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You sat silently in the living room, your hands clasped in your lap, trying to hide the trembling in your chest. Your husband walked in with cold steps, holding a stack of papers in his hand. He placed them on the table in front of you and, without looking into your eyes, said: "Since you can’t have children… sign the divorce papers."

His words cut like a blade. You didn’t argue. You didn’t cry in front of him. You simply picked up the pen and signed. Then, grabbing your bag, you walked out—your heart burning.

The moment you were alone, you pulled out your phone and called him… your husband’s enemy. The man your husband had always warned you about, saying his presence meant ruin.

When he answered in that calm, dangerous voice, you said: "Please… destroy him. Ruin his company. Take everything from him… and I’ll give you whatever you want."

There was a silence. Then he whispered so softly it sent chills down your spine: "What I want… is you."

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