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He waited until she was done, then stepped closer and handed her a stack of documents.

“These are the divorce papers, Mrs. Moretti,” he said gently. “Mr. Moretti asked me to give them to you. If you have any other requests, he’s willing to agree to them.”

Krystal took the papers, her expression unreadable.

She took the papers without a word, flipping through casually, until her eyes landed on the bottom of the last page.

Alimony: 100 million dollars.

A loud gasp slipped from her lips. “One hundred million?! Holy shi—”

Xander blinked in surprise. He didn’t expect a reaction like that from her. Krystal was never the type to be moved by money.

She quickly covered it up, forcing her shock into a quiet, indifferent cough.

“I’ve been living off Lorenzo for two years. How could I still take alimony?”

She placed the papers on the table, signed them without hesitation, and handed them back to him.

“Please tell Lorenzo I don’t want the money. Or anything else. I’ve signed the papers. I agree to the divorce.”

Xander took the signed papers but hesitated, his brows furrowing with concern as he looked at Krystal.

“But Mrs. Moretti… you’ve been married to Mr. Moretti for two years. You never held a job. If you walk away with nothing now, how are you going to survive out there?”

Krystal gave him a quiet smile, the kind that looked like it took effort to form. Her eyes stayed distant, and her voice was low.

“After leaving Lorenzo, there isn’t much left in my life anyway,” she said quietly. “I’ll survive. I’ll figure something out.”

She stood up, picked up the lunchbox, and walked out of the office with graceful, soft steps.

Xander watched her in tense silence as she headed toward the elevator. When she disappeared from view, he sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.

“Where do you even find women like Mrs. Moretti anymore?” he muttered to himself. “So kind, humble, gracious. Doesn’t ask for a thing, and still Mr. Moretti is not satisfied.”

He flipped the divorce papers carelessly in his hand, sneaking a glance toward the door to make sure Lorenzo wasn’t around. Then, with gritted teeth, he hissed under his breath.

“Scumbag!”

***

Outside, Krystal walked straight to the black Mercedes waiting at the curb. She got in silently. The luxury leather seats, deep brown and plush, had been custom-ordered for her as a gift by Lorenzo when she first entered the Moretti mansion as his wife.

She got in without a word. The car pulled into traffic and sped quietly through the streets of Manhattan. She took out her phone, opened her messages, and tapped on a contact namedDarren. She typed:

‘I’m free. Ten minutes. Pick me up from the Moretti house.’

She turned off the screen and leaned back in her seat. The ride home was short and silent.

As soon as the car pulled up to the Moretti house, Krystal stepped out and walked straight into the house. Without looking around, she walked directly upstairs.

The maids standing in the hallway exchanged glances. Something was off. They were used to her routines—precise, reliable, loving.

Krystal personally delivered Lorenzo’s meals every single day, three times a day, without fail. Rain, sun or snow, she never missed a day. One time, when the car broke down, she walked through a storm, drenched from head to toe, just to bring him lunch. Another time, in a snowstorm, with roads blocked, she trudged through the freezing weather just to bring him food herself.

The staff had always admired that kind of dedication. Even though her husband was cold and distant, her devotion never seemed to fade.

So when she passed them without a word or even looking their way, the maids stood in tense silence, unsure of what had changed. She didn’t mention dinner plans. She didn’t check on anything. She just walked upstairs, straight to the bedroom.