"

Astrid appeared in the doorway, her hands clasped in front of her. "Mrs. Ravencroft said she won't be back, sir."

I scoffed, taking a long swallow of my drink. "Won't be back," I repeated, the words bitter on my tongue. "How very dramatic of her."

"And what about Isolde?" I asked, not entirely sure why I was asking.

"Miss Ravencroft," Astrid replied cautiously. "At this hour, she would normally be at Brightwood Schools."

Brightwood. Of course. Despite the divorce, despite everything, Isolde was still my daughter. I could go to her school, pick her up, bring her home. It would give me a reason to contact Seraphina again, to demand an explanation for her abrupt departure.

I pulled out my phone and dialed Seraphina's number, but instead of ringing, I heard an automated message: "The number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable."

"Who the hell is she talking to?" I muttered, redialing with growing irritation.

After the third attempt, Astrid cleared her throat delicately. "Sir, when the message says that, it usually means you've been blocked."

I let out a harsh laugh. "Blocked? She wouldn't dare." I shook my head, taking another sip of scotch. "She's playing a bigger game this time, isn't she?"

The phone on my desk rang, startling me. I glanced at Astrid with a smug smile. "See? She's calling back already."

I picked up the receiver, expecting to hear Seraphina's voice, ready to confront her about her childish behavior. Instead, an unfamiliar voice greeted me.

"Hello, is this the parent or guardian of Isolde Ravencroft? I'm calling from Peaceful Valley Funeral Home..."