They Called Me Barren, I Married A Billionaire

“I'm sorry. I can't drink.”

Every glass paused midair.

Marion turned toward the voice.

Nadia sat beside Julian, her wine untouched, her hands folded in her lap. She was Julian's childhood friend, a constant presence at family gatherings, familiar enough that her attendance tonight hadn't seemed unusual.

Celeste lowered her glass. “Why not?”

Nadia smiled, shy and almost embarrassed, then rested a hand over her stomach.

“Because I'm pregnant.”

Silence.

Then the table erupted.

Thomas Hart had been halfway through a toast to Julian's latest business deal. Now his face glowed with a different kind of pride. He reached across the table to shake his son's hand, his voice thick with emotion.

“A grandchild. Julian, my boy. You've made me so proud.”

Eleanor pushed back her chair with a cry of delight. She rounded the table and cupped Nadia's face in her hands.

“Finally. We've been waiting so long.”

Celeste laughed and rushed to embrace Nadia.

“I can't believe it! This is wonderful news!”

Marion didn't move.

She was staring at Julian.

He wasn't surprised.

He was smiling, a strange, relieved smile. When his eyes met hers for a moment, she saw something she couldn't name.

He already knew.

“How long have you known?” Marion asked.

Her voice was quiet, barely audible above the celebration.

The laughter and chatter faded.

Julian's smile disappeared, but he didn't answer.

Marion looked around the table.

Thomas suddenly found his wineglass fascinating. Eleanor's expression had become guarded. Celeste stepped away from Nadia and folded her arms.

They weren't surprised.

Everyone had known except her.

Marion's stomach turned as she looked at her own parents. Patricia was staring down at her plate. Robert watched her with an expression that was almost resigned.

“Is the baby yours?” Marion asked.

Julian looked directly at her.

“Yes.”

No hesitation. No apology.

Marion's throat tightened.

“We've been trying for years, Julian.”

The words came out raw.

“Years.”

Eleanor's voice cut through the silence.

“And we've waited long enough.”

Marion turned toward her.

Eleanor's face was calm and composed. There was no anger in it, only a quiet certainty that somehow made her words worse.

“The Hart family needs an heir,” Eleanor said.

Her hand came to rest on Nadia's stomach.

“You can't blame us for wanting a child, Marion.”

Wanting a child.

As if Marion hadn't spent years wanting exactly that.

As if she hadn't cried in bathrooms, swallowed vitamins and scheduled intimacy like a business meeting, desperate to give Julian the child everyone expected.

She couldn't speak.

She stared at Eleanor's hand resting on Nadia's stomach and felt the last of her hope go still.

Then Julian reached beside his plate.

Marion watched, almost detached, as his fingers closed around a manila envelope. He slid it across the table toward her.

The paper whispered against the white tablecloth before stopping beside her wineglass.

“We're getting divorced,” Julian said.

Marion stared at the envelope.

Her name was already printed on the front, her full legal name typed in crisp black letters.

She looked up.

“You brought divorce papers to your family's dinner?”

“I've already made my decision.”

The room fell silent again.

Everyone was watching her, waiting to see what she would do.

Celeste spoke, her voice bright and practical.

“We'll have to decide when to announce the engagement. Timing is everything with these things.”

“Celeste.” Thomas's voice sharpened. “Not now.”

But the damage was done.

The engagement.

Marion looked at Julian, at the man who had stood beside her in a church six years ago and promised to love her until death.

“You're getting engaged?”

He didn't answer.

That silence told her everything.

The woman sitting beside him wasn't merely his childhood friend anymore.

She was already being positioned as Marion's replacement.

His new wife.

The mother of his heir.

Marion looked around the table.

Eleanor's hand was still resting on Nadia's stomach. Thomas was studying his wineglass. Celeste had suddenly become very interested in the tablecloth.

Nobody defended her.

Marion turned to her parents.

“Say something, Mum.”

Patricia's expression was pained, but she remained silent.

Robert wouldn't meet her eyes.

“Dad?”

The word came out smaller than Marion intended.

Robert cleared his throat.

“Marion, don't make a scene.”

The words hurt more than she expected.

Patricia reached across the table and covered Marion's hand with hers.

“We'll discuss everything at home, darling. Just don't make things difficult.”

Marion looked down at her mother's hand, at the perfectly manicured nails and the thin gold wedding band.

She understood.

Her parents weren't going to fight Julian either.

Julian pushed the envelope slightly closer.

Marion stood so abruptly that her chair crashed backward onto the floor.

The sound shattered the silence.

She didn't scream.

She didn't slap Julian.

She didn't give them the satisfaction of watching her fall apart.

She simply turned and walked away.

The divorce papers remained on the table.

“Marion!”

Her mother's voice followed her, sharp with panic.

Marion kept walking.

She was halfway down the front path when footsteps hurried after her.

“Marion, wait. Please.”

Patricia caught up, her face flushed, her eyes bright with distress.

“Your father's bringing the car around. Come on, darling. Let's go home.”

For the first time that evening, relief touched Marion.

Her mother had followed her.

She had left that table and come after her.

Her father was bringing the car.

They were taking her home, back to the place where she had grown up.

Maybe everything wasn't lost.

Marion allowed herself to be led toward the driveway.

Robert's car was already idling there, its headlights cutting through the darkness.

She climbed into the back seat without a word.

The door closed behind her.

They drove away in silence.

Marion stared out the window as the Hart house grew smaller behind them. She was shaking, but she didn't cry.

She waited for comfort.

For anger on her behalf.

For anything that would remind her that she wasn't completely alone.

Her father spoke first.

“You need to cooperate with the divorce.”

Marion's head snapped up.

“What?”

Robert's eyes met hers in the rearview mirror.

“Our family has significant business interests connected to the Harts. A messy divorce could damage those interests.”

Marion stared at him.

“That's why you came after me?”

Patricia turned in her seat, her expression gentle but firm.

“We're trying to think about what's best for everyone.”

“What about what's best for me?”

Her mother looked away.

Robert's jaw tightened.

“Julian has made his decision, and you need to accept it.”

“What about what he did to me?”

Neither parent answered.

Marion looked at the back of her father's head, then at the familiar curve of her mother's shoulder.

They weren't going to protect her.

They were going to protect their business.

“Stop the car.”

Robert kept driving.

“Marion, calm down.”

“Stop the car.”

Her voice shook.

Robert sighed.

“Don't be ridiculous.”

“Stop the goddamn car!”

The car pulled over with a jerk.

Marion fumbled with the door handle and stumbled out onto the roadside.

Cool night air struck her face.

She stood beneath a flickering streetlight, one hand gripping the door for balance.

For a moment, she thought her mother might get out and come after her.

Instead, the passenger window rolled down.

Robert's hand emerged, holding the manila envelope.

He tossed it onto the roadside.

The envelope struck the asphalt. The papers spilled across the ground.

“Don't make things difficult for all of us because of your pride,” he said.

Marion stared at him.

Robert's expression remained hard.

“Remember, we have business with the Harts.”

The window rolled up.

The car pulled away.

Marion stood beneath the streetlight, watching the taillights disappear into the darkness.

The night was quiet.

In the distance, she could hear the hum of traffic and the whisper of wind through the trees.

She looked down at the divorce papers scattered around her shoes.

Then she knelt and gathered them one by one.

Her hands were shaking.

Her eyes remained dry.

For six years, she'd tried to be the perfect Hart wife. She'd smiled when she was tired, laughed when she was hurting and bent herself into every shape they demanded.

Tonight, they had made one thing clear.

She was no longer wanted.

Marion straightened, clutching the papers to her chest.

She would sign them.

She wouldn't take Julian's money.

She wouldn't beg him to reconsider.

She would walk away from the Hart family with nothing but what belonged to her.

Asteria.

The divorce papers were still clutched in her hand when she walked through the door.

The house was quiet. It was always quiet now. It had been for months, if she was honest with herself. She'd just stopped noticing.

Marion walked through the rooms without turning on the lights. Past the living room where she'd hosted dinner parties for Julian's colleagues. Past the study where he'd spent more and more evenings, claiming work, claiming exhaustion, claiming anything that kept him away from her.

She went to the bedroom.

Her wedding ring caught the moonlight as she moved. She looked at it for a long moment—the diamond, the gold band, the promise it represented.

She pulled the ring off and set it on the nightstand beside the divorce papers.

The marriage ended before she signed anything.

She pulled a suitcase from the closet and opened it on the bed. Then she started sorting through her things.