After seven years of marriage, Harrison Sterling’s trophy wife finally got bored. She turned to leave, dropping only one sentence behind her: "Harrison, I’ve cashed out enough. As for you? I don’t want you anymore." I watched from the sidelines, cold and detached, waiting to see how long Harrison would tolerate it this time. After all, this scene had played out constantly over the last three years. But this time, his laugh was freezing. "Just a pet. Does she really think I’d keep her in my heart?" That was until the news broke shortly after: a car crash. No survivors. The man who had always been made of ice and steel instantly went mad. 1 After Bella died, Harrison acted like a man possessed. He locked himself in his study, refusing food or water. I went to knock on the door. The only response was a cold, singular command: "Get out." I knew he was grieving. I wanted to apologize. But I shut my mouth, realizing how pathetic that instinct was. We hadn't divorced yet. He was the one who cheated. He was the one who strayed. Why should I be the one to say sorry? I looked at the cold dinner on the table. The soup I had simmered for five hours had congealed, a layer of grease hardening on top. It smelled faintly of rot. I scraped it all into the trash compactor. Just like our twenty-year history. If I didn't throw it out now, it would only fester and breed maggots. Disgusting to me, and disgusting to everyone else. On the eighth day, Harrison finally emerged. He had cleaned himself up, shaved, and returned to that untouchable, high-and-mighty persona. But the way he looked at me was darker than ever before. As if the death of the woman he loved was my fault. I stared back calmly, waiting for the verdict. I knew a storm was coming. We had known each other for years, married for seven. From prep school uniforms to wedding gowns, I always thought we were walking the same path. But halfway through the journey, someone decided to get off the train. I was forced to accept it. "Where is she?" Harrison’s voice was dead, void of any emotion. After a long silence, I answered softly, "Buried." Harrison’s face went black instantly. His eyes locked onto me with intense hatred. "Elena Vance, who gave you permission to bury her?" "With your dirty hands, do you think... you... deserve... to touch her?" He gritted his teeth, enunciating every word with ferocity. I could feel it. If I wasn't pregnant right now, he would have rushed over to strangle me. But I overestimated my position in his heart. The next second, I was pinned against the sofa. A large hand tightened around my throat, squeezing the last bit of air from my lungs. The world spun. Darkness encroached on my vision. Sounds faded into a buzz. His tone was manic. "You think just because you're pregnant, I can't touch you?" "A bastard child. Do you really think I care?" "Bella is dead. Don't worry. You and the little mongrel in your belly are next." The terror of suffocation made me try to beg for help, but his grip was iron. I couldn't make a sound. I realized then: Harrison really wanted me dead. I don't know how much time passed before the weight lifted. A massive slam of the door followed. Consciousness slowly returned. I sat there, dazed, on the sofa. I picked up my phone and scheduled an appointment at the clinic. 2 Harrison and I were childhood sweethearts, but we were also a merger. Our parents finalized the business partnership when we were three. We signed the marriage license before we even graduated college. Life after the wedding was harmonious, even happy. maybe it was his upbringing, but Harrison was desensitized to everything. He didn't know how to yield, how to love, or how to say sweet things. But back then, he would prepare small surprises. On my birthdays, he would bake a cake himself. Then, like a magic trick, he’d produce the necklace I’d been eyeing for months, hugging me tight. "Elena, I’m not heartless. Just give me some time. I’ll learn how to love you properly." "Don't give up on me, okay?" Every time he said that, I would nod vigorously, whispering that we had a lifetime. In the heat of the night, he would press close to my ear, whispering intimate things that made my heart race. When did it change? Maybe the day Harrison met Bella. I had been sick the day before, so I couldn't make it to a scheduled event. He went alone. Bella was the client's assistant. Fresh out of college, radiating nervousness. A shy smile. Harmless. Cute. She didn't know how to play golf, so she boldly asked Harrison to teach her. They exchanged numbers. From meeting to making it official, it took less than two weeks. Bella quit her job and moved to his company. Harrison kept her by his side, teaching her everything, meticulously cultivating her like a rose waiting to bloom. The funny thing is, I never even got the chance to confront her. Harrison hid her well. I tried to investigate, but found nothing. Instead, I faced his rage the next day. Once, I paid a fortune to get Bella’s personal file. Before I could make a move, a dossier on my father’s mistresses landed on my desk. And not just my dad. Every dirty secret of the Vance family was there. Harrison’s warning was clear: If I touched Bella, my family’s reputation would be destroyed instantly. That night, I smashed everything in the villa. Harrison just sat on the sofa, watching me destroy the room with total indifference. He looked at me like I was the crazy one. The irony is... Now he’s the one who’s lost his mind. 3 That night, just as I fell asleep, his assistant called me. "Ms. Vance, the CEO is at the cemetery. He’s... he’s trying to dig up the grave. Please, come talk to him." I laughed. I was the wife Harrison brought home, yet everyone called Bella "The Missus" and me "Ms. Vance." Ever since I decided to divorce him and ghosted the appointment, Harrison had announced on social media: Bella is the only wife I will ever recognize. After that day, I became the laughingstock of Manhattan. My lips curled into a smile, though my neck still throbbed with pain. "Call the Sterling family. Don't tell me. It has nothing to do with me." I hung up. I didn't think Harrison was capable of grave robbing. Since he got together with Bella, we talked about divorce more often than we ate dinner. It never happened. Either I refused, or Bella called him away with some emergency. The last time was two months ago. Harrison offered me half his assets to sign the papers. I agreed. But the day before we were to sign, I found out I was pregnant. I didn't show up. Harrison blew up my phone that day. That was also the day Bella left. Harrison’s grandfather found out and talked to him all night. Harrison might ignore everyone else, but he respected the old man. The next day, Harrison recalled all his private investigators. He stopped searching the world for her. We stopped talking. No one mentioned divorce. I thought, even if he didn't care about me, he would care about the heir. Now I see that trying to trap a man with a child was the most pathetic thing I’ve ever done. The next day, I went to the clinic. I’m not a saint. I didn't want to be a single mother. I could accept not being loved, but my child deserved to be born into a whole family. The procedure was quick. I was discharged that afternoon. Now that the baby was gone, divorce was just a piece of paper. Harrison hadn't shown up once. He was scouring the earth for his little lover. He refused to believe Bella was really dead. 4 Seven years of marriage. My belongings weren't many, but they weren't few. I hired some workers and set up a fire pit in the backyard. Everything that could burn, I burned. The jewelry and bags I sold. I didn't want to take a single thread from this villa. I didn't want to leave a trace. Might as well burn it all. When Harrison returned, he saw me throwing our wedding portrait into the fire. I was surprised. I hadn't seen him in a month; I assumed he’d committed suicide out of grief. Through the smoke, his eyes were freezing. He looked at me like I was a corpse. He was holding an urn in his arms. As he passed me, Harrison suddenly reached out and shoved me hard. If the butler hadn't caught me, I would have fallen face-first into the fire. A chill shot up from my feet. Harrison was insane. He wanted to disfigure me as revenge. Harrison clicked his tongue, sounding disappointed. "Clean this up." He turned to go upstairs. A nameless fire erupted in my chest. Harrison keeping a mistress? I tolerated it. Threatening my family? I tolerated it. Bella’s provocations? I tolerated it. A drunken night that forced a pregnancy on me? I tolerated that too. I endured it all for three years. Now he openly wanted me dead. I was done enduring. If that's how it is, let's all burn. I chased after him, grabbed Harrison’s arm, and spun him around. I slapped him with everything I had. His head snapped to the side. He stared back at me, his gaze lethal. Seeing the red handprint on Harrison’s face gave me a thrill of satisfaction. "Tomorrow morning at nine. The courthouse. Divorce." "Bella’s death isn't my fault. Don't pour your dirty water on me. You know how I got pregnant. The reason I didn't show up for the divorce was because your mother took me to the family estate." "And your little lover? Your mother ordered the burial personally because she couldn't stand seeing you act like a ghost. Don't pin your daddy issues on me." Harrison didn't react to my explanation. I didn't care if he believed me. It had nothing to do with me anymore. I made myself clear. As I left the Sterling villa, I thought about the question Harrison used to ask. Have you ever tasted the pain of losing your soulmate? Soulmate? Hah. How did I answer him back then? Oh, I remember. I said: "Harrison, you’ve been dead to me for a long time." When two people are in love, they can't see anyone else. The old me couldn't see Bella. The current Harrison couldn't see me.
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