The Donna Who Vanished from the Portrait Chapter 09

The Donna Who Vanished from the Portrait Chapter 09

On mediation day, Adrian finally signed the divorce agreement.

I instructed my lawyer to dismiss the lawsuit, and we re-filed for divorce by mutual consent.

One month later, the mandatory cooling-off period ended.

Adrian showed up two hours early. He wore the same black suit he’d worn on our wedding day, and the silver

cufflinks I had given him still sat on his wrists.

Matteo set my document folder beside my car. When Adrian spotted him through the car window, his

expression turned dark.

After Matteo drove off, he spoke. “You already have someone picking you up, before the papers are even

final?”

“He’s only driving me here.”

“Once, if another man so much as glanced at you, you feared I would misinterpret it. Now you don’t care at

all?”

I stepped out beside the car. “Whether you misinterpret things no longer matters to me.”

Adrian followed, brushing a fallen leaf off my shoulder. “Ten years by my side, and all you’ve learned is how to turn your words into knives.”

I handed the agreement over to the registration clerk. “Please sign it.”

He didn’t reach for the pen. “I’ll give you the main estate house. I’ll transfer shares to you. Take whichever Moretti property in Ravenna you want.”

“I don’t want any of it.”

“Then don’t get divorced.”

I turned to face him. “Why are you even here today?”

“To bring you home.”

“Which home? The master bedroom, or that portrait?”

Adrian’s jaw tightened. “Don’t reduce our entire life together to one painting.”

“That isn’t what I’m doing.” I pushed the signature page toward him. “Let us finish this today.”

He stared at the paper for a very long time, motionless.

“If you refuse to return to the Moretti estate, so be it. You may stay in Ravenna. I’ll keep the workshop for you. And as for that man, Rossi…” He paused, jaw clenched. “You may see whoever you like. I won’t interfere.”

I let out a quiet laugh. “Such generous terms?”

“On condition we don’t get divorced.”

“You don’t want a marriage. You simply cannot accept that I no longer love you.”

Adrian’s face darkened. “You are right. I cannot.”

The words hung thick in the air. Shocked by his own admission, he let out a bitter scoff. “Are you satisfied now? Did you have to force me to say this just to get revenge on me?”

“No one forced you.”

He suddenly grabbed my wrist. “When I seek you out, you accuse me of controlling you. If I stay away, will you run straight to Matteo Rossi?”

“Is losing me what you cannot bear?”

“I cannot bear losing you!”

The government office hall fell utterly silent.

Adrian’s breathing grew ragged, yet his grip stayed firm. “Margaret, I cannot lose you. Are you happy now?”

“You cannot stand losing a fight.”

“Who exactly have I lost to?”

“No one.” I pried his fingers off mine, one by one. “I don’t want you anymore.”

The corners of his eyes reddened. “If I got down on my knees right now, would you think I was still performing?”

“I never asked you to kneel.”

Adrian went rigid.

After a long pause, he slowly sank back into his chair. “When Elena cries, I have to go. When Sophie calls, I have to go. You never cry.”

“So it’s my fault for being too understanding?”

“I’m not blaming you!” He lifted his head sharply, voice raw. “I just… I truly believed you would wait for me.”

“Based on what?”

“Because you always waited before!”

The anger drained from his face the second the words left his mouth. He finally heard the cold arrogance

inside them.

His Adam’s apple worked. “I took advantage of the fact that you loved me. I shifted every burden onto your

shoulders because I convinced myself you could endure it.”

“I know.”

“I thought it didn’t matter who I prioritized. I told myself I could always come back and persuade you to stay, that you would always stay.”

“I know that too.”

“I never truly believed you would leave.”

I set the pen down in front of him. “Now you know.”

Adrian didn’t touch it. “Is it still not too late? Give me one more chance.”

“No.”

“You did love me, once.”

“I did.”

He clung to those two words. “On our wedding night, you said the lamp in our master bedroom would always stay lit for me. Was that also a lie?”

“The lamp is still there.”

Hope flickered briefly in his eyes.

“But I’m no longer afraid of the dark.”

That light died out again.

The clerk spoke softly to prompt him. “Mr. Moretti, please sign.”

He kept his gaze fixed on me. “Will you marry Matteo Rossi someday?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Don’t marry him.”

“Sign the paper.”

“Margaret…”

“Adrian, don’t make me take what little dignity you have left.”

His fingers trembled. At last, he picked up the pen.

Before the ink could touch the page, he asked one final time. “Why are you not sad at all?”

I looked at that familiar face. “Because every part of me that could feel pain was wounded by you long ago.”

The pen dragged across the form, the signature jagged and uneven.

The clerk collected the agreement and handed me the official divorce certificate. “Ma’am, please keep this

document secure.”

I took the document and walked outside.

Behind me I heard the sharp clack of a pen hitting the floor. Adrian didn’t chase after me.