Chapter 58: Patience
The tires screeched against the slick asphalt as Kian’s sedan pulled away from the curb, merging into the afternoon traffic with a sharp, aggressive engine roar.
From across the street, sitting behind the wheel of her idling SUV, Alice watched the red taillights vanish around the corner. Her hands gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white. Her breath came fast, rattling in her chest.
She slammed her palm against the leather interior. "Dammit!"
Her mind was spinning, trying to make sense of what she had just seen. Kian had no reason to be here. None.
He didn’t come to this district for casual lunches, and he certainly didn’t visit law firms for his company. She managed his schedule.
She handled his business affairs. If there was a corporate matter requiring legal representation, she would have been the first person to know.
Which meant this wasn’t about work.
It was about Isabella. It was about the divorce.
Fumbling with her purse, Alice pulled out her phone and dialed. She pressed the speaker button, setting the device on the passenger seat as it rang.
"Did you find him?" the voice on the other end answered, calm and steady.
"I saw him," Alice snapped, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and disbelief. "He just came out of the building. It’s just as I suspected. He went to a law firm. A heavy-hitting litigation firm."
"Alice, listen to me—"
"No! You don’t get it!" she cut in, her eyes wide as she stared at the empty street where Kian’s car had been seconds ago.
"He isn’t signing the papers. He’s hiring people. He’s fighting it! Why is he fighting it? He doesn’t even want her! He’s been treating her like an afterthought for months, and now that she finally leaves, he decides to pull a stunt like this?"
"Keep calm," the voice instructed gently. "Do not do anything reckless. Jumping to conclusions right now won’t help you."
"Keep calm?" Alice let out a harsh, bitter laugh. "I’ve been calm for years! I sat back and waited. I played the supportive friend, the good employee, the patient option while he dragged his feet in a dead marriage. I waited for this exact moment. And now that it’s here, he’s throwing a wrench into everything!"
"If you make a scene now, you will push him away," the voice warned. "Just observe for a while. Let the legal process play out. See what his actual move is before you start a fire."
Alice squeezed her eyes shut. She hated hearing logic when her chest felt like it was going to burst. She took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to force the rising panic down.
"Fine," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Fine. But I’m not going to sit around forever."
She hung up, tossed the phone back into her bag, and shifted her car into drive. She pulled out into the street, her jaw set tight, the anger still burning hot behind her eyes.
High above the street, the air inside Arthur’s office was heavy with the thick, blue smoke of a freshly lit cigarette.
Arthur stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the street below. He exhaled a long trail of smoke, watching the tiny cars crawl like insects. Behind him, the double doors clicked open.
His clerk, a sharp-eyed young woman holding a thick manila folder, stepped into the room. She paused, glancing at the empty leather chair across from Arthur’s desk before walking over.
"Mr. Carter has left the building," she said quietly.
Arthur didn’t turn around. He just took another slow drag. "Good."
"Should I prepare the standard response package?" she asked, opening her folder and clicking a pen. "We’ll need to enter our formal appearance with the court and send notification to Mrs. Carter’s legal counsel."
"Do that," Arthur said, his voice low and gravelly. "Contest the petition entirely. We are not consenting to the divorce, nor are we accepting any of the proposed terms."
The clerk paused, her pen hovering over the paper. She looked up, a faint frown touching her lips. "I reviewed the initial petition from her side before Mr. Carter arrived. She isn’t asking for alimony. She isn’t asking for assets, real estate, or stock options. She’s asking for a clean break. Nothing."
Arthur finally turned around, leaning his hip against the edge of the glass table. "Nothing at all."
"Not even a settlement?" she pushed, genuinely puzzled. "Most high-profile separations like this turn into a bloody mess over money. If she wants nothing, signing the papers would end this in a week. Why is he digging his heels in?"
Arthur blew a thin cloud of gray smoke toward the ceiling. "Because it was never about the money."
"Then what is it?" The clerk hesitated, picking her words carefully. "Does Mr. Kian want to save his marriage?"
Arthur looked at the door Kian had walked out of minutes ago. His eyes narrowed slightly, a thoughtful, quiet expression settling onto his weathered face.
"I think Mr. Kian wants something," Arthur murmured softly.
"What?"
"I don’t think he knows yet," Arthur replied, shaking his head. "He thinks he’s walking into a room to claim what belongs to him. He thinks this is a matter of pride. But a man doesn’t hire this firm just to save his ego."
He tapped the ash from his cigarette into a glass tray. "File the paperwork. Let her lawyers know we’re turning this into a war."
The clerk nodded, closing her folder with a soft thud. "Right away, sir."
...
The drive back to the Kazarov estate was long, heavy, and quiet.
Inside the back of the sleek black car, the only sound was the soft hum of the engine and the faint patter of rain starting to hit the windows. Isabella sat near the door, her head turned toward the glass, staring out into a world she couldn’t see.
Her face was pale, her eyes raw and swollen from crying. Her nose was still faint red, and every breath she took felt heavy, like her chest was full of wet sand. The reveal of her pregnancy, the sudden crash of reality, it had completely drained her.
Sitting beside her, Aaron kept his hands folded in his lap. He looked at her every few seconds. He saw the way her fingers trembled where they rested on her knees, the way her shoulders dipped with exhaustion. Every instinct in him wanted to say something, to fix it, to offer some kind of comfort.
But he knew better. He knew when words were just noise.
Instead, he reached over, picked up a soft wool blanket resting on the middle seat, and gently unfolded it. He laid it across her lap, taking care not to startle her.
Isabella blinked, feeling the warmth settle over her legs. She didn’t turn her head, but her fingers reached out and touched the edge of the fabric.
"You don’t have to talk," Aaron said softly, his voice low and smooth against the quiet hum of the car.
Isabella swallowed hard, her throat feeling tight. "I know," she whispered.
That was all. Aaron didn’t press. He leaned back, letting the rest of the ride pass in a merciful, easy silence until the heavy iron gates of the estate swung open to welcome them home.
When the car stopped, Aaron stepped out first and held the door, reaching out to give her his hand. Isabella took it, letting him steady her as she stepped onto the gravel driveway.
They walked together into the grand main foyer, the high ceilings amplifying the soft sound of their footsteps.
"Oh, you guys are back already!"
Finn’s loud, bright voice echoed from the living room before he even came into view. A second later, the teenager bounded into the hallway, practically vibrating with energy.
He was wearing a dark green athletic polo, white shorts, and sneakers, his hair slightly messy as if he had already been running around the house.
Behind him, walking with a slow, deliberate pace, was Freya.
She wore a matching tennis outfit, a pleated white skirt and a dark green top, with a light sweater draped over her shoulders. She held a tennis racket casually under her arm, looking completely unbothered by Finn’s excitement. Sitting on the sofa behind her, wearing a little red ribbon on his collar, was Mr. Cheese, who let out a lazy ’meow’.
Aaron stopped, his eyes drifting over his kids’ outfits.
"You’re already dressed," Aaron noted, his voice flat.
"Obviously!" Finn grinned, bouncing on his heels. "We have to be ready!"
Aaron checked his wristwatch. "You aren’t leaving for another forty minutes."
"I know."
"Then why are you dressed?"
"Because I have self-respect," Finn declared, crossing his arms with a smug grin. "And because I need to make sure my gear is ready."
Freya rolled her eyes, adjusting the racket under her arm. She didn’t say a word, but her gaze shifted over to Isabella, taking in her swollen eyes and pale face.
Aaron sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I’m not going."
The smile vanished from Finn’s face instantly. "What? What do you mean you’re not going?"