I used my health as an excuse and had Tomas send them away. The moment they left, I called my lawyer and had him draft the divorce papers.
I slipped them between my prenatal checkup reports and sweet-talked Tomas into signing them without a second thought.
In one month, after the mandatory cooling-off period, the divorce would be final.
The effective date? Tomas’s birthday.
The same day I planned to leave this place for good.
***
For the next month, Tomas was ecstatic.
He couldn’t stop talking about the baby, about our future—Completely unaware that soon, both would be gone.
He even went so far as to remodel two of the villa’s bedrooms into nurseries—one pink, one blue.
“That way,” he said, “no matter if it’s a boy or a girl, everything will be ready.”
He even started talking about having a second child, already dreaming of a perfect family with a son and a daughter.
I sneered inwardly. 'Tomas, I hope you’ll still be smiling on your birthday.'
***
The day finally arrived.
Early that morning, he wrapped me in his arms, saying he wanted to take me out to celebrate—But before we could leave, Camila called.