The next week we returned. The proceedings began. The judge looked tired but determined. "We’re here to finalize the division of assets and clarify ownership of the company, especially considering the complications of the divorce settlement."

Solace's lawyer rose first. Confident. Cocky. "Your Honor, as per the previous agreement, Mr. Solace retains full ownership of Mrs Ella's Shares of the firm Charles owns."

The judge nodded, then turned to my side. Charles stood, a small stack of papers in his hand.

"Your Honor, before we proceed, I have something to submit."

Solace turned to his lawyer, confused. His lawyer seemed unbothered, at first. Probably thought we were bluffing.

Charles handed the documents to the clerk, who passed them to the judge.

"These documents," Charles began, his voice clear, strong, "reflect the recent restructuring of the company. Mrs. Ella has legally transferred all her shares and responsibilities to another partner. Effective immediately, she no longer has any legal ties to the company."

This was the plan we came up with yesterday to cripple Solace's legal move.

A silence fell. Solace’s smirk faltered.

"What the hell is this?" he hissed.

His lawyer snatched the documents from the clerk, flipping through the pages. Panic started crawling across his face.

"This... this can’t be right. This wasn’t disclosed to us."

"It didn’t have to be," Charles said. "Ella had every right to relinquish ownership as she saw fit. You assumed she would cling to the company, but you assumed wrong."

The judge read the documents slowly, carefully. Then I looked at Solace.

"Mr. Solace, it appears your ex-wife has legally separated herself from the company. I see no clause preventing such a move."

Solace rose from his seat. "No. No, this isn’t happening. She can’t do this."

"She just did," I said, finally finding my voice.

Solace turned to me. "You lied to me."

"No," I replied. "You lied to me. For years. About everything. This? This is just me finding peace."

His face twisted. "So you think you’ve won? By Chickening out?"

"You tore it down long before I did," I said quietly.

The judge banged the gavel. "That’s enough. We are not here for emotional arguments. If there are no other legal challenges, the documents stand."

Charles and I exchanged a glance and signed the papers. It was done.

We stepped out of the courtroom, the air outside crisp and light. We walked down the marble steps, hand in hand.

But of course, it wasn’t over yet.

Solace caught up with us at the bottom of the stairs. He was fuming.

"You think this is over? I will drag you through court until you’re bleeding. I will prove that this restructuring is fake. That you sold your shares under duress. That this whole thing is a setup."

Charles stood in front of me, blocking his path. "Back off. You've lost."

Solace sneered at him. "Oh, please. You think she loves you? She will always be mine)

Charles’ jaw tensed. But I stepped forward, brushing his arm gently.

"Not yours, Solace. Never again."

Solace tried to shove past Charles, but court security had already started approaching. One of them held up a hand.

"Sir, calm down. You need to leave."

"You can’t take my wife!" Solace yelled, as they gently restrained him.

"She’s not your wife anymore," Charles said calmly.

They ushered Solace away, still shouting threats that meant nothing.

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

"You okay?" Charles asked.

I nodded. Tears welled up in my eyes, but they weren’t from sadness. Relief, maybe. Or the fact that I could finally breathe.

We drove back to Charles' apartment. Quiet, comfortable silence filled the car.

Later that evening, we stood by the window, watching the city lights. My fingers curled around his.

"Thank you," I whispered.

He turned to me. "For what?"

"For helping me take my life back."

He kissed my forehead. "You did that yourself. I was just lucky to watch."

As the night folded into darkness, I knew this chapter was closed. And tomorrow? Tomorrow was mine to write.

That night, I couldn’t eat much. Everything smelled too strong. Even Charles’ cologne made my stomach turn. At first, I brushed it off—maybe it was stress, or maybe the wave of emotions had just worn me out. But the nausea didn’t stop. I’d barely slept. The next morning, I rushed out of bed straight to the bathroom and threw up everything I hadn’t even eaten.

Charles looked concerned. “Ella… are you okay?”

I nodded too quickly. “Just… nerves. Or maybe something I ate.”

But even I didn’t believe myself. I was too tired, too heavy, and way too sensitive to smell and light.

We drove down to a quiet private clinic. No paparazzi, no questions. Just peace and privacy.

I sat on the little padded bed in the exam room, fingers clenched together, while the nurse came in with the results.

She smiled.

“You’re about six weeks pregnant, ma’am.”

I blinked. “I’m… what?”

Charles stood and hugged me in excitement.

The nurse nodded gently. “Yes. Congratulations.”

We needed air. We needed space. Just a moment to breathe before the next chapter began.

“Let’s get away,” Charles said the next morning. “Just a few days. Somewhere quiet. Just us.”

It felt like a dream. We packed lightly, left phones behind, and took a short flight to a quiet, sunlit town by the sea. It wasn’t flashy. Just peaceful.

For two days, we walked the beach. We talked about baby names. We kissed beneath string lights and ate seafood under the stars. For the first time in forever, I imagined a future—one where pain didn’t sit at the table like an uninvited guest. One where maybe, just maybe, I could be happy again.

But the storm always comes.

On the third morning, we were getting ready for a spa session when a knock came on the hotel room door. Charles answered it, casually, wearing a towel around his waist.

Two men in black suits stood there.

“Mr. Charles.”

“Yes?”

They flashed their badges. “You’re under arrest. Orders from the State Anti-Corruption and Corporate Fraud Division. You and your fiancee are suspected of corporate manipulation and illegal restructuring practices in relation to your firm's executive hierarchy.”

My heart stopped.

“What?” I gasped, walking forward in my robe, holding my belly protectively. “What are you talking about?”

The men didn’t blink. “We have evidence that suggests strategic manipulation of shareholding documents, corporate power transfer without board knowledge, and suspected coercion of employees. We need you both to come with us.”

Charles stood in front of me instantly. “She’s pregnant,” he snapped. “You’re not taking her anywhere.”

One of the men gave a small, amused smile. “You can come quietly, or we can cuff you both.”

I stepped back, trembling.

“Charles…”

“Don’t touch her,” he growled, moving closer to the officers, fists clenched.

Another officer came from behind, this time with a third man. They tasered him.

Charles collapsed to the floor with a cry.

I screamed.

They dragged him out in cuffs, unconscious.

And me? They didn’t cuff me. They just led me gently by the arm, like I was some fragile glass that might shatter.

Tears streamed down my face as I was escorted out of what was supposed to be our safe space. My hand trembled as it stayed over my stomach.