Too Meek For High Society, Too Deadly To Cross

The hospital room was stark and white, steeped in the sharp, sterile scent of disinfectant.

Natalia Gordon faced the man she had loved for three years, her gaze steady, her voice emptied of warmth or hesitation. "We should divorce, Alexander."

Alexander Douglas had been yanking at his tie in irritation. At her words, his hand stalled and his head snapped up, disbelief spreading across his handsome features. "What did you say?"

He moved toward her, accusation creeping into his tone. "Is this because I took Aimee out first when the robbery turned into a riot at the mall? She's your cousin, Natalia. When did you start being this unreasonable?"

A deep furrow formed on his brow, impatience clear in his eyes. "Do you have any idea what Aimee went through as a child? She was kidnapped trying to protect me. She still carries that trauma. In that kind of chaos, if I hadn't gotten her out immediately, she would have fallen apart."

Natalia smiled then, but the curve of her lips carried no warmth.

"Then what about me?" The words left her quietly, as though she were not truly expecting an answer. "I am your wife. The one being crushed in the crowd beside you, the one barely able to breathe, was me. As my husband, you chose to leave me behind for another woman, and you truly believe that's justified?"

Impatience crept back into Alexander's voice, thinly veiled and sharp. "But you're standing here just fine, aren't you?"

His eyes swept over her dismissively, as though assessing a minor inconvenience rather than his wife. "Aimee is different. She's still shaking in the room next door. Enough, Natalia. Stop making a scene."

With that final remark, he turned away, his steps decisive, not a trace of hesitation in his retreat.

The door opened, then closed, the sound echoing loudly in the sterile room.

Natalia stayed where she was, arms slack at her sides as her fingers slowly curled inward, nails biting into her palms until the pain grounded her.

Fragments of the mall chaos replayed in her mind, stretched and distorted like a scene trapped in slow motion. Screams. Panicked cries. The deafening crash of shelves collapsing under the weight of fear.

She had been standing on Alexander's left, and before she could stop herself, her hand lifted toward him on instinct alone.

Yet, his hand was already clasped tightly around Aimee Wallace, his grip firm and unquestioning.

His eyes swept past Natalia without pause, without recognition, as though she were no longer within his field of vision.

From beginning to end, the only person he truly saw was Aimee.

Without turning his head or looking back even once, he dragged Aimee out of the surging, panicked crowd. Natalia remained where she was, abandoned behind him amid the chaos.

At that instant, a vibration pulsed through her phone. The sharp buzz tore her out of the memory before it could finish consuming her.

Her phone screen lit up with a message from an unfamiliar number, an image attached beneath it.

She opened it almost mechanically.

A pregnancy test filled the screen, Aimee's name printed clearly beside the result, the implication striking Natalia with brutal clarity.

Below the image was a single text, deliberate and unmistakably provocative. "Alexander said he doesn't love you. He wants a child with me instead."

A sharp glint of self-directed ridicule crossed Natalia's gaze.

So that was the reason behind everything. It explained why Alexander had never been intimate with her in the three years they had been married. It also explained why, whenever the family mentioned children, he redirected the conversation to his work. It was not a lack of desire for a child. He simply did not want one with her.

Her expression did not change as she captured the screen and stored the image away. Without hesitation, she placed a call. "Carson, I need the divorce papers sent to Room 202, Egonio Medical Center."

Silence stretched briefly on the other end before Carson Williams answered, "That can be done."

She ended the call, and almost immediately, her phone vibrated again.

A group chat that had stayed quiet for three years resurfaced.

The name "Task Force Prime" appeared bold and unapologetically aggressive.

Carson typed, "Well, look who finally decided to show up. You've been gone for three years because of a man, and the first thing you do when you show up again is file for divorce? And what happened to that whole idea of wanting to experience some ordinary kind of love?"

Natalia's fingers paused briefly over the screen before moving with unhurried precision. She typed back, "It's done. Not worth another second of my time."

Carson responded without delay, his tone shifting, "Now that sounds like you. Then the timing couldn't be better. Are you ready to take on a job? A top-tier encrypted file was stolen from the organization. The last confirmed trace points to Egonio, Khustin. This assignment has been sitting untouched for half a month. No one dared to pick it up. What do you say? Feel like coming back and reminding everyone exactly what you can do?"

A sharp glimmer surfaced in Natalia's eyes.

That location was no coincidence. It was precisely where she was standing now.

She sent a single reply. "I'm in."

Thirty minutes later, a freshly printed stack of divorce papers rested firmly in Natalia's hands.

She turned without slowing and approached the door of the adjacent hospital room, pushing it open decisively.

Inside, Alexander stood close to the bed, carefully adjusting the blanket around Aimee while murmuring soft reassurances.

The sound of the door drew their attention, and both of them looked up at once.

Natalia disregarded the fragile, pleading expression on Aimee's face and walked straight toward Alexander.

The divorce papers struck the bedside cabinet with a crisp, jarring smack.

"Alexander," she said evenly. "Sign them."