Monster Billionaire Husband, Let Me Go

Chapter 4: The Seed of Divorce

Once the thought of divorce took root, it spread like wildfire—relentless and impossible to contain.

Seven days later, I stood in the Sullivan family's ancestral home, face-to-face with Mr. Sullivan, and said the words out loud.

He sat on a dark mahogany sofa, his knuckles tapping rhythmically against the table—each dull thud echoing through the high-ceilinged room.

"Your reason?" he asked, without looking up.

I dropped my gaze, lashes casting shadows on my cheeks as I recounted everything. Percy's obsession with Emily Thompson. How he softened his temper around her. How he awkwardly tried to impress her. How he composed music just for her. Every word tasted like metal. My fingers trembled.

Mr. Sullivan stayed silent for a long while.

"Sophia," he said finally, "do you know why I chose you to marry my grandson?"

I let out a bitter smile. "Because of the Band-Aid?"

He gave a faint scoff. "That wasn't the only reason."

His eyes sharpened. "I did my homework. I knew how fragile your place was in the Reynolds household. I knew you needed this marriage—and because of that, I knew you'd be loyal to Percy. Unshakably loyal."

He paused before continuing, voice low and deliberate. "A boy like Percy—if he were healthy, women would line up for him. But as he is…"

My grip tightened around the hem of my dress.

Every word was like a slow, surgical cut—exposing the truth behind our so-called marriage.

"As for that girl, Emily," he sneered, "I don't trust strangers around Percy."

Outside, the rain began to beat harder against the windows, as if echoing the rising pressure in the room.

Then, out of nowhere, he changed gears. "You grew up in the Reynolds house. You understand how men are. At least Percy's not out there sleeping around."

I looked up at him, suddenly struck by how absurd this conversation was.

To them, the absence of infidelity was already a mark of honor—never mind the cruelty, the neglect.

"But he threw me out," I said quietly. "My existence only makes him more miserable."

Mr. Sullivan's composure cracked just slightly.

He hesitated, then finally said, "I'll think about it. But"—his voice cooled—"divorce requires Percy's agreement."

By the time I stepped outside, the skies had split open.

Thunder rumbled. Rain poured in sheets as I pushed open the estate's heavy doors.

That's when I saw him.

Percy stood at the foot of the steps, drenched. His white shirt clung to his skin, soaked and snapping in the wind. His black umbrella tilted uselessly, rain running down the spokes and pooling at his feet.

His face was ghost-pale. Lips trembling. Eyes wide.

"You… want a divorce?" he asked, the words barely audible over the storm.