Elara arrived at the city hall early, her heart pounding beneath her calm exterior. She wore her usual jeans and a simple top, her sunglasses concealing more than just her eyes. They hid the storm raging inside her. The media frenzy outside the building was palpable. Cameras flashed, reporters jostled for position, and the buzz of voices filled the air. Last night’s revelations had ignited a firestorm. Caleb Morgan, the country’s most eligible bachelor, wasn’t just married—he was getting divorced. The news had thrown the media into a frenzy, turning what should have been a private moment into a public spectacle.

Elara walked through the chaos unnoticed. The reporters weren’t looking for someone like her. They were scanning the crowd for a woman who fit the image of Mrs. Morgan: glamorous, high-class, someone who looked as though she belonged in Caleb’s world. She almost wanted to laugh at their ignorance. If only they knew that Caleb Morgan’s wife was just a plain, ordinary woman—a placeholder in a marriage that never should have existed.

As she passed them, the weight of the moment pressed on her, but not in the way she had expected. Her thoughts drifted back to the day she became Mrs. Morgan—a title that had brought her nothing but pain. Four years ago, when she married Caleb, there had been no celebration. No ceremony. Not a single guest. Not even her husband.

The memory struck her like a blow. She remembered standing in a dull office, staring at the cold, empty space beside her where Caleb should have been. Instead of vows, she’d signed papers delivered by his PA, her trembling hand betraying the hope she had still harbored in her heart. Caleb hadn’t even bothered to show up. The marriage license had been processed with efficiency, like a business transaction, leaving her alone to wonder if this was how love ended before it even began.

And now, here she was, at the end of that lifeless union, surrounded by cameras and strangers. The irony was almost cruel. Four years ago, she’d walked into marriage unnoticed, with no one to stand beside her—not even Caleb. Today, as she walked toward its conclusion, the whole world seemed to be watching, eager to dissect her heartbreak for entertainment.

A bitter smile tugged at her lips as she climbed the steps to the building. So, this is how it ends, she thought. The hope that had once filled her heart had long since withered, replaced by a cold, resigned determination. Caleb Morgan would never care for her. He never had. Today was about reclaiming herself, piece by piece, from the ruins of a marriage that had taken so much and given nothing in return.

But as she stepped through the doors, she couldn’t stop the ache in her chest. It wasn’t just the end of a marriage; it was the end of a dream she’d once dared to believe in. I’ll sign the papers. I’ll walk away. And I’ll never look back, she told herself, her fingers trembling as she removed her sunglasses. For the first time in years, she felt like she was walking toward her freedom, even if it came at the cost of her shattered heart.

.

.

.

Elara sat in the waiting area, her fingers tightly clasped around the envelope containing the divorce papers she had already signed. Her heart was heavy, but her face remained calm, her composed demeanor betraying nothing of the turmoil within. She had prepared for this moment, practiced her words, steeled her nerves. But as she heard the growing murmurs and whispers from outside the hall, her pulse quickened. She knew what—or rather, who—was causing the commotion.

Caleb Morgan walked in, his presence commanding the room without effort. Dressed immaculately, exuding his usual air of high-class sophistication, he moved with the grace of someone who owned the world. Elara felt a strange pang in her chest. He looked just as untouchable as the day she had first met him. The same Caleb Morgan who had once been her husband, and yet, in every way that mattered, had never truly belonged to her.

He stopped in front of her, his sharp eyes taking her in. She stood, meeting his gaze with quiet determination. She held out the envelope, her fingers steady.

"These are the papers," she said softly.

"You can check them. They're the same ones I gave you before. I’ve made no changes—they still state that I’m not asking for anything from you or the Morgan family.”

Caleb took the envelope, his eyes not leaving hers as he opened it. After scanning the papers, he looked back at her, his voice tinged with incredulity.

“Are you serious?”

Elara smiled faintly, but there was no warmth in it.

“I was always serious about you, Mr. Morgan. It was you who never took me seriously.”

Her words hit harder than he expected. The way she addressed him as Mr. Morgan stung, stripping away any semblance of intimacy that had once existed between them. But it was her calm detachment, her eagerness to sever their bond, that stirred something deeper—an unfamiliar ache he couldn’t name.

Still, Caleb masked his emotions behind his usual impassive expression. He signed the papers without a word, each stroke of the pen feeling heavier than it should. He handed the papers to his PA, his reluctance hidden beneath his polished exterior. In his mind, a voice whispered, Who am I? I am Caleb Morgan. I don’t need anyone. Everyone needs me.

But the weight in his chest didn’t ease.

The process moved swiftly. They stood before the official, who asked the crucial question:

“Do you both mutually agree to this divorce?”

Elara answered first, her voice calm and steady.

“Yes, I agree.”

Caleb turned to look at her, his jaw tightening. Her unwavering resolve sparked a flicker of anger, a frustration he didn’t fully understand. But he answered as well, his voice clipped.

“Yes.”

And just like that, it was done. Within moments, they held their divorce certificates in hand—a simple document signifying the end of a marriage that had been anything but simple.

Elara stared at the certificate, a small smile playing on her lips. From a distance, one might think it was a smile of relief, of triumph. But up close, her eyes told a different story. They were heavy with sadness, brimming with emotions she refused to let spill over. For her, this certificate was both freedom and a farewell—a bittersweet conclusion to a chapter she had once dreamed would be beautiful.

Caleb, meanwhile, barely glanced at the paper in his hand. His focus was entirely on Elara. Her composed demeanor, her apparent ease in walking away from him—it unnerved him more than he wanted to admit. He felt something stir within him, a feeling that was foreign, unsettling. He didn’t understand it, but it left him rooted to the spot, unable to tear his eyes away from her.

Elara, oblivious to his gaze, carefully placed the certificate into her bag. Without sparing him a second glance, she turned and walked away, her steps steady, her back straight. She didn’t look back, not even once.

Caleb stood there, watching her retreating figure. His hand tightened around the certificate, the paper crinkling slightly under the force of his grip. For the first time in years, he felt as though he had lost something—something he hadn’t even realized he valued until it was no longer his.

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.

.

As the doors of the civil affairs office swung open, reporters outside surged forward, eager to capture the scoop of the day. They expected to catch a glimpse of Mrs. Morgan, the mysterious woman who had disrupted the nation's bachelor king’s image. Instead, they saw Caleb Morgan, his jaw tight and his expression stormy, striding out with his assistant Mason Clark trailing close behind.

“Mr. Morgan, is it true you’ve finalized your divorce with Mrs. Morgan?” one reporter called out.

Caleb stopped abruptly, his eyes narrowing as his barely-contained frustration boiled over.

“No comments,” he snapped, his voice sharp enough to silence the crowd momentarily.

“Mr. Morgan, who is Mrs. Morgan? We didn’t see her enter!” another added.

"How is this any of your damn fucking business?" Caleb’s voice thundered, sharp and unyielding, slicing through the chaos like a blade. His fists clenched at his sides, his eyes blazing with fury as he fixed the reporters with a glare that could freeze fire. The porch fell into an uneasy silence, the once-confident voices now swallowed by the weight of his anger.

"You think you can pry into my life like it’s some open book? Think again."

Each word landed like a blow, leaving the reporters stunned, their questions hanging lifeless in the air.

Before anyone could press further, he stalked off toward his car. Mason, quick on his feet, ensured the bodyguards kept the reporters at bay while Caleb climbed into the vehicle.

Inside the car, Caleb sat stiffly, his gaze fixed out the window. The engine hummed, but he didn’t give the order to move. Mason, seated in the front, noticed the unusual silence and hesitated before glancing back. He followed Caleb’s intense stare to see what—or who—had captured his boss’s attention. His eyes landed on Elara, standing a few feet away on the footpath, her figure partially obscured by the lingering crowd. She looked tense, clearly struggling to hail a cab amidst the chaos.

Mason hesitated, then cautiously broke the silence.

“Sir, would you like me to help Mrs. Morgan out there?”

The air inside the car turned icy as Caleb shot Mason a glare that could freeze fire.

“Mind your own business, Mason,” Caleb bit out coldly.

Mason swallowed hard, nodding quickly, and faced forward again. Caleb’s curt command to drive was finally given, and the car began to move. But just a few meters down the road, Caleb’s voice cut through the quiet again.

“Stop.”

The driver obeyed immediately. Caleb’s fingers drummed against his knee before he ordered tersely, “Go and bring her.”

Mason froze, his eyes darting to the rearview mirror in disbelief. “Sir?”

“You heard me,” Caleb said, his tone dangerously low.

Mason didn’t need to be told twice. Scrambling out of the car, he hurried toward Elara, mentally preparing for what could only be another awkward encounter.

“Ma’am,” he began, calling out to her. “Mrs. Morgan.”

Elara turned at the sound of her old title, her eyes landing on Mason. She sighed lightly and gave him a small smile.

“Mr. Clark,” she corrected gently, “I believe it’s Ms. Quinn now.”

Mason hesitated, fumbling over his words as he continued, “Uh… right. Ms. Quinn. Sir asked me to escort you back to the car.”

Elara’s smile didn’t falter, but it turned a shade colder. Her eyes flicked to the sleek car parked just down the road, the tinted windows concealing Caleb inside. She could feel his gaze on her, even if she couldn’t see it. Turning back to Mason, she said firmly, “Mr. Clark, kindly relay this message to Mr. Morgan:

"As we are now divorced, I believe it’s best for him to treat me as a stranger to avoid any unnecessary scandals in the future.”

With that, Elara turned and walked away, her strides confident despite the chaos around her. Mason stood frozen for a moment, his mind racing. He looked from Elara’s retreating figure.

“How do I even…,” he muttered to himself before sighing deeply and heading back to the vehicle.

Once inside, he settled into his seat cautiously, avoiding Caleb’s icy stare. “Sir,” he began hesitantly, “Ms. Quinn… refused to come over.”

Caleb’s voice cut through the tense silence like a blade.

“I’m not blind, Mason.”

Mason flinched. Of course Caleb had seen her walk away.

“What did she say?” Caleb pressed, his tone sharper now.

Mason’s palms went clammy as he tried to steady himself. Why do I always get caught between these type of scenarios? he thought miserably. Taking a deep breath, he repeated Elara’s exact words.

“Ms. Quinn said… that as you are now divorced, it’s best for you to treat her as a stranger to avoid any unwanted scandals in the future.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Caleb’s jaw tightened, his grip on the armrest rigid. Mason dared a glance at him in the mirror and immediately regretted it. Caleb’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes were burning with something Mason couldn’t quite place—anger, hurt, or perhaps both.

“Never mention her again,” Caleb said finally, his voice cold and final. “Drive.”

Mason exhaled shakily, relieved the conversation was over. But as the car rolled forward, he couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, “If I survive these type of situations, I deserve a raise.”

From the backseat, Caleb’s voice cut in, low and menacing.

“I heard that, Mason.”

Mason sat up straight, swallowing hard.

“I’ll just… mind my own business, sir.”