He Asked Me To Divorce, I Said Yes Chapter 01
Julian Prescott was driving me to a prenatal appointment when he received a call.
A woman’s voice came through the car speakers. “I’m back. Will you divorce her?”
Julian said nothing. He simply ended the call.
I thought that was a clear, final no.
Then, that same night, he had his attorney deliver a divorce settlement agreement.
Seeing the restrained emotion in his eyes, I calmly signed and asked, “Do you want me out tonight?”
He must have expected tears or a scene, because surprise flickered across his usually austere face.
His voice was low and rough. “No. The house will be deeded over to you tomorrow.”
I nodded obediently.
Julian had no idea that knowing when to back off was a staple of the gold-digger playbook. It worked every time.
***
I studied Julian’s severe expression and said quietly, “It’s late. Get some rest. You have a meeting tomorrow. I’ll sleep in the guest room.”
I stood to leave.
As I passed him, he suddenly caught my wrist.
His brows pulled low over his eyes, and his lips pressed into a tight line. He looked equal parts confused and angry.
“Nora, why aren’t you fighting me on this?”
“Would fighting you stop the divorce?”
Julian went still. After a moment, he said quietly, “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”
I turned my head just enough for him to see the redness around my eyes. “Okay. I believe you.”
The living room lights stayed on all night.
The next day, when we went to the courthouse to file for divorce, the compensation section of the agreement had grown by several more pages.
Once the divorce paperwork had been filed, Julian did something he had never done before: he took my hand. His gaze dropped to the slight curve of my stomach. “Let’s get something to eat.”
In the past, I would have been ecstatic.
Julian had always been distant and emotionally closed off. He had never once taken the initiative with me.
But this time, I stepped back and lowered my gaze. “Mr. Prescott, I don’t think that would be appropriate.”
His frown deepened, as though he didn’t know what to do with my sudden distance.
“Nora,” Julian said, irritation slipping into his voice, “we’re getting divorced, not becoming enemies. We can still be friends.”
I paused but said nothing.
Three years earlier, he had told me I wasn’t even worthy of being in the same room with him.
Taking my silence as agreement, Julian opened the car door for me himself.
He had never done that before.
I lowered my eyes. “My morning sickness is bad. I can’t handle restaurant smells.”
Julian froze as if he had only just remembered I was pregnant. “I’m sorry,” he murmured once more.
I nodded politely. “Then don’t worry about it, Mr. Prescott. I’ll get home on my own.”
His mouth tightened further, and irritation flashed across his face. But when he saw that my eyes were still swollen, he forced it down.
“Get in. I’ll take you home.”
This time, I didn’t refuse. Backing off once or twice was strategy. Do it too often, and you were just playing games.
Throughout the drive, Julian seemed on the verge of saying something.
I knew what he wanted to say.
So I spoke first. “I’ll have an abortion. I won’t make this any harder for you.”
I had thought I was being considerate, but his reaction was nothing like I expected.
His expression darkened, anger blazing in his eyes.
“Nora Bennett, do you really not want to have my child?”
I froze.
Julian was usually all ice—quiet, remote, and almost impossible to read.
Except in bed, he had never lost control around me.
This was the first time he had ever shown me his anger.
I didn’t argue. My fingers curled around the hem of my shirt as I asked softly, “I can’t bring a child into the world just to have them branded a bastard, can I?”
Julian clenched his jaw, his lips pressed into a razor-thin line.
After all, everyone in their circle knew there was nothing Julian despised more than children born outside marriage.