The divorce went through swiftly, quietly.
No announcements. No scenes. No family drama—because no one knew. Their parents didn't know. Not yet. That confrontation would come later—if ever. Cassidy didn't owe them anything anymore.
Cassidy didn't plan it that way to be cruel. She just couldn't bear another negotiation over her life. And surprisingly, Zeke didn't fight her decision to keep it between just the two of them.
Cassidy and Zeke had signed the papers in silence, like two strangers politely ending a business contract. And just like that, four years of shared walls, shared beds, and shared silences were over.
But she owed something to the two people who had treated her the most like family.
Even if they only did so because she had Zeke's name.
Still, a quiet guilt nestled in her chest—toward two people who had shown her nothing but warmth.
Zeke's grandparents.
Not his parents, not the business partners, not the press—but Bastiano Salvador, Zeke's paternal grandfather, and Grandmother Elise, his maternal grandmother. They had embraced Cassidy since the day she joined the family. Not for the alliance, not for her pedigree—but as a person.
Before the papers were finalized, Cassidy visited them both—separately. They lived alone now in different wings of the sprawling Salvador estate, each attended by long-trusted staff, still regal in presence despite age slowly catching up to them.
The first visit was to Bastiano.
He greeted her at the door himself.
"Cassidy!" he beamed, his arms open wide. "You bring the sunshine into this old house."
"Grandpa..."
He welcomed her with a warmth that made her throat tighten. "Cassidy, my girl! The only reason I ever bother changing out of my robe in the morning."
His hug was firm, heartening. At seventy-three, Bastiano Salvador looked far younger than he should. Silver-haired and still tall, his back unbent by time or status. The patriarch of the Salvador line, and yet—never a man to flaunt it. His humility had always made Cassidy feel safe in a world where most people wore power like armor.
She smiled, even as guilt coiled in her stomach. She'd brought fruit and supplements and asked him about his health—though he looked as unshakable as ever. At seventy-three, Bastiano still had the presence of a king and the soul of a farmer. Humble, grounded, dignified.
"You look strong as ever, Grandpa Bastian," she said.
"I still swim twice a week," he boasted. "Doctor says I'm healthier than men half my age."
"That's amazing," Cassidy said. "You always take care of yourself better than Zeke does."
He laughed. "He's always too busy trying to take care of everyone else." He chuckled. "I eat well, I sleep early, and I stay away from family politics. Works like a charm."
They sat in the sunroom overlooking the courtyard. Cassidy made small talk at first—his health, his books, the changes in the city. But her heart thudded with the truth she hadn't yet said.
After a long pause, she finally spoke.
"I wanted to tell you in person... Zeke and I are getting a divorce."
The silence fell like a velvet curtain. Not loud. Not cruel. Just... inevitable.
Bastiano didn't look shocked. Only tired.
"I see."
Cassidy couldn't meet his eyes. "I'm sorry. I truly tried."
"I always knew something was missing between you two. I just hoped time would build it."
I'm sorry," Cassidy whispered.
"I know you did," he said gently. "I'm just sorry he couldn't meet you there."
He set down his cup. "You were a good wife to him, Cassidy. A better one than he probably deserved."
Cassidy looked up, surprised by the kindness in his voice.
"You know," Bastiano continued, swirling the tea in his glass, "Zeke is my pride, but also my deepest puzzle. He's a brilliant boy, but he's spent too long trying not to feel. I always hoped you'd be the one to melt that wall."
He sighed. "But even love can't bloom on stone, can it?"
Cassidy felt tears press behind her eyes—but she held them back.
"I hope you'll still visit, sometimes," Bastiano added, his voice lighter. "I won't stop being your grandpa just because my grandson is a fool."
Cassidy smiled, but the weight in her chest grew heavier. "I want to, but... it might be difficult. With the media, with both our families watching..."
He nodded. "Then do what's safe. But know there's always tea waiting for you here. And I'll still be reading your favorite poets."
Cassidy didn't answer. She only reached out and took his hand.
In silence, they sat there for a little longer. No headlines. No witnesses. Just a girl saying goodbye to the only man who had ever called her family without condition.
**
The moment Cassidy stepped into the glass garden room, she was greeted with the scent of fresh jasmine and the soft sound of Elise humming an old Italian lullaby. Grandmother Elise sat beneath a canopy of vines, her delicate fingers cradling a porcelain teacup, her silver hair glowing in the filtered light.
When she saw Cassidy, her eyes brightened.
"My dear girl," she said, her voice warm and sincere. "Come, sit with me. It's been far too long."
Cassidy smiled, her heart a little heavier than usual. She handed Elise a small package.
"Your favorite herbal tea," she said. "Thought you might like it."
Elise beamed. "You always remember the little things. Thank you, Cassidy. You've been a light in this family."
Cassidy sat beside her, hands clasped nervously on her lap. They spoke about the garden, about Elise's latest charity events, about the birds that nested just outside the window.
But eventually, Cassidy took a breath. A long, steady one.
"I came today because there's something I need to tell you in person."
Elise turned to her, concern slowly forming in her eyes.
"Zeke and I... we've decided to get a divorce."
The teacup in Elise's hand lowered gently to its saucer. She blinked slowly, digesting the words.
"For heaven's sake..." she whispered, then steadied herself. "Is it truly beyond repair, dear? Is there no room left to try?"
Cassidy's voice was calm, but firm. "We've tried. For years. There's no love between us. And I think we both deserve more than a quiet, distant life."
Elise's matriarchal instinct rose—her need to preserve, to protect the family name and its foundation.
"But marriage isn't just about love," she said softly. "Sometimes it's about choosing to stay, even when the feelings fade. Are you certain this is the only way?"
Cassidy nodded slowly, eyes meeting hers with quiet conviction. "Yes, I am."
Silence stretched between them, heavy but not hostile.
Finally, Elise let out a breath. Long and tired.
"Then I won't try to change your mind," she said. "You're both adults. And I raised Zeke to make his own decisions—just as you are making yours now."
She reached out, gently holding Cassidy's hand. Her grip was light, but steady.
"Just know, Cassidy... my fondness for you was never conditional. You were family to me. Still are, in my heart."
Cassidy blinked quickly, holding back tears.
"That means more to me than you know."
Elise gave her a soft, sad smile. "Take care of yourself, my dear. And if you ever find yourself needing a place to rest, this house is always open to you."
Cassidy stood, her throat tight with emotion.
"Thank you, Grandma. Truly."
As she walked away, Cassidy felt both the weight of loss and the strange comfort of knowing she had left with grace—and that somewhere in the city, in that glass garden room, someone still wished her well.