The Runaway Astrophysicist And Her Secret

tfield, I tricked him into signing our divorce papers, disguised

. At the same time, I found Arlo doting on his childhood sweeth

to Brielle' s side, completely ignoring my pain. He was so blinded by her lies that he

r eyes glinting with victory. "Arlo and I just got the

ven looked

nd so was our child. His world was built on pow

, building a new life among the stars, far from his

found me. Bruised, broken, and desperate, he be

ld closer. "You didn't care to know," I said, my voice as cold

pte

e Pres

Hatfield Legal, a small but deliberate punctuation mark in the quiet of my planned

e y

he man who owned half the city' s skyline and, until t

ght it looked painful, barely glanced up. "Do yo

ign on my tongue. "I'm here to finalize the documents."

ed. "Mrs. Hatfield? I... forgive me. I didn't recognize you." She probably expected someone drape

, my voice steady.

thickness. "Are you certain about this, Mrs. Hatfield? Divorce is...

the moment her husband showed a flicker of attention. They didn' t know me. They didn' t know Arlo. T

I confirmed, my

ery well." She stamped a document and handed it

the finality of

s I drove through the gates, the guard gave me a perfunctory nod, his eyes alr

ht, I was the one doing the summoning. As I neared the door, a muffled laugh, distinct

with cheap perfume. Brielle. She always favored those heavy, suffocating scents. Arlo, I remembered with

ound of Brielle' s voice intensified, a low, seducti

their partnering software giant, was perched on the edge of the desk, her hand resting intimately on his arm. She was laughing, a high

s eyes, usually as sharp and unreadable as flint, widened, a flicker of something

the grant proposal for the lunar observatory project. Arlo's so busy, you know, but he

d around his eyes that hadn' t been there a few weeks ago. But they were

rate. The manila envelope crinkled in my hand. Bri

id of emotion. I placed the envelope on the desk, pushing it towa

a hint of confusion in

e as a... a guarantor, for the initial funding application. Standard procedure for spouses." My heart hammered

peface. My name, Corinne Preston, was printed clearly at the top, not C

hen I tried to discuss my research, his forgotten anniversaries, the cold bed that had been my only companion for so

e for a moment, an uncharacteristic pause. Perhaps something in the phrasing, t

stargazing hobby needs your signature? She's an astrophysicist, not a child. Aren't there more important t

weigh her words, her presence, against the mundane request from h

vements swift and decisive. With a flourish, he scrawled his signature acro

My fingers trembled slightly as I tucked it securely under my ar

t Arlo supports you, even if... well, let's be honest, scientific research isn't exactly where the real impact is made, is it?" She chuckled, a

ost perfec

of his perfect life. But years of silence, years of being overlooked, had taught me a

nse of liberation. It was done. The divorce was signed. He had sig

ll-fitting cloak. But in that moment, walking away from the casual dismissal,

a dying line of intellectuals, and the Hatfields, a rising tech dynasty. I brought intellectual prestig

s in business, and utterly detached in private. He had courted me with the precision of a corporate merger, his words always logical,

ke touching a live wire-brief, shocking, leaving me breathless and yearnin

st from his past, a bubbly, vivacious counterpoint to my quiet intensity, heir to a software empire

g event I knew he' d find fascinating. He never showed. His assistant called, saying he was "tied up with an emergency board meeting

untouched anniversary cake, something inside me had fractured

eedom from the cold indifference, the casual cruelty, the suffocating loneliness. It was freedom

A life filled with stars, not sha