Nine Years of Marriage, Ten Divorces Novel – Theodore Winthrop and I had spent nine tumultuous years together, during which we divorced ten times. On the eleventh occasion, I followed him to a jewelry store where he assisted his lover, Valentina Sokolov, in selecting a diamond ring.
He stated with unsettling calmness, “She’s pregnant. Just pretend this is temporary.” Unmoved by any sense of guilt, he added, “We’ll remarry in eight months.” “Until then, you need to move out. I’ll have your meals sent to you daily.” “Oh, and don’t forget to sign the divorce papers. Valentina’s in a delicate condition right now; she can’t manage a baby on her own.” I took the divorce papers from him, nodding quietly.
As I turned to leave, peals of laughter erupted behind me—his friends, reveling in his bravado. “Theodore is something else,” one of them chimed, unable to contain his amusement. “He’s turned his ex-wife into a servant!” Theodore chuckled heartily, puffing his chest with pride. “This is nothing. Genevieve is cheap. Even if I don’t remarry her, she’ll still care for my child as if she were a mistress.” Silence enveloped me.
My gaze fell to my phone as I typed out a message to the man I had been speaking to.[Genevieve Delacroix: I have the divorce certificate now. When are we getting married?] His response was swift.
[Tomorrow. I’m taking the earliest flight home.] Moments later, my phone buzzed again—a notification announcing a deposit of fifty-two million dollars into my account, accompanied by a message. [Gift for our engagement.] A smile crept across my face as I slid my phone back into my pocket. Theodore noticed my smile and scowled. “Genevieve, what could possibly amuse you?” he queried, his tone dripping with coldness. “Are you so heartbroken you’ve lost your mind?” In theory, I should have been devastated.
I recalled the first time he asked for a divorce because of Valentina; it felt as if the world had come crashing down. I cried for three days and nights, begging him not to leave, even kneeling before our friends and family in desperation. When he still walked away, I succumbed to despair and harmed myself. He never returned. But this time, I felt nothing.
I met his gaze, my expression blank. “Congratulations,” I said, a flatness in my voice. “You’re finally going to be a father.” He nodded, his manner indifferent. “Don’t worry; we’ll marry again after the baby arrives,” he replied. “As long as you behave, I’ll even have the child call you ‘Mom’ in front of others.” I had heard words like these far too often over the past nine years, a painful repetition that had dulled my senses.