The Return of the Neglected Wife

I hadn't expected it to be this hard to get away. But here I was, standing on the edge of the grand ballroom, my heart pounding with a kind of frantic rhythm I hadn't heard in a long time. I had turned my back on Nixus, and while part of me knew that was the right thing to do, another part—a part I refused to acknowledge—was still tethered to him in ways I couldn't completely sever.

The fact that I was still aware of his presence, still affected by his gaze, was something I wasn't proud of. After all, I had spent two years painstakingly rebuilding myself, piece by broken piece, until I was standing here in a gown that made the room stop and stare. My confidence had been my armor, my pride. And yet, as much as I tried to convince myself otherwise, his presence still rattled me.

I didn't look back. Not once. Not even when I felt his eyes burn into the back of my neck. I refused to let him see me falter.

But then, just as I was turning the corner to escape into the quieter side of the event, I felt a familiar rush of air. I froze mid-step. The very air around me seemed to charge, crackling with energy. I didn't have to look to know who it was. He was too close now.

"Malia," came his voice—low, dangerous. A voice that had once held so much power over me.

I sucked in a breath but kept my back turned. He was right there. I could feel the heat of his presence, the magnetic force that always pulled me toward him. He was too close. So close that I could almost feel the tension in the air, like an invisible cord pulling me toward him.

But I wasn't the woman I used to be. I had changed. He couldn't have me anymore.

I spun on my heel and forced a tight, controlled smile onto my lips, turning to face him directly. He stood there, towering and imposing, the way he always had. His black suit, sharp and flawless, only enhanced the arrogant edge he always carried. His dark hair was perfectly styled, and those eyes—those eyes that had once captivated me with their intensity—now only filled me with a simmering frustration I couldn't shake.

"You shouldn't be here," I said, my voice steady, despite the rush of emotions I felt threatening to bubble to the surface. "I'm not the woman you used to know."

He stared at me for a long moment, the silence between us stretching until it felt suffocating. Then he took a step forward, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

"I can see that," he said, his voice tight. "But what I don't understand is how you could leave, disappear for two years, and come back like this."

I crossed my arms, a defensive gesture, even though I didn't feel the need to protect myself anymore. Not from him.

"You have no right to question me," I said coldly. "You don't get to come in here and act like you're entitled to anything from me. Not after what you did."

I watched as his jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in the side of his face. The calm, collected man I had once known—who could manipulate entire industries with just a few words—seemed to unravel before me. His dark eyes flicked over me, taking in every detail—the change in my posture, the way my confidence radiated from me now.

"You're different," he muttered, more to himself than to me. His eyes lingered on my face, studying the changes. "But this—this confidence of yours... It's not you. This isn't who you are."

I scoffed. "No, Nixus. This is who I am. The woman who can stand on her own two feet without you." My voice dropped, harder, sharper. "The woman who doesn't need you, doesn't need anyone to define who she is anymore."

He opened his mouth to say something, but I didn't give him the chance.

"You're angry because I'm not the one you left behind," I continued, taking a step closer to him. "You thought you could walk away, and I would just crumble. Well, guess what? I didn't. You don't get to come back into my life, like you own me, like you're the one who gets to decide who I am."

The words were coming faster now, almost too fast, fueled by the anger I'd carried for so long.

"You don't get to decide how I feel anymore," I added, my voice lowering to a dangerous tone. "You're not the one who gets to control me. Not anymore."

For a moment, he just stood there. Silent. His expression unreadable, but I could see the flicker of something behind his eyes—surprise, frustration, maybe even disbelief. Whatever it was, it was too late for him to do anything about it.

Before he could respond, I turned sharply on my heel and walked away, my heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. I wasn't going to let him see how much he still rattled me. I wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. Not now, not ever again.

I didn't expect to feel the overwhelming rush of emotions that washed over me as I walked away. I didn't expect to feel anything at all. But it hit me, like a freight train, the moment I stepped outside into the crisp night air.

I leaned against the cool marble pillar, trying to steady myself. My breath came out in sharp, shaky gasps, and I cursed myself for letting him get to me. He doesn't control you. He doesn't own you anymore.

But still, I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. Something I couldn't quite name.

It wasn't until hours later that I realized how much his presence had affected me—how much he had always affected me, even when I tried so hard to block him out.

The city skyline gleamed in the distance as I arrived back at my apartment, the night stretching endlessly before me. I kicked off my heels, tossing them aside as I flopped onto the couch, my mind racing. Everything had happened so fast tonight. Nixus' return, the confrontation, the weight of everything he'd put me through all rushing back like a tidal wave.

But then something caught my eye.

A file on my coffee table.

I hadn't left anything there, so it could only mean one thing—it was his. The file that had been buried deep inside my desk at work.

Curious, I opened it. The weight of the paper was familiar, cold. My fingers traced the words as I read the title.

Divorce Papers.

I had forgotten about them. How could I? It had been two years, and yet the legal documents had remained unsigned, sitting there like a heavy, invisible thread between us. He had never signed them. Never acknowledged them.

I sat there for a long moment, the silence of the room wrapping around me as I stared at the papers. What was I supposed to do now? I thought I had left that chapter behind. I thought I was free.

But as I ran my fingers over the cold, crisp signature line, I felt an almost irresistible pull. The moment was like a ticking clock, counting down to something. Something that I wasn't ready to face.

~~

Meanwhile, at his office, Nixus sat at his desk, his mind racing. The encounter at the gala had left him unsettled in a way he couldn't quite explain. Malia had been different. Not the same woman he had discarded two years ago. She had changed, and not just on the outside. She had transformed into someone fierce, someone who no longer allowed him to control her.

He had tried to push her buttons tonight, tried to remind her of the hold he once had over her, but she had stood her ground. Her confidence, her poise—it was infuriating. And yet, it made him want her more.

His eyes moved over the papers on his desk, landing on the divorce papers. He hadn't signed them—hadn't even thought about them since that night. But now, they were there, staring back at him.

He couldn't let her slip away again. He had lost her once. He wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

He reached for the papers. His fingers grazed the signature line, and a dark, determined smile crept onto his lips.

She hadn't signed it, either. Which meant—he still had a chance. And this time, he would make sure she didn't get away.

He gripped the papers tightly in his hands, his gaze burning with resolve. Tonight, he would reclaim what was rightfully his.