Please Divorce Me, Alpha! {BL}

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I found myself staring at the floor, slowly rolling the bottle between my hands. It was supposed to be a simple question.

At least, that’s how it should’ve been. If my marriage had resembled the kind of fairy tale people seemed to imagine when they looked at Lorenzo and me, I could’ve answered right away.

But let’s be honest here...my marriage in reality was a fucking shit show.

If I were a guy who married someone he loved and wasn’t basically sold to him, who chose to stick around, who never had to fight for the chance to leave, then maybe happiness wouldn’t feel so complicated.

But my marriage started with a contract, a sum of money, and the expectation that eventually, I’d walk away.

Then Lorenzo shifted everything. Somewhere along the way...amid the arguments, the fear, the affection, and those moments when I found myself genuinely looking forward to his company.

I became completely lost about what I wanted.

”I don’t know,” I finally admitted, glancing at Nikolai who had shifted his gaze toward me. I chuckled quietly, even though it didn’t feel very funny. ”That’s a terrible answer, isn’t it?”

”It’s an honest one.”

”Unfortunately.” I looked down at my hands. ”Sometimes I’m happy with him. Other times, I want to throw him out the nearest window just to see him scream on the way down. Occasionally, I feel both at once.”

Nikolai didn’t smile. ”And if you had the chance to leave?”

I looked up to find him watching me closely, his expression hard to decipher.

”Would you still go?”

The question settled heavily between us. For a moment, I was speechless. I thought about the seventy million dollars, the divorce papers, the life I had envisioned before Lorenzo stepped in.

I thought about the freedom I craved, the places I wanted to visit, and the simple experiences I could never afford.

Then there were the times Lorenzo held me when sleep evaded me, the way he remembered little things I’d said, and the strange comfort I found in the sound of his footsteps approaching our room.

I realized I no longer counted the days until I could leave, and that truth scared me more than I cared to admit.

”I...” I hesitated.

Well...holy fuck.

Lorenzo truly had won, hadn’t he?

Nikolai’s expression shifted almost imperceptibly. He looked away, as if he regretted asking. ”Forget I asked.”

”Nikolai—”

”We should continue.” He stood before I could say anything else and grabbed his water bottle. ”Put on your shoes, we’re going for a jog around the lake.”

I stared at him, bewildered. ”Wait...what?”

”You heard me.”

”Nikolai, I just spent two hours being tortured by your questionable training methods!”

”Then think of this as additional practice.”

”Practice for what? My funeral?,!” He headed toward the door.

”Five laps.”

I jumped to my feet. ”FIVE?!”

”Six if you keep complaining.” I followed him out of the training room, already regretting every conversation that led to this moment.

”You can’t just hit me with emotionally devastating questions and then make me run around a lake, you fucking snitch!”

”Apparently, I can.”

”You’re avoiding the conversation!”

”I’m your instructor, not your therapist.”

”Then stop asking questions that need therapy!”

He remained silent to that.

I watched his back as we walked toward the grounds, my irritation slowly morphing into an uncomfortable feeling that there was more behind his questions than mere curiosity.

Nikolai had always been hard to read, but that morning, he felt particularly distant.

I wondered if he was unhappy with the answer I hadn’t given or if he’d hoped I would say something completely different.

I couldn’t decide which thought bothered me more.

The next morning, Lorenzo told me we were going to visit Frederick’s grave. He said it over breakfast with the same calm voice he used when discussing a new car he’d arranged for or when an important business associate was coming to dinner.

I looked up from my plate, surprised. ”We’re going where?”

”To my father’s grave.”

I blinked. ”Oh.”

He studied my reaction for a moment. ”Would you like to come?” I mulled it over.

Frederick had been one of the few in the Castelli family who showed me real kindness from the start.

He never acted like my marriage to Lorenzo was some romantic fairy tale and understood the deal I’d made to join the family.

Still, he never treated me like a transaction. He’d asked about my studies, listened to my complaints, and offered advice that I’d only come to appreciate later.

He was also responsible for some of the most uncomfortable conversations I’d ever had with Lorenzo, especially when he started bringing up grandchildren.

I had missed him more than I let on.

”Of course I’ll come,” I replied, it would be nice to visit his grave with company this time around.

Lorenzo nodded. ”We’ll leave after breakfast.”

I glanced at him. ”Do we really need to bring half the security team?”

His expression remained steady. ”Yes.”

I sighed. ”It’s a graveyard, Lorenzo. I don’t think anyone’s planning to kidnap us around the dead.”

”I’m not taking chances.”

”That’s a very dramatic approach to a cemetery visit.”

”It’s a necessary one.” I shot him a look. ”Do you ever get tired of being paranoid?”

”No.”

”At least you’re honest.” The drive to the cemetery was short, but the convoy made it feel like we were escorting a major political figure rather than just visiting a grave.

We had two cars ahead of us, one behind, and armed men in each. A few guards were also assigned to patrol ahead, which felt both comforting and a bit ridiculous.

I watched the security formation through the window. ”I’m starting to think you don’t trust anyone.”

Lorenzo glanced at me. ”I trust people who have earned it.”

”And how does one earn your trust, Dracula?”

”That’s a long process.” I asked, ”Do you have an application form?”

He smirked softly. ”Would you like one?”

”Only if it comes with a free pen.”

He took my hand in his. ”You’re safe, my love. I trust you completely.”

I looked at our joined hands. ”O...okay.”

The words slipped out before I could second-guess myself. Lorenzo’s thumb brushed over my knuckles, and I turned to look out the window, becoming suddenly very interested in the scenery.

The cemetery was quiet when we arrived, trees lining the paths and well-kept lawns stretching between the gravestones.

There was this faint smell of damp earth and flowers in the air, and the distant calls of birds overhead added to the peaceful vibe.

A few other visitors were nearby, but the guards had already cleared a path to the Castelli family plot.

I stepped out of the car, immediately aware of Lorenzo’s security detail fanning out around us.

I sighed. ”Are they going to follow us all the way to the headstone?”

”They’ll keep their distance.”

”Wonderful. Nothing says intimate family visit like six armed men spying on us from behind a tree.”

Lorenzo placed a hand on my lower back. ”Come on, tesoro.”

We walked along the stone path until we reached Frederick’s grave, nestled under a large tree with a wide canopy.

The headstone was dark marble, shiny and well-maintained, with his name carved across the front.

I paused in front of it, taking it all in. Frederick Castelli.

I recalled the first time he asked me to sit with him, complaining about the bland food the doctors recommended and asking me to read my books about travelling to him.

My throat tightened. I crouched down to place the white flowers I’d brought at the base of the headstone, arranging them carefully so they wouldn’t fall over.

”Hello, Frederick,” I whispered. Lorenzo stood quietly beside me and I gazed at the headstone. ”Your son has been extremely annoying lately.”

Lorenzo glanced down at me. ”Alex, behave.”