Chapter 5 Sign It, Let’s Get a Divorce

The alarm went off three times before Penelope finally dragged herself out of bed.

Dominic hadn't come home last night.

She wasn't surprised anymore.

At the bathroom sink, the mirror showed her sunken eyes, colorless lips, and thin skin above her collarbones where blue veins showed through.

Penelope tied her hair up, covering a bruise on the side of her neck—a mark Dominic had left the night before last.

She shook out two painkillers from the bottle, swallowed them dry, and left.

When she got to the office, a stack of new files was already on her desk.

She opened the first page—it was a PR proposal for the Sinclair Group, identical to the one Dominic had sent her last night. A sticky note in Grant's handwriting was stuck in the upper right corner: "Must have first draft today. The Sinclair Group is pushing hard."

Penelope closed the file and went to knock on Grant's office door.

"Come in."

Grant looked up and saw her, immediately setting down his coffee cup. "Did you look at the proposal?"

"I did." Penelope stood in front of his desk. "Mr. Hoffman, I can't take this project."

Grant's expression quickly turned unhappy.

"What do you mean you can't take it? The Sinclair Group specifically asked for you. This is a company-level decision. Your personal feelings shouldn't interfere with work."

Penelope didn't explain. She just repeated, "I can't do it."

Grant stood up, bracing his hands on the desk and leaning forward.

"Penelope, I could take this attitude as defying company orders. You should know that everyone wants the Sinclair Group contract. Your personal preference isn't worth the company sacrificing such a big opportunity."

"What if I don't do it?"

"Then we'll handle it according to company policy," Grant stared at her. "Absence without leave, passive work attitude, refusing reasonable work assignments—any one of these violations can zero out your performance rating, freeze your year-end evaluation and three months of basic salary."

After listening, Penelope took an envelope from her pocket and handed it over.

"This is my resignation letter, effective immediately."

Grant froze.

The office was quiet except for the hum of the air conditioning vent.

"Are you crazy? Quitting out of spite?"

"It's not spite," Penelope's voice was completely flat. "Personal reasons."

Grant's face turned dark. He picked up the envelope, flipped through it twice, then threw it back on the desk.

"Fine, you can leave, but don't expect any severance. I'll process this as absence without leave."

Penelope nodded and walked out of the office.

Passing her desk, she didn't collect any personal belongings. There was nothing of hers on that desk anyway—even the mug was company-issued.

As she walked out the company doors with her bag, her phone vibrated.

Encrypted channel, codename K.

"X, resignation confirmed from internal system. Need acknowledgment. Valdoria private equity passed committee review, official signing next week."

Penelope replied, "Acknowledged."

She'd just put her phone in her pocket when another message popped up.

Dominic.

Just one simple line: "You quit?"

The message came fast—less than fifteen minutes after she'd left the company. Had Grant notified the Sinclair Group, or had Tessa been monitoring her movements? She didn't know, but she didn't care anymore either.

She didn't reply.

Twenty minutes later, Dominic called.

"Come home. Now."

It was an order.

Penelope sat in the back of the taxi, leaning against the window with her eyes closed for a while. The painkiller was wearing off, her stomach cramping, tightening bit by bit.

She had the taxi change destinations.

Pushing open the door to The Sinclair Villa, the first person Penelope saw was Catherine.

Catherine sat on the living room sofa holding a cushion, makeup perfect, eyes slightly red—she'd apparently been crying and touched up her makeup.

Dominic stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, hands in his pockets, face dark.

Seeing Penelope enter, Catherine stood up first, quickly walking over and grabbing her hand.

"Penelope, please don't be angry anymore, okay? This is all my fault. I'm sorry."

Penelope looked down at the hand gripping her wrist—not too light, not too heavy, just enough for Dominic to see her making peace.

"Don't fight with Dominic because of me, and don't quit. I can find someone else for the PR work." Catherine's voice was soft, but every sentence hit the mark. "Dominic told me yesterday you didn't want to help. I completely understand—if I were you, I'd mind too."

She turned to look at Dominic, a hint of grievance in her voice. "Dominic, don't force Penelope. She has her difficulties."

On the surface, this speech defended Penelope, but it actually confirmed that she'd refused out of jealousy and quit in a fit of anger.

Penelope pulled her hand from Catherine's grip.

The movement wasn't big, but Catherine suddenly staggered back two steps, bumping into the corner of the coffee table. She bent over in pain with a cry.

"Catherine!" Dominic rushed over and grabbed Catherine's shoulders.

Catherine bit her lip and shook her head, tears falling, voice trembling. "I'm fine, I just didn't stand steady."

Dominic turned to look at Penelope.

That look—Penelope knew it well. Ice cold and piercing.

"You pushed her?"

Penelope stood there, neither denying nor explaining.

She watched Dominic carefully check Catherine's side, heard him say to Catherine, "I'll take you to the hospital."

Catherine shook her head, sobbing. "No need, it really doesn't hurt."

Dominic was already bending down to help her up.

That's when Penelope spoke.

"Dominic Sinclair."

She used his full name.

Dominic's movement stopped. In their relationship, she'd always called him Dominic.

Penelope pulled a manila envelope from her bag, walked to the coffee table, pulled out the documents inside, and spread them on the table.

Divorce papers, black and white, clear terms, lawyer's stamp and all.

"Sign it."

No one in the living room spoke.

Catherine looked up, a flash of shock crossing her tear-stained face, quickly hidden.

Dominic let go of Catherine's arm, straightened up, and looked at the agreement on the coffee table.

He seemed to take a few seconds to process what it was.

Then he laughed quietly.

"Penelope, you want to divorce me?"

Penelope stood across the coffee table, hands at her sides, fingertips cold.

"We were never really married, were we?"

Dominic's smile disappeared.

Penelope met his gaze, for the first time not looking away, not backing down.

She said, "I've marked where you need to sign. Take a look, and if there's no problem, sign it."

Dominic's pupils contracted.

Behind him, Catherine's hand clutching his sleeve quietly tightened where Penelope couldn't see.