Billionaire's Broken Plaything - Chapter 10: Chapter 10

I gaped at him, my stomach twisting in disbelief. "Clive, that's Darren! The director's son—he was our friend!"
"So?" His lips curled into a cruel smirk. "If it means making you suffer, I'd burn that whole orphanage to the ground. One call from me, and the authorities will swarm the place—digging through records, demanding paperwork, tearing everything apart. Tell me, do you think Darren and the director will survive that?"
My blood ran cold.
For years, the director had taken in kids with no papers, bending over backward to get them legal status. He'd say, "I can't just leave them to starve," working himself to the bone to give them a chance.
"Go ahead. Test me," Clive dared, his voice dripping with malice.
I couldn't. I wouldn't risk their lives. The wild, unhinged look in his eyes told me everything—I'd already lost.
Fine. Marriage it was.
His revenge stretched on for years, so long that even I grew numb to it. So long that when he finally tried to make amends, I hesitated. And that hesitation? It only poured gasoline on his rage, sparking fresh cruelty from him and fiercer defiance from me.
By the end, we were just two shattered people, locked in a war of pain and pride—neither willing to surrender.
When I opened my eyes, I didn't speak. Just stared at his hand, white-knuckled around mine.
The diamond ring still glittered, but my fingers had grown so frail it barely stayed on.
"Clive…"
The second his name left my lips, his head snapped up, eyes desperate, almost pleading. "Courtney, I'm here. Say it. Whatever you want—I'll do it."
I drew a shaky breath. "I… want a divorce."
He went completely still, like I'd turned him to stone. Then, voice cracking, "A divorce? Why? I know now—I was wrong. We can fix this. Let's start over, okay?" Tears spilled down his face as he clutched my hand like a lifeline.
But the pressure sent a sharp pain shooting through me, and I flinched, tugging back. The movement snapped him out of it, his grip loosening just enough for the ring to slip free, landing on the bed with a quiet clink.
"I… don't want your name on my gravestone," I whispered.
Still, he refused to sign the papers. But I didn't have the strength to fight anymore.
I'd already made plans with Darren—when I died, my ashes would be scattered at sea. Somewhere far away.
A few days later, when I felt just strong enough, I asked Clive to go home and find an old photo for me.
At first, he refused. But when I told him it was a picture of us as kids, he just stared at me for a long, silent moment before finally nodding.
The second he left, I turned to Darren. "Take me to the ocean."
His face darkened. "No."
"I just want to see where I'll be," I said softly. "I want to know what it looks like."
That broke him. Tears spilled over, silent and helpless, before he spun on his heel and stormed out.
When he came back, it was settled. The doctors agreed—a few hours, no more.
It was time.
The car hummed with an old song from our childhood. I smiled, humming along, struck by the thought—Clive and I had never taken a drive like this together.
At the lighthouse, Darren tucked a blanket around me before wheeling me closer. He pointed up at the towering structure. "I chose this one for you. Remember it, okay? If you ever get the chance… swim back and visit me."
I pulled the blanket tighter. "Okay."
Then his phone rang. He stepped away, but I already knew—Clive had realized there was no photo.
I looked down at the faded picture in my hands. Then, without a second thought, I let go.
The wind caught it, carrying it higher and higher until it vanished into the sky.