The gold pen felt strangely heavy in my hand.

When I finished signing the divorce papers, the grandfather clock in the mediator’s office struck exactly nine in the morning. I had expected tears, screaming, maybe even pain sharp enough to break me open.

Instead, there was only emptiness.

My name is Sarah. I am thirty-four years old, a mother of two, and eight minutes earlier, I officially ended my ten-year marriage to Bradley—the man who once promised to protect me forever.

Before the ink had even dried, his phone rang.

He answered without leaving the room.

“Yes, babe,” he said softly, using a voice he had never once used with me. “I’m almost done here. Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten the ultrasound. Mom and the family will meet us there. Your baby is the heir, after all.”

I kept my face still.

The mediator looked uncomfortable and pushed the final documents toward Bradley.