A sharp, rhythmic rap sounded against the door of Albert Harrison’s study.

"Come in," Albert’s steady voice echoed from within. Rose Harrison took a deep breath, steadied her trembling hands, and pushed the door open.

"Rose! How have you been lately?" Albert looked up, his face softening into a warm, paternal smile as he spotted her.

"I’m doing fine, Dad. But… there’s something I need to talk to you about," Rose replied with a faint, forced smile.

"What is it? Go on," Albert said, leaning back with an expectant, gentle expression.

Rose hesitated. The name Maximus Anderson hovered on her lips, a weight she was finally ready to drop. She closed her eyes, exhaling sharply. "Dad, I want a divorce."

Albert froze. The air in the room seemed to vanish. "What did you say?"

"I want a divorce from Maximus," she repeated, her voice firmer this time.

Albert studied her face. He looked for the hesitation, the doubt, the typical wavering of a daughter caught in a high-stakes marriage. He found none. He sat in silence for a long moment, weighing the gravity of her request. "Are you sure? Is this truly what you want?"

Perhaps the months of agonizing had finally reached a tipping point. In this moment, the answer was clearer than it had ever been. "Yes. I’m certain."

"Then so be it. You have my full support," Albert declared, his voice dropping into a resolute tone. He offered a reassuring smile, his eyes steady. "Rose, if you’ve made up your mind, don't look back. Your father will always be your shield."

The dam broke. The tears Rose had been holding back for months flooded out. She collapsed into her father’s arms, her body wracked with deep, suffocating sobs. Albert sighed, his face tightening with sorrow as he pulled her close, gently stroking her back until her frantic, broken breathing finally began to subside.

***

The following morning, the envelope arrived on Maximus Anderson’s mahogany desk.

He stared at the divorce papers as if they were a death warrant. As he scanned the cold, legal terminology, a sharp, searing agony pierced his chest—as if a thousand invisible knives were carving into his heart. The text blurred, the fine print swimming before his eyes. He couldn't—he wouldn't—believe this was happening.

For weeks, he had been waiting. He kept telling himself that if he just gave her space, if he just held his ground, Rose would come to her senses. He had told himself he would find the right time to explain everything, to mend what had been broken by his own cold hand.

But his expectations were nothing more than a delusion.

He reached for his phone, his movements frantic. He dialed her number, over and over, until his fingers were numb. Each time, the line was met with the mechanical, hollow voice of an automated operator: "I’m sorry, the person you are trying to reach is currently unavailable."

At that moment, a dark, cynical voice in his gut told him the bridge was burned. She had poured everything into this marriage, and he had been too blind, too late, and far too cruel to realize the damage until it was irreparable.

Yet, a stubborn, desperate hope clawed at his chest. *Don't give up,* it whispered. *Just push a little harder.*

He shoved his phone into his pocket, grabbed his keys, and bolted for the door.

When he arrived at the Harrison Estate, however, the heavy iron gates remained locked. Albert had already ordered the security detail to revoke Maximus’s clearance. He wasn't even given the courtesy of an announcement.

His black Cayenne sat idling in the dirt by the entrance, a luxury ghost in the grey afternoon. Maximus climbed out, standing helplessly before the gates.

Autumn weather in this city was temperamental; a sudden, vicious downpour lashed out from the clouds. Maximus stood motionless in the deluge, his expensive suit soaked through, his eyes fixed on the third-floor window of Rose’s room. The curtains were drawn tight. The woman he had pushed away was no longer there to watch him.

The rain fell in sheets, a cold, relentless curtain between him and the life he had once discarded. He stood there, a fool in the storm, staring up at the empty window, waiting for a miracle that refused to come.