The soft morning light filtering through Whitney's guest room curtains did little to ease the heaviness in Veronica's chest. She had slept fitfully, the image of Cullen's tender expression as he looked at Niall replaying in her mind. But alongside the familiar ache was something new—a strange sense of relief, as if finally witnessing the depth of his feelings for another woman had lifted a burden she hadn't realized she'd been carrying.

She found Whitney in the kitchen, looking surprisingly alert despite her previous night's condition, intently scrolling through her phone with a steaming cup of coffee in hand.

"You didn't have to get up so early," Veronica said, accepting the mug Whitney offered her. "How's your head?"

"Better than it should be," Whitney admitted, then paused, her expression growing serious. "Ver, have you looked at social media this morning?"

Something in her tone made Veronica's stomach tighten. "No. Should I have?"

Without a word, Whitney turned her phone screen toward her. The display showed a series of photos from what was clearly an intimate birthday celebration. Cullen and Niall cutting a cake together, their bodies angled toward each other with unmistakable intimacy. In another image, Cullen's hand rested possessively on Niall's waist while she gazed up at him, radiant with laughter.

The timestamp showed they were posted by Nate Dante just hours ago, with the caption: "Celebrating our girl Niall! Another year of brilliance and beauty."

Veronica studied the photos with surprising detachment. "Sabrina's not in any of these."

"That's what you're focusing on?" Whitney asked incredulously.

"Cook must have insisted she be kept out of the pictures," Veronica explained, handing the phone back. "Cullen's grandmother despises Niall's family because of the history with my mother."

Whitney searched her face. "You're… oddly calm about this. A month ago, seeing something like this would have devastated you."

Veronica sipped her coffee thoughtfully. "What's there to be devastated about? It's just confirmation of what I already know."

"Yesterday you mentioned divorce papers," Whitney said carefully. "Were you serious about that?"

Setting down her mug, Veronica met her friend's concerned gaze. "I left them on his desk in Bella before I flew back. He probably hasn't even found them yet."

Whitney's eyes widened. "You actually did it. You're really leaving him."

"I already have left him," Veronica said simply. "I'm just making it official now."

"But why now? What finally made you—"

"I'm exhausted, Whitney." The words came out more raw than Veronica intended. "Seven years of disappointment. Seven years of trying to earn love that should be freely given. I used to think if I just worked harder, loved him more completely, proved myself worthy enough… but you can't make someone love you."

Whitney reached across the table, squeezing Veronica's hand. "I've wanted you to leave him for years, but I was afraid you never would. I watched you shrink yourself smaller and smaller, hoping he might finally notice you."

"Well, he noticed Niall easily enough," Veronica said with bitter humor. "The irony is, I spent all those years competing with an ideal I could never reach, only to discover he was capable of that kind of love—just not for me."

Her phone chimed with a meeting reminder. "I should get to the office."

"Are you sure you're ready to face him today?"

Veronica considered the question. "I'm ready to face the end of this charade."

Dennis Pinnacle's executive floor hummed with its usual morning energy when Veronica arrived. She moved through the familiar corridors with newfound purpose, no longer the apologetic wife seeking approval but a woman who had finally accepted the truth of her situation.

As she passed Cullen's office, she glimpsed him through the glass walls, already deep in conversation with a client. Their eyes met briefly across the distance—his cold and assessing, as always. But for the first time, his indifference didn't cut through her like a blade. Instead, she felt only a mild curiosity about what expression he might wear when he finally discovered the divorce papers.

She turned away without acknowledgment, continuing to her own office.

By mid-afternoon, Veronica had immersed herself in reviewing foundation reports when her phone rang. The cold, familiar voice on the other end made her spine straighten involuntarily.

"I need to see you in my office," Cullen said without preamble.

She found him standing behind his desk, reviewing documents with characteristic intensity. He didn't look up when she entered.

"Where were you yesterday afternoon?" he asked, his tone suggesting he already disapproved of whatever answer she might give.

"I had a personal emergency," she replied evenly.

"You left the building without proper notification."

"I sent you a message."

His eyes finally met hers, cold and assessing. "A text message is not appropriate protocol for leaving during business hours."

Veronica studied his face—the sharp jawline she had once found so attractive, the piercing eyes that had never looked at her with warmth. "I'll make sure to follow proper channels next time."

"The Morrison account needs final approval before tomorrow's presentation," he said, shifting papers on his desk. "I assume you've completed the analysis?"

"It's been on your desk since yesterday morning," she replied.

A flicker of surprise crossed his features before he nodded curtly. "That's all."

No thank you. No acknowledgment of her efficiency. Just the expectation that she would continue performing at a high level for a job she had only taken to be closer to him—a fact that now felt more like tragedy than romance.

As she reached the door, Cullen spoke again. "Nate mentioned he saw you at The Meridian yesterday."

She paused without turning. "I was helping Whitney. She'd had too much to drink at a business lunch."

"I see." His tone suggested skepticism. "Sabrina asked where you were at dinner last night."

The casual mention of their daughter sent a familiar pang through Veronica's chest. He had brought Sabrina back early for Niall's birthday celebration and hadn't bothered to inform her.

"What did you tell her?" she asked quietly.

"That you were busy with work." He had already returned his attention to his papers, clearly dismissing her.

The conversation ended there, but as Veronica walked back to her office, she realized something had fundamentally shifted. Cullen's coldness no longer felt like a personal failing on her part—it simply was what it was. For the first time in seven years, she wasn't wondering how she could earn his approval or bridge the distance between them.

The relief was almost overwhelming.

Evening approached more quickly than usual, and Veronica was preparing to leave when her personal phone rang. Her grandmother's name on the screen brought the first genuine smile to her face all day.

"Ver, darling," Mary's warm voice flowed through the speaker like honey. "How are you holding up?"

The simple question, asked with such genuine concern, nearly broke through Veronica's carefully maintained composure. "I'm managing, Grandma."

"You sound tired. Are you eating properly? You were too thin when I saw you last week."

"I'm fine," Veronica assured her, touched by the motherly concern she so rarely received. "Just busy with work."

"Well, I'm making pot roast tonight—your favorite. Why don't you come join us? Your uncle Phillip will be here with the boys."

The thought of her grandmother's cozy kitchen, filled with warmth and unconditional love, was exactly what Veronica needed. "I'd love that."

"Wonderful! Come by whenever you can escape from that corporate prison."

Mary's affectionate dismissal of Dennis Pinnacle made Veronica laugh—the first genuine laughter she'd experienced in days. "I'll be there by seven."

As she ended the call, Veronica felt lighter than she had in weeks. She was gathering her things when Frank Elias appeared in her doorway, carrying a thick manila folder.

"Ms. Murray," he said with barely concealed smugness, "Mr. Dennis needs these contracts reviewed before tomorrow's board meeting." He dropped the folder on her desk with unnecessary force. "He specifically said it was urgent."

Veronica opened the folder and quickly scanned the contents. Standard renewal contracts—nothing that couldn't wait until morning. She recognized this for what it was: Frank testing her, seeing if she would sacrifice her evening as she always had in the past.

"I'll look at these first thing tomorrow morning," she said, closing the folder decisively.

Frank blinked in obvious surprise. "But Mr. Dennis specifically requested—"

"If it were truly urgent, Cullen would have mentioned it during our meeting this afternoon," Veronica interrupted calmly. She placed the folder in her desk drawer and picked up her purse. "I'm not doing this now. I'm done with work for the day."

The shock on Frank's face would have been amusing under different circumstances. In six years of working at Dennis Alliance, she had never once refused additional work, regardless of how unreasonable the timing or how trivial the task.

"But you can't just—"

"Goodnight, Frank," she said firmly, walking past him toward the elevator.

As the doors closed behind her, Frank's indignant expression disappearing from view, Veronica exhaled slowly. The woman who had spent years desperately trying to prove her worth to Cullen Dennis would have canceled her dinner plans and worked through the night on those contracts.

But that woman was gone.

In her place stood someone who finally understood that no amount of sacrifice would ever be enough—and more importantly, someone who no longer wanted to try.

The elevator descended toward the parking garage, carrying her away from Dennis Pinnacle and toward the warmth of family who loved her exactly as she was. For the first time in seven years, Veronica was choosing herself over the demands of a man who had never chosen her in return.

And it felt like freedom.