Chapter 4
“What did you say?” Ryan stood frozen, staring at me like he’d misheard. “Emma?”
I picked up a pen, signed each page of the divorce papers, and pushed them toward him.
“I said, I want a divorce,” I repeated.
Ryan loosened his collar, frowning. “Are you losing it? Who’d want you, a woman past her prime, after me?”
So in Ryan’s eyes, I was “past my prime” at thirty.
I tossed the pen at him. “Ever heard ‘thirty is the new twenty‘? By the way, after the divorce, I won’t be your assistant anymore. Give me a few days to brief my replacement on your
schedule.”
My directness drew a mocking laugh from him.
He pointed at me, eyes flashing with impatience. “Emma, you’re playing with fire, and you’re going to get burned!”
As if on cue, Olivia’s ringtone filled the room. Ryan didn’t answer, just fixed me with a
threatening stare.
“Weren’t you the one always talking about having a baby before thirty? I know you’re ovulating this week.” His voice turned calculating. “I’m giving you three seconds to take it
all back.”
Last year, on my 29th birthday, I’d turned my fertility tracking into a shared calendar event, scheduling our attempts at starting a family. Ryan didn’t know I’d stopped marking those dates last month.
The ringtone echoed through the room like a countdown. Three seconds passed, and the last thread between us snapped.
“You’ve got nerve, Emma. Let’s see how long you can keep this up!” He stormed out of the
house.
74.29%
Chapter
The moment the door slammed, I picked up my phone and scheduled an appointment at the clinic for the day after tomorrow.
At the clinic, the doctor looked at the ultrasound and hesitated. “Ms. Mitchell, the pregnancy is progressing normally. Are you sure you don’t want to discuss this with the father?” Just then, my phone lit up with a trending notification. A clip from last night’s film gala.
The camera caught Ryan and Olivia sitting together, exchanging shy glances and secret
smiles.
Then Olivia, emboldened by the crowd and cameras, kissed Ryan. He grabbed her neck, pulling her close. I muted the audience’s screams by closing the video.
I accidentally opened a high–res photo from one of the reporters. There, on Ryan’s throat, were two small bite marks.
On our wedding night, when Ryan was still a struggling actor, he’d pinned me to our bed, teasing me. He’d guided my head to his throat, his voice husky: “Emma, bite me.”
Only when my teeth marked his skin did he finally hold me close, kissing my hair
repeatedly.
“It hurts this isn’t a dream. Emma, I really married you.” Back then, I was his dream come
true.
I locked my phone and closed my eyes. “Go ahead, doctor.”
It wasn’t as painful as I’d imagined. Afterward, I felt strangely lighter. The next morning, post–discharge, I met my replacement at a nearby coffee shop. To ensure they wouldn’t face the same treatment I had, I’d chosen a male assistant. I reviewed the final details with Max
Phillips.
“Why are you leaving? Ryan’s amazing. So many people would kill to be his assistant,” he
said.
I gave a slight smile. “I’m getting too old. This job needs someone young and hungry like
you.”
Max studied me, his expression a mix of confusion and respect. “You don’t seem old at all. You’ve been with Ryan through everything, from nobody to star. You’ve been incredible.”
11:29
Too Late to Say Sorry
74.6%
Chapter 4
I offered him a faint smile and tucked the signed contract away. “Maybe. Good luck, Max. I hope it goes well.”
Back home, I found Ryan – who was supposed to be filming in another state – sitting on our couch. His bloodshot eyes fixed on me. “Emma, where were you last night?”
“Why do you care?” I shot back.
I changed my shoes and headed for the bedroom. How many nights had I asked him the same question? I’d called his friends one by one, desperate to find him.
Sometimes they’d cover for him. Other times, an angry Ryan would grab the phone and snap, “Emma, my whereabouts are none of your business! I’m grown. I need my privacy. Stop being so controlling!”
While I absorbed his verbal attacks, I’d plan my apologies, hoping he’d drink less. But behind my concern, I’d hear Olivia’s soft voice: “Ryan, come dance…” He’d hang up before I
could say more.
Now, hearing my own words thrown back at him, Ryan stiffened and followed me to the bedroom. He threw two photos at my face, eyes blazing. “Emma, who’s him?”
