Chapter 503 Jacob Proposes Divorce 2
Serafina wouldn't indulge him.
Their marriage had reached its end, and her feelings for him had died long ago. That moment on the phone when he'd said "Don't be afraid, I'm here" had been nothing more than a dying ember's last flicker. Everything had been wishful thinking on her part.
Jacob had never loved her. Never.
She insisted on sleeping in the guest room, leaving the master bedroom to Jacob. Neither of them slept well that night.
The next morning brought their final breakfast together. Everything appeared normal—Jacob sat at the head of the table in his impeccable suit, every gesture radiating aristocratic grace, while Serafina had applied light makeup as usual.
After a stretch of silence, Jacob looked at her. "The company needs time for damage control. We'll separate for a month first. As for the divorce settlement—"
"I'll move out this evening," Serafina interrupted. "Whatever settlement you think is fair will be fine. Jacob, I need to get to work now, or I'll be late."
She spoke these parting words so gently, so eager to leave. Jacob pressed his hand over hers, his dark eyes searching her face. "Finish breakfast with me. I'll drive you to school afterward."
Serafina declined, gazing down at his hand covering hers. "What's the point of staying a little longer? Sooner or later, we're getting divorced anyway."
She drew a deep breath. What she didn't say was that they'd had so much time together before, yet what good had it done? They were still separating in the end. Time together didn't matter—only genuine love did. Even now, Serafina felt no hatred toward him, because their union had never been about love.
Serafina withdrew her hand and went upstairs for her car keys and coat. She gripped the banister, climbing each step with profound loneliness. If only she had never fallen for him—then she could leave without a backward glance, without lying awake replaying what might have been if he had just come home that night.
A single tear fell. Serafina didn't wipe it away as she climbed steadily upward, step by step out of Jacob's life.
Behind her, Jacob watched her retreating figure, his dark eyes holding emotions even he couldn't fully comprehend.
Serafina came downstairs and got into her car. Beside her, Jacob sat calmly in the driver's seat of his Rolls-Royce Phantom, striking in his classic black and white suit.
He turned to look at her. Their eyes met in wordless understanding.
Moments later, both engines started simultaneously. The two cars left the newlywed villa together, but once through the gates, one turned left, the other right—heading in opposite directions.
The morning light was gentle, leaves rustling in the breeze—
"I promise to love, honor, and cherish you through all of life's joys and challenges, to be your faithful partner until death do us part."
Those had been Jacob and Serafina's wedding vows.
Now they were separated.
That evening, Jacob returned to an empty villa. Serafina had taken everything—her clothes, jewelry, embroidery work, books. Everything except one item: the gold necklace he'd given her.
The delicate gold chain lay against the white pillowcase.
Jacob sat on the bed's edge, slowly picking up the small piece of jewelry as memories flooded back like a tide. That night under the fireworks, he'd won Serafina's heart with calculated charm, only to later break it through neglect.
Serafina was reserved by nature—her falling in love and subsequent disappointment had never been voiced.
But he remembered how radiant she'd looked when she was falling for him.
He asked himself: in all that performance between truth and pretense, had he truly never felt anything at all?
A servant knocked at the door. "Mr. Windsor, shall I serve dinner?"
"Just prepare something simple," Jacob replied flatly.
The servant knew about the impending divorce and Jacob's mood, so she started to leave without further questions. But Jacob called her back. "When Serafina left, did she say anything?"
The servant thought for a moment, then shook her head gently. "Mrs. Windsor didn't say anything."
Jacob dismissed her. Once the bedroom door closed, he collapsed onto the soft bed. The sheets had been changed after last night's intimacy, carrying the fresh scent of detergent with no trace of Serafina's presence.
Jacob turned his head toward the window where the moon hung bright, finally accepting that Serafina was truly gone. She wouldn't be coming back.
Under that same moon, Serafina had moved in with Isadora.
Isadora had closed the Penrose Mansion and purchased a more modest five-thousand-square-foot villa. With the Penrose family's fortunes in decline, they lived simply now, keeping only two servants for cleaning and maintenance. Sometimes Serafina cooked for herself.
Life without Jacob was peaceful. During their month of separation, he barely contacted her except for occasional questions about where she'd left certain clothes or accessories. Oliver and Sarah had taken her to dinner several times, trying to convince her not to divorce.
Serafina gently declined their pleas. She told them she didn't blame Jacob, that there was no passionate love-hate drama between them—they were simply parting amicably. But she never mentioned that Jacob had been the one to ask for the divorce.
A month later, Serafina felt unwell.
In the hospital corridor, Serafina stared at the pregnancy test results, her emotions in turmoil.
She was pregnant again!
Counting back, it must have happened the night before Jacob left for Sovelan, during that impulsive moment in the dressing room when he hadn't used protection.
She was carrying his child, yet they were about to divorce.
Her phone rang. Jacob's name appeared on the screen.
She answered, hearing his crisp voice through the speaker. "If you have time, come to the office. The lawyer has prepared the divorce papers. You can review them, and if everything looks acceptable, we can sign."
People bustled past in the corridor as Serafina stood alone, ice-cold all over.
After a long pause, she managed a quiet "Okay."
Jacob seemed about to say more, but Serafina had already hung up.
She covered her mouth and rushed to the women's restroom, retching over the sink. When she finally looked up at her reflection, she barely recognized herself—pale and frighteningly thin.
Serafina blinked in bewilderment, her trembling hand slowly moving to rest on her still-flat stomach. A new life was growing there. Her child—Serafina's child.
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