Web Fic
Novel info
Lady Warrior's Warth on Divorce Day
Beneath the Ruins of Yesterday’s Love
The Necklace, The Betrayal, The Soldier
Zoya Lucero entered Nicolas Mayer’s office with a simple plan — to drop off a project proposal for work. But the moment she stepped through the door, her entire world tilted. There he was — her husband — fastening a ruby necklace around another woman’s neck.
That necklace wasn’t just jewelry to her; it was her mother’s most treasured possession. Zoya had seen it in an auction catalog and begged Nicolas to buy it — the only thing she’d ever asked him for in their three-year marriage. Now, watching him clasp it around Jasmine Ingram’s throat, she felt like her heart had been ripped out.
And Jasmine wasn’t just any woman — she was Nicolas’s ex, his old flame, the one everyone said he never truly got over.
From the side, Darren Vaughan, Nicolas’s obnoxious friend, smirked cruelly. “Typical orphan,” he sneered, “zero class.”
Zoya didn’t react. She moved forward and reached for the necklace — her necklace — dangling mockingly on Jasmine’s neck. But before her fingers could touch it, Nicolas grabbed her wrist, his eyes cold. “It’s Jasmine’s now.”
Zoya froze. “You promised it to me!” she whispered, fury and heartbreak colliding in her voice.
Nicolas’s face hardened. “Cool it, Zoya. It’s a gift for Jasmine — she just got promoted to co-pilot.”
Those words broke something inside her. She wasn’t jealous of the promotion — she was devastated by the betrayal.
Darren laughed nastily, egging Nicolas on. “Told you, Nick. Zoya’s not your level — greedy, no talent. Cut her loose. Jasmine fits you.”
Everyone knew Nicolas and Zoya’s marriage was private, hidden from the world. But everyone also knew Nicolas and Jasmine’s past — the chemistry, the history.
Jasmine gave a mock sigh, pretending to be above the drama. “I’m not here to wreck homes.” Then, with exaggerated grace, she pulled the ruby necklace off and dropped it — on the floor.
The million-dollar necklace hit the ground like a slap.
Zoya’s breath caught. That wasn’t just an ornament — it was her mother’s soul. Her mother had once traded that necklace in a war zone for food and medicine, saving fifty orphaned children. Zoya had dreamed of reclaiming it as a tribute to her mother’s courage. Now, it was lying in the dirt at her feet.
She bent down, slowly picking it up, the sharp edges digging into her palm. Jasmine smirked from above. “Real women chase goals, not shiny junk,” she said, voice dripping with arrogance.
Darren joined in, mocking her education, her background. “What’s she got going for her? A fake degree? If Nick hadn’t tossed her a job, she’d be cleaning gutters.”
Zoya didn’t respond to him. She just stood tall, locking eyes with Jasmine. “You say you’re not a homewrecker, but you’re fine taking million-dollar gifts from another woman’s man?”
Jasmine tried to act innocent. “It’s just a friend thing.”
Zoya shot back instantly, “Oh, really? Your friend Darren ever drop a million on you?”
The room fell silent. Even Darren flinched.
Finally, Nicolas’s voice cut through the tension. “Enough. It’s just a necklace. Don’t make it a big deal.”
But to Zoya, it wasn’t just a necklace. It was the only piece of her mother left in this world.
She clenched it tightly, holding back tears, when she remembered the phone call she’d gotten earlier that day: her parents’ ashes were finally being flown back to Ranard City.
She looked Nicolas straight in the eyes. “Fine, forget the necklace. Tomorrow, my parents’ ashes are arriving. I want you there with me.”
It wasn’t a demand. It was a plea — one last chance to see if he still respected her, if there was still anything left between them.
Nicolas hesitated. He remembered Zoya once mentioning her parents had died abroad. Jasmine’s expression flickered with annoyance, but before she could speak, Darren cut in with another cruel jab. “You’ve got guts, Zoya, spinning sob stories about your parents to guilt Nick into going with you.”
Zoya ignored him. Her eyes stayed on Nicolas.
After a moment, Nicolas sighed. His expression softened slightly. “Alright,” he said quietly. “I’ll go with you tomorrow.”
Zoya didn’t respond. She simply turned and left the room, holding the necklace tightly in her hand.
As the door shut behind her, she heard Darren’s mocking tone. “You’re really going with her?”
And Nicolas’s reply, steady but distant: “She’s my wife. I should be there to pick up her parents’ ashes.”
Darren scoffed. “She’s lying. Who ships an orphan’s parents’ ashes halfway across the world?”
That word — orphan — hit Zoya like a bullet.
Outside, in the hallway, she looked down at the necklace and whispered, “Mom, Dad, I’ll be there to bring you home tomorrow.”
The next morning, she waited. And waited. But Nicolas never showed.
Anxious, she called him. His voice came through, cold and distracted. “Jasmine’s mom sprained her ankle. I’m at the hospital with her.”
Zoya’s fingers trembled. She could hear Jasmine’s voice in the background — light, teasing, intimate. “Come on, Nicolas, get over here and help me with Mom.”
And he answered warmly, “On it.”
The line went dead.
Zoya stared at the phone, her chest hollow. Her husband could rush to help his ex’s mother over a twisted ankle — but couldn’t stand by his wife to collect her parents’ ashes.
Her throat burned, but she didn’t cry. Not anymore.
She stood up, straightened her back, and walked out of the house.
The drive to the military base was quiet — no tears, no music, just the hum of the engine and the storm building inside her.
When she reached the gates, the guards stood at attention, rifles gleaming in the sunlight.
Zoya stepped out, tall and proud. Her posture alone revealed her past — three years out of the service, but she still carried herself like the soldier she once was.
She approached the entrance, squared her shoulders, and saluted sharply.
Then, in a clear, unwavering voice, she declared:
“Zoya Lucero, former Alpha Special Ops, here to retrieve the ashes of Lieutenant Felix Lucero and Medic Celina Lucero, Horizon Watch Regiment!”
Her words echoed across the base — steady, proud, filled with heartbreak and honor.
For a long moment, silence hung in the air. Then, slowly, the massive gates began to open.
Zoya stood tall, a single figure against the morning light — a soldier, a daughter, a betrayed wife.
She might have lost everything — love, respect, trust — but she still had her dignity, her strength, and her parents’ legacy.
And as the gates opened wider, she stepped forward without hesitation.
Because some homecomings, she realized, you face alone.
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