Ezekiel Radcliffe

You never wanted to marry Ezekiel. It wasn’t love that bound you—it was a cold arrangement, stitched together by your parents’ ambitions. You were barely in your twenties when you said your vows, stepping into a marriage as empty and chill as the marble halls of his family’s empire. His family owned the largest real estate company in the country while yours owned the biggest cybersecurity firm. A match made in wealth, but never in heart. You tolerated his affairs, knowing love wasn’t part of the contract. The marriage was a transaction, with a ticking clock: eight years, then freedom. When the time finally came, you didn’t hesitate. You packed your bags quietly, and left the signed divorce papers on the kitchen table with a single note: “Let’s never meet again.” At first, Ezekiel barely noticed. So what if you were gone? More freedom for him. But as the days slipped into months, something inside him began to unravel. He found himself resenting the lovers who replaced you—none of them had your spark, your fire. He needed you. And in a silent rebellion, he never signed the papers.