The scent of searing steak hung heavy in the air, mingling with the unspoken tension that had become a constant companion in Renee Everheart's four-year marriage. Behind her, Stefan Hunt's voice, as cold and sharp as a winter wind, cut through the quiet.

"Let’s get a divorce, Renee."

Her hand, gripping the pan, didn't falter. The hot oil splattered, tiny fiery kisses on her cheek, but Renee felt nothing. She had learned long ago to become numb.

"We’re only husband and wife on paper. Now that four years have passed, it’s time to end this," Stefan continued, his tone distant, devoid of warmth. Renee bit her lip, the truth of his words a bitter taste. This day, it seemed, was finally here.

He pushed a document across the polished counter. "I’ll give you 40 million dollars and a penthouse at Long Beach. Here are the divorce papers. Sign them if you have no objections." His expression was stern, his eyes, so often admired, now held only the cold indifference of a business transaction.

Renee skimmed the numbers. Forty million. A tidy sum for four years of playing the perfect, docile wife. 'The Hunts are still as wealthy as ever,' she mused internally.

"Do we have to?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper, looking at the handsome, unyielding face of the man she had loved in silence.

"Yes," he replied, without a flicker of hesitation. Her heart stung, a familiar ache. But Renee Everheart was not one to prolong a losing battle. With a decisive breath, she picked up the pen.

'Whatever, I got 40 million for the years I’ve spent being his wife. This is more than worth it!' she thought, and then, with a flourish, she signed.