Sighs in the Dark: Divorcing My Billionaire Husband Before I Forget Him

"You were grinding your teeth again last night. It kept me awake all night." Julian stood in front of the full-length mirror, adjusting the collar of his navy-blue French cuff shirt. He shot me a cold look through the glass. I sat on the edge of the bed, my phone screen still open to the sleep tracker app. The screen had already gone black. "I barely moved last night," I said quietly, keeping my voice low. "Barely moved? Then why didn't I get a single wink of sleep?" He spun around, his brows furrowing with irritation. He strode over to the nightstand, picked up his Patek Philippe watch, and strapped it onto his wrist. "Audrey, can you please stop walking around with that miserable face all the time?" "I'm just saying, I didn't move." I looked up at him. "Whatever. I don't have the energy to argue with you." He waved his hand dismissively, as if I were some hysterical child. "I’ve already had the maid clean out the study. Starting tonight, I'm sleeping there." There it was. He had finally said what he’d been planning all along. I watched him finish fastening his watch strap, his movements smooth and decisive. "Okay," I replied. Just one word. Julian froze. He clearly hadn't expected me to agree so easily. Based on his past experience, I should have had tears in my eyes, demanding answers, or desperately promising that I’d do better. But the flash of surprise in his eyes was quickly replaced by contempt. "I'm glad you're finally being reasonable. We both need some personal space." He walked to the door, his hand resting on the brass handle. He paused. "By the way, Chloe is coming over tonight to pick up some tax documents. Cook something nice." Chloe. At the mention of her name, my fingers tightened around my phone. She was the new Chief Financial Officer at Julian’s company—young, beautiful, and an Ivy League grad. Most importantly, she possessed the one thing Julian was currently obsessed with: an effortless, laid-back vibe. "Got it," I said, standing up and heading toward the walk-in closet. Julian didn't leave immediately. He stared at my back, trying to find a crack in my calm facade. "Chloe has a sensitive stomach, so nothing too spicy. She likes fresh seafood." He sounded like a perfect host, meticulously detailing his guest's preferences. "We haven't bought seafood in months," I said, without turning around. "Then go buy some! Audrey, you sit at home all day doing nothing. Can't you handle a simple dinner without me holding your hand?" His voice rose, dripping with condescension. I turned around to look at the man I had loved for seven years. His suit was perfectly tailored, his hair immaculately styled. Every inch of him exuded the arrogance of a successful man. "I'll buy it," I said, my tone remaining entirely flat. Julian looked like he had punched a wall of cotton. His face soured. "Just make sure you don't wear that sour face in front of Chloe. She’s a sweet girl. She doesn't understand the petty passive-aggressive drama of stay-at-home wives." With that, he slammed the door and left. With a loud bang, the massive villa plunged back into dead silence. I walked to the window and watched his black Maybach pull out of the driveway. The sun was bright, making my eyes sting. I turned and walked into the study he had just prepared for himself. The room smelled faintly of cedarwood cologne. It was Julian’s signature scent, but today, it made me feel slightly nauseous. A few files were scattered across the desk. I walked over, intending to tidy them up. Tucked beneath a stack of financial reports was a small pink sticky note. Written in neat, looping cursive, complete with a playful smiley face: *Julian, listening to you sigh on FaceTime last night broke my heart. See you tonight. — Chloe xx* I stared at the note, the seventeen heavy sighs from the recording echoing in my mind once more. So, he wasn't sighing because of insomnia. He was sighing for another woman's sympathy. I didn't tear the note. I placed it back exactly where I found it, right under the reports. Then, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I had saved long ago. "Mr. Sterling, it’s Audrey. Yes, you can start drafting the divorce agreement." "As fast as possible." Hanging up, I took a deep breath and quietly closed the study door behind me.

At 5:00 PM, the doorbell rang right on cue. Untying my apron, I wiped my wet hands and went to open the door. Julian and Chloe were standing on the porch. Chloe wore a cream silk blouse paired with beige wide-leg trousers. She looked both professional and incredibly soft. "Audrey, I hope we aren't interrupting! Julian kept boasting that your steamed sea bass is legendary, and I’ve been craving it for ages." She beamed at me, holding out a beautifully wrapped luxury wellness basket. "Come on in," I said, stepping aside to let them pass. Julian naturally took the basket from her hand and set it on the entryway console. "I told you not to bring anything. She doesn't really care about this kind of stuff anyway," Julian said, a subtle trace of tenderness in his voice. "Oh, stop! It's my first time visiting your home. It’s only polite," Chloe said, sliding into the guest slippers I had prepared, stepping gracefully into the living room. I watched them interact with such comfortable familiarity. It felt like I was the intruder in my own home. Dinner was elaborate. As I brought the final bowl of soup to the table, Julian had already pulled out a chair for Chloe. "Try this. It's Audrey’s specialty." Julian used the serving fork to place a delicate piece of fish onto Chloe’s plate. Chloe took a bite, her eyes lighting up instantly. "Oh my gosh, this is amazing! Audrey, you’re such an incredible cook. No wonder Julian rushes home every day after work." Julian let out a soft chuckle, swirling his red wine. "Well, it’s basically her only hobby. When you spend all day in the kitchen, you eventually lose touch with how the real world works." His tone was three parts joking, seven parts condescending. My fingers tightened around my fork until my knuckles turned white. "You're right. The world changes fast," I said, looking up to meet Julian’s eyes. "So fast that some people completely forget the promises they once made." Julian’s face stiffened. Sensing the sudden tension, Chloe quickly chimed in to smooth things over. "Audrey, please don't misunderstand. Julian actually worries about you a lot. Last night when we were on FaceTime going over the ledgers, he couldn't stop sighing." She paused intentionally, watching my reaction. "He said he feels like you've been so quiet lately, and he's worried you're getting depressed. He even asked me to come over more often to keep you company." Her tone was incredibly sincere, as if she truly cared about my well-being. I set my fork down and dabbed my mouth with a napkin. "FaceTime ledger reviews?" I looked at her, a faint smile playing on my lips. "Yes. There was an accounting discrepancy we couldn't resolve, so Julian stayed on the call with me until 2:00 AM," Chloe said, blinking innocently. 2:00 AM. According to my app, that was exactly when Julian had tossed three times and sighed five times. "I see," I nodded, not pushing any further. Julian visibly relaxed. He probably thought I had swallowed their pathetic excuse hook, line, and sinker. "Anyway, let’s not talk about work. Let's eat," he said, tapping the table to change the subject. But Chloe wasn't done. "Audrey, I actually really envy you. You don't have to stress about paying bills. You just get to keep this beautiful house clean." She looked around the high-ceilinged dining room, a flash of jealousy crossing her eyes. "Unlike me. I have to deal with those corporate wolves at the office every single day. Julian has to protect me so much, he’s probably annoyed half the board." Her words were wrapped in envy, but they were a clear declaration of war. She was telling me that she and Julian were partners fighting side-by-side in the real world, while I was just a useless ornament. "If it’s that hard, why don't you resign?" I asked calmly. Chloe froze. Julian slammed his fork onto the table. "Audrey, what the hell is wrong with you? Chloe is the backbone of our financial department. Do you even know what a key asset is?" "I just know that we shouldn't discuss business at the dinner table." I met his angry gaze without flinching. "Why have you become so bitter and toxic?!" Julian pointed a finger at me, disgust written all over his face. Chloe quickly grabbed his arm, tears instantly welling in her eyes. "Julian, please don't get mad. It's my fault. I shouldn't have brought up work. Audrey probably just didn't want me here." The more fragile and accommodating she acted, the more Julian’s heart ached for her. "She just hates seeing anyone else happy! Ignore her." Julian squeezed Chloe’s hand tightly, comforting her. Looking at their intertwined hands, a wave of intense disgust hit me. "I’m full. Enjoy your dinner." I stood up and walked upstairs without looking back. "Audrey! Get back here!" Julian roared behind me. I ignored him, walked into my bedroom, and locked the door. Outside, I could hear Julian’s muffled curses and Chloe’s soft, soothing voice whispering to him. I leaned against the door and closed my eyes. I had been through this routine of being isolated and blamed too many times. But this time, I wouldn't cry a single tear.

The next morning, Julian got up unusually early. When I walked downstairs, he was sitting on the sofa, scrolling through his phone with a dark expression. Seeing me enter, he threw his phone onto the coffee table with a loud thud. "Give me the keys to the Porsche." he demanded. The red Porsche Panamera was a gift he gave me for my thirtieth birthday. Although I rarely drove it over the past few years, it sat in the garage, fully registered under my name. "Why do you need my keys?" I walked to the kitchen island and poured myself a glass of warm water. "Chloe's car is in the shop. She has to meet a major client today on behalf of the firm. She can’t just take an Uber—it looks bad for the company." Julian spoke with absolute entitlement, as if he were asking for something trivial. I held my glass and looked at him. "The company has plenty of fleet vehicles. Why does she have to drive my car?" "Those corporate SUVs are too rigid. Chloe is young; your red Panamera is perfect for her." He urged impatiently, "Hurry up, she’s waiting for me downstairs." So, Chloe was already here. She hadn't even bothered to step inside, confident that Julian could easily fetch the keys for her. I set my glass down and shook my head. "No." Julian stared at me, dumbfounded, as if he hadn't heard me correctly. "What did you say?" "I said, no," I repeated, looking him dead in the eye. Julian’s face turned bright red with rage. "Audrey, are you out of your mind? It’s just a car! It’s literally collecting dust in the garage. What’s the big deal if Chloe borrows it for a day?" "It’s my car. I get to decide who drives it," I replied coolly. "Your car? Every single thing on your body was bought with my money!" He stood up abruptly, pointing a finger at my face. "You eat my food, live under my roof, and spend my cash. And now you won't even let me borrow a car? When did you become so incredibly selfish?!" Every word he spat was like a dull knife, carving away at my chest. Seven years. He seemed to have completely forgotten that during the early days of his startup, when the company was on the brink of bankruptcy, it was my parents' life insurance payout that kept his head above water. He also forgot that the Porsche was bought with the investment returns I had made back then. In his eyes, I had long since devolved into a parasite entirely dependent on him. "Julian, do you really think that if you yell loud enough, I'll just obey you?" I looked at him coldly. My gaze made him flinch slightly, dampening his arrogance, but he remained stubborn. "I don't have time for this. Where are the keys? I'll get them myself." He started rummaging through the living room drawers. "The keys are in my purse. Touch it, and see what happens." I stood still, my voice quiet but dangerous. Julian stopped. He turned and glared at me. "Audrey, you just love making everyone miserable, don't you? Chloe is waiting outside. How am I supposed to explain this to her?!" "That’s your problem, not mine." He snapped. He lunged toward the entryway, grabbed my designer handbag hanging from the coat rack, violently ripped the zipper open, and dumped the contents all over the floor. Lipstick, compact powder, tissues, and the Porsche key fob clattered across the hardwood floor. He bent down, snatched the keys, and looked up at me like a victorious conqueror. "I’m taking them. What are you going to do about it?" Looking at my personal belongings scattered across the floor, a profound sense of sadness washed over me. "Julian, you’re going to regret this," I said softly. He let out a harsh sneer. "Regret? The only thing I regret in this life is marrying a bitter, ungrateful woman like you!" With that, he walked out the door, key fob in hand. I stood in the messy hallway for a long time, frozen. Only when my legs began to go numb did I slowly crouch down to pick up my things, one by one. As I reached for my compact powder, my fingers brushed against a neatly folded business card. It was Mr. Sterling’s card. I squeezed it tightly in my hand, the sharp corners biting into my palm. I didn't cry. I just stood up, went upstairs to change into a clean, sharp outfit, and hailed a cab to the Medical Center downtown.

The Medical Center, Neurology Department. The corridor smelled strongly of antiseptic, and cold white fluorescent lights beat down on the pale walls. I sat on a plastic bench, clutching a brown paper folder. People passed by—anxious family members, suffering patients. But I felt entirely isolated from the world. "Audrey Vance, Room 3." The nurse’s voice broke the silence. I stood up, took a deep breath, and pushed the door open. Dr. Evans adjusted his glasses, looking at the brain MRI scans on his screen with a heavy frown. "Mrs. Vance, your follow-up results are in." His voice was solemn. I sat in the chair across from him, placing my hands on my knees, my nails digging into my palms. "Has it gotten worse?" I heard my own voice tremble. Dr. Evans sighed, handing me a printed diagnostic report. "The hippocampal atrophy is significantly more pronounced than last month. The progression of your early-onset Alzheimer's is moving much faster than we anticipated." Early-onset Alzheimer's. Six months ago, this diagnosis had struck my life like a bolt of lightning. In the beginning, I just kept forgetting where I put my keys, or I’d walk into the kitchen and forget what I wanted to grab. Julian began complaining constantly about how "sluggish," "dull," and "stupid" I was becoming. I thought I was just tired. It wasn't until I got completely lost driving through a familiar intersection that I realized the severity of the situation. "Dr. Evans, how much time do I have left?" I stared at the dense medical jargon on the report, my eyes stinging. "It’s hard to say. Everyone progresses at a different rate. But have you been under a lot of stress lately? Severe emotional distress accelerates neural cell death." Stress? I let out a bitter laugh. Julian’s daily emotional abuse and Chloe’s constant intrusion—did that count as stress? "I highly recommend having a family member come in. We need to establish a long-term care plan. Given your current state, you shouldn't be living alone anymore," Dr. Evans said gently. "I don't have any family," I interrupted flatly. Dr. Evans paused, a flash of deep sympathy crossing his eyes. "Mrs. Vance, in the later stages of this disease, patients lose all cognitive functions. They don't even know who they are. You need to make arrangements early." "I know," I said, folding the diagnostic report neatly and putting it into my bag. "Thank you, Dr. Evans. I’ll make sure to take my meds." I walked out of the clinic, my steps feeling hollow. As I reached the elevator, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Chloe. *Audrey, Julian insisted on taking me out for a test drive. Your car drives like a dream! Thanks for the keys! (playful emoji)* Attached was a photo. In the photo, Chloe sat in the driver's seat of my Porsche, one hand casually resting on the steering wheel. In the passenger seat, Julian was leaning over, tenderly buckling her seatbelt. Their faces were inches apart, and Julian’s face wore a warm, brilliant smile I hadn't seen in years. I stared at the image. My chest felt so tight I could barely draw breath. A sudden, violent wave of dizziness hit me. My vision went black, and I slumped against the cold corridor wall. "Ma'am, are you okay?" a passing nurse asked, catching my arm. "I’m fine... thank you," I gasped, forcing myself to stand upright. I looked at the agonizing photo on my screen, then touched the terminal diagnosis in my purse. *Julian, did you really think I was just throwing a tantrum?* *Did you think you could ruthlessly trample on my dignity and take everything from me without consequences?* I originally wanted to leave you with some dignity before I forgot you entirely. But now, I’ve changed my mind. Leaning against the wall, my fingers flew across the screen as I fired off a message to Mr. Sterling: *Mr. Sterling, besides the divorce papers, I need you to audit all of Julian’s companies. Track his shareholding structures and his financial transactions over the last six months. I want him to leave with absolutely nothing.* After hitting send, I powered down my phone. The game had just begun.