She Signed My Clinic Papers I Signed Her Divorce

My mental break started the day Delaney Shaw cheated againthis time, with her assistant. The world had gone blurry, and suddenly, the fruit knife on the kitchen counter looked like the only path to quiet.

Why are you hurting yourself? Doesnt she love you anymore?

I looked up. Sixteen-year-old Delaney, the girl who was my anchor, was walking toward me, her eyes wide with a familiar, aching concern.

Tell me who she is, she whispered, her voice fierce. Ill take care of her.

I stared into the clear, bright sincerity of her teenage eyes. I couldnt speak.

Silently, I pointed toward her face.

Later, it was the older Delaney who checked me into the psychiatric facility.

In a brief, lucid space between the heavy doses of stabilizers, the Girl sat beside my bed. She watched the woman outside the windowthe woman with her faceand the light in her eyes died, inch by agonizing inch.

Then she spoke, her voice strained but lethal: I dont care who she is. Im going to kill her.

Sixteen-year-old Delaney never lied to me. I knew she meant every word.

When Delaney pushed the door open, a faint scent of men's cologne and cigarette smoke drifted in with her.

Her gaze snagged on the fresh gauze wrapped around my wrist, and her expression tightened, a quick flicker of irritation.

Callum Grant, I was gone for ten minutes. Can you not cause trouble for me?

She reached out, yanking the gauze with a motion that was pure, impatient annoyance.

I flinched back instinctively, covering my chest with my arms. Someone already bandaged it for me, I mumbled, low.

Her hand froze mid-air. The look she gave me settled into a deep, weary exhaustion.

In the beginning, when I first started talking about someone protecting me, Delaney used to think it was just my condition worsening. Shed hold me tight, her eyes red. Now, my pain was simply a heavy, unwelcome burden.

Theres no one here, Callum. How much longer are you going to keep this lie up?

She didnt wait for an answer. She grabbed my wrist violently. Her fingers didnt soften at my tremor; they tightened, almost as if punishing me. She ripped the gauze away, tearing the blood-caked scabs clean off.

Sweat beaded on my forehead from the pain, but I held my hand steady, displaying the wound. I forced the words out in a shaky whisper: I havent lied to you since I was fifteen, Lan. You know that.

She met my eyeseyes I knew were filled with a broken, shattered light. Something in her own gaze shifted, a fleeting moment of self-doubt. She turned to leave.

Did you? I called after her retreating back, a familiar sting in my nose. Did you lie to me?

Delaneys back stiffened in the doorway. She wouldn't turn around. She offered no reply.

Sixteen-year-old Delaney was terrible at lying. Thirty-year-old Delaney knew that silence was her deadliest answer.

A few seconds later, she barked into the hall. Ms. Jenkins, take every sharp object in this room and dispose of it. If I see Mr. Grant with anything like this again, youre out of a job.

Ms. Jenkins, the housekeeper, walked in with a mop. As she gathered the blades, she muttered under her breath, When will the poor man get better? The mistress is going through so much.

Going through so much?

I looked at the weeping, angry red lines on my wrist. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

Delaney, I thought, you dont love me anymore. Why wont you just let me go? Why drag this out?

Before the thought finished, Brooks Jennings, the assistant, walked into the living room without removing his shoes. He moved like the man of the house, raising a hand naturally to straighten Delaney's collar, which I'd tugged.

Even with blood pooled on the carpet, his expression remained perfectly gentle and concerned.

Mr. Grant, if you have a moment of clarity, you need to let Delaney off the hook. Shes suffering. The rest of us can see it.

He spoke, then took a step closer, a false concern on his face. The faint tobacco scent that clung to Delaney earlier grew heavy, making my stomach churn.

I bent over, dry-heaving. In my blurred, desperate state, I lunged, trying to grab Delaneys pant leg.

But the instant my fingertips brushed the fabric, Brooks gave an exaggerated gasp and stumbled, clutching his stomach.

Seeing me move, Delaney instinctively shoved me hard.

I fell backward onto the floor, the fresh wound on my wrist dragging across the coarse carpet. Another blossom of scarlet bled onto the fibers.

Is it your ulcer acting up? Im taking you to the ER.

They left, Brooks leaning heavily into her.

Just before the door closed, Delaney glanced back at me. Backlit, I couldn't make out her features, but I understood her look. It was a release, the kind of relief you feel when a suffocating weight is finally lifted.

Our love was finished. Her new love was just beginning.

Perhaps Ms. Jenkins was right. Maybe being with me really had been too much for Delaney.

As the thought formed, the Girl in the school uniform appeared before me again.

She looked at me, and tears streamed down her face. She reached out to touch me, her fingers shaking in the empty air.

Callum Grant, you are the best man Ive ever known. Leave her.

I raised my hand, gently covering the Girls eyes. My palm met a ghost of cold emptiness.

Ill go with you.

As the crushing, familiar feeling of suffocation hit, I felt myself truly fall into a spectral embrace. Only there, with sixteen-year-old Delaney, was I safe. Only there, was I still loved.

Being loved by Delaney was my proudest superpower in high school.

When I was fifteen, the Grant family lost everything. My parents died. The rich kids who used to kiss up to me cornered me outside the school gates, laughing as they ripped my uniform apart.

It was sixteen-year-old Delaney who arrived with a phalanx of security, her face cold with rage, pushing through the crowd.

The sunset that day was red as blood.

She pointed at the bullies, pinned to the ground by her guards, and screamed across the pavement: Get over here!

Callum Grant! Don't be afraid! Get behind me!

When I finally stumbled to her side, her usually arrogant face was etched with a profound tenderness. Her gaze, when it landed on me, was a burning, almost painful heat.

Callum, don't be afraid. You still have me.

She gently brushed a tear from the corner of my eye. The warmth of her touch lingered, so hot I wanted to cry again.

Callum Grant, I, Delaney Shaw, will never lie to you. I will be loyal to you forever.

The girl's vow was absolute, making my heart tremble.

But I didnt know then that a promise is only truly genuine the moment it is spoken.

The year after our wedding, that love was slowly devoured by the bottomless pit of my familys inherited debts. She spent almost her entire inheritance.

The heat in her eyes vanished, replaced by a bottomless, sunken exhaustion.

My mind, after a long drift through memory, became starkly clear.

It was our fifth wedding anniversary.

I put on the white suit she loved, and I waited from sunset until well past midnight.

There were no flowers, no embrace. Only the sterile chill of the room, punctuated by the noisy live stream of the Shaw Groups annual gala on my phone screen.

In the vast crowd, I found her instantly. She was smiling, soft and beautiful. Brooks was carefully fastening a necklace around her throat.

The camera zoomed in. It was a pendant, a star and moon design. A crescent of silver cradled by tiny, inlaid diamonds.

My breath stopped.

It was the exact design I had sketched in my notebook when I was fifteen.

The day Delaney confessed her love to me, she pointed at that sketch, her voice trembling. Callum, when Im rich, Im going to have this made.

The stars never lie to the moon.

Just like I will never break my word to you.

Now, she had made it. And she was letting another man put it around her neck.

On the screen, Delaney touched the pendant at her collarbone, a shy smile gracing her lips. Thank you, Brooks. This is the most thoughtful gift I have ever received.

She didnt say more. But the look she gave Brooks was so doting, so utterly charmed. It was the same look I had only ever seen on her sixteen-year-old face.

After that time, I never saw her smile like that again.

It seemed even stars could fall. Even the moon could be abandoned.

Before the suffocating realization could truly sink in, the live stream moved to the charity auction.

The hosts voice boomed: Next on the block: the ownership of the Grant Family Legacy Fund.

Watching the numbers jump on the screen, I panicked. My fingers were shaking so hard I could barely dial her number.

The moment she picked up, my voice was a broken plea, a humiliation: Delaney, I accept that you don't love me anymore. Ill sign the papers, I'll go.

Please, just help me one last time. That fund is the last thing my parents left me. I just want to

A brief silence followed, then her cold voice: Callum, havent I done enough for you?

I tried to beg, but the line clicked dead.

On the live feed, the auctioneers gavel struck the wood with brutal finality.

Congratulations to Brooks Angel Investments! Sold for thirty million!

The camera cut to Delaney in the audience. She raised her champagne flute calmly, a toast in Brooks's direction.

The lights caught her profileelegant, indifferent.

She sold the last remembrance of my parents just to earn a smile from Brooks.

I didn't scream. I couldn't even cry. A pressure was building in my chest, a tight, crushing knot that made me cough sharply. A rush of metallic sweetness flooded my throat.

I collapsed onto the floor, staring blankly at the dark stain blooming on the carpet.

Delaney, you are ruthless.

As my consciousness faded into despair, the soft voice of the Girl returned. She sounded more panicked than I was.

Callum! Run! Don't look back!

Leave her! I cant watch her hurt you anymore!

The long night brought no sleep.

Sometime before dawn, Delaney stood by my bed, her expression complicated as she stared at the nightstand.

Despite her order to destroy all the blades, there sat a perfectly peeled apple. The peel was one unbroken curl.

That kind of careful patience belonged only to the sixteen-year-old Girl.

I sat up abruptly, thinking the Girl had visited me in my sleep. I lunged, wrapping my arms around the figure from behind, burying my face in her neck.

You left after peeling the apple. I thought you weren't going to stay with me today.

Delaneys body went rigid. My sudden embrace seemed to have thrown her completely off balance.

After a long silence, she did something truly unsettling: she tentatively patted my back. The motion was stiff, almost investigative.

Callum, are you having nightmares again?

Hearing Delaneys voice, I shrieked and shoved her away, scrambling back until my back hit the headboard.

Get away! You aren't her!

A shadow loomed. Delaney knelt beside the bed. She stared at my terrified eyes, her thumb tracing my cheek, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

Its just me. Theres no one else here.

I know youre upset about the gala. But I swear, as soon as I deliver Brookss baby and give him a payout, I'll come home and stay with you. Ill make things right.

Will you come with me to the board dinner tomorrow? Please?

The grip on my wrist loosened, waiting for my consent.

I looked up, tears blurring my vision. My voice was a raw plea. Delaney, lets get a divorce.

The sudden warmth in her eyes died instantly.

I felt her rage, but it morphed instantly into something almost pathologically possessive. As if fearing a loss, she pulled me into a hard embrace.

I forgot to fight. Then, a single, hot tear landed on the back of my hand. In the haze, I could almost see the younger Delaney crying for me, whispering desperate words to stop me from leaving.

Trembling, I reached up and wiped the tear from the woman's cheek. My touch was tender, as if soothing a fragile dream.

Okay I wont go. Ill go with you.

Delaney, stop crying.

The next day, Delaney took me to the high-society dinner.

The moment she turned to network, Brooks approached, a glass of champagne in hand.

He leaned in, his smile a cruel taunt. Mr. Grant, I really envy you. You can lose your mind and still get kept by her.

Oh, and by the way, I never wanted that pathetic little fund. Dead peoples things are bad luck. Delaney found it annoyinga painful relic. She just tossed it my way to deal with.

I focused intently on his thin, moving lips. The taut string of sanity Id been clinging to finally snapped.

Youre despicable, Brooks.

I couldn't stand the blatant mockery. I pushed him.

It wasn't a hard shove, but Brooks let out an exaggerated yelp, stumbling backward. The massive champagne tower behind him crashed to the floor.

The sound of shattering glass was a deafening explosion, silencing the entire ballroom.

Callum Grant! Have you lost your mind?

Before I could even process what happened, a storm of anger hit me. A vicious slap cracked across my face.

The noise of the impact was sharp and final. Total silence descended.

The blow was brutal. A rush of blood filled my mouth. A drop of red trickled from the corner of my lip.

I landed in the scattered shards, my palms cut and bleeding. But I registered no physical pain.

Because Delaney was carefully helping the whimpering Brooks to his feet, her gaze never once falling on me.

In front of everyone, the Girl in the school uniform stumbled toward me again.

She fell to her knees, desperately trying to pull me up. But her hands passed through my body, again and again.

Her voice was a ragged, sobbing scream, lost in the rising murmur of the crowd: Stop it! Delaney, you bastard, stop hitting him!

Run! Callum, run!

The Delaney you knew doesn't love you anymore! Youre going to die!

I obeyed the Girl. Without thinking, I scrambled to my feet. Ignoring the gasps of the guests, I bolted from the ballroom, running like a frantic animal.

I had nowhere to go, but I kept running. Suddenly, a stiff card was pressed into my hand.

In the dim light of a streetlamp, I saw it: a one-way ticket to a southern city. The flight time was in two hours.

Clutching the ticketmy only lifelineI raced toward the gate, reaching it just as boarding began.

Then, a strong hand clamped down on my shoulder.

Callum Grant!

Delaney had caught up. Brooks was panting next to her.

I held up the ticket, which had appeared from nowhere. My voice was a desperate, wet plea. Delaney, let me go please.

If I stay, Ill die.

Delaneys eyes widened at the impossible ticket. A flicker of doubt and surprise crossed her face. Perhaps the ticket was too real, or perhaps my desire to leave was too absolute.

Her grip on my shoulder actually loosened by an inch. In that instant, she almost turned back into the Girl who cared.

Fine. If you want to leave so badly

Sensing her regret, Brooks grabbed Delaneys arm in a panic, his eyes darting to her stomach.

Mr. Grant is hallucinating, Lan. Hes completely unhinged.

If you let him run off and he circles back, what if he hurts the baby?

At Brookss words, the momentary softening in Delaneys eyes vanished.

She looked away from me, snatching the ticket from my hand and tearing it to shreds right in front of my face.

The paper confetti drifted down like snow.

She didn't offer an explanation. Her voice dropped, colder than the wind.

You wont die. Not while Im here.

The steel door of the Residential Treatment Center slammed shut, followed by the heavy clank of the deadbolt.

I looked straight into her eyes, repeating my grim forecast. Delaney, I will die here.

She stood outside the visitation window. She didn't spare me a second glance, offering only a cold promise:

When I give birth to the baby, Ill come get you.

Her footsteps echoed down the empty corridor, utterly ruthless.

I stopped crying and beating on the door. I knew the Girls prediction was true. I was going to die here.

The sound-activated light in the hallway flickered violently, an electrical hiss filling the air.

Before Delaney had gone too far, a deafening crash erupted behind her. The heavy, reinforced steel door to my room was violently kicked inward, torn from its hinges by sheer brute force.

The spectral form of the Girl, still in her school uniform, appeared, helping me to my feet. She stepped out, one slow step after another.

Delaney spun around. In that single glance, she saw the most terrifying sight of her life