"If you ever want a divorce, you can have one anytime." That's what Arthur Vance told me on our wedding day. I believed him. Two months later, on the day his true love returned, I placed the divorce agreement in front of him. Arthur looked out the window, his expression flat. "It's raining. "I'm in a bad mood. Let's divorce next time." Me: ??? 1 On the very night Chloe Thorne returned. Fueled by liquid courage, I slept with Arthur Vance. The trail of clothes discarded from the front door to the bedroom was proof of the urgency of our encounter. Arthur tried to maintain his reason, pushing me away. His eyes, slightly red, stared intently at me. His Adam's apple bobbed slowly. "Elena, look closely. Do you know who I am? "If we continue, don't regret it." I was panting slightly. I looked up, grabbed him by the collar, stood on my tiptoes, and kissed him. What a joke. I was sleeping with my legal husband; what was the problem? Until the second half of the night, when I started to regret it. This guy's stamina was terrifying. I tried to sneak away, but the person behind me grabbed my ankle and pulled me back. Warm breath tickled my ear. Arthur's voice, deep and rich, ghosted over the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. "Be a good girl. Quitting halfway isn't allowed." 2 A night of absolute absurdity. When I woke up again, the person beside me was gone. On the nightstand sat a glass of milk, a sandwich, and a sticky note left by Arthur, its words brimming with gentle concern. Since we got married, Arthur had faithfully played the role of a good husband. I often had the illusion that I was actually loved. But reason always reminded me of the truth. The person Arthur liked was Chloe Thorne. She was the one who was supposed to marry him in this arranged union. But my always impulsive, free-spirited younger sister ran away. I heard Arthur chased her all the way to the airport that day. For some unknown reason, he ultimately didn't get on that flight to France. Because he was acting out of spite. Later, when our families tried to shove me—the older sister he barely knew—onto him, he didn't resist. It was only when I excused myself to the restroom that, faced with the relentless teasing of his relatives, he finally showed a hint of exhausted indifference: "Do I even have the right to refuse? "You've all already decided. I don't care." Because it wasn't the person in his heart, anyone else would do. On our wedding day, the first thing Arthur said to me was: "If you ever want a divorce in the future, you can have one anytime." I just didn't expect that, a mere two months after the wedding, Chloe would come back. I've always known my place. Ignoring the breakfast on the nightstand, I picked up my phone and called Mia, my lawyer friend. "Prepare a divorce agreement for me." I heard the lawyer's exaggerated gasp on the other end. The sun was shining brightly outside the window, but suddenly, it started to pour rain. I couldn't help but space out. 3 That very evening, I placed the divorce agreement in front of Arthur. In the quiet study, the man in the white shirt sat there, radiating an aura of noble gentleness. Completely different from the image I held in my memory. I had seen Arthur beat someone up once. It was in a filthy alleyway near the old campus of A University. To make it hurt more, he held a Zippo lighter in his fist, striking with ruthless, heavy blows. Until the sound of bones crunching echoed in the air, mixed with the man's agonizing screams. The slightly boyish, handsome face of the youth looked somewhat demonic, splattered with crimson blood. That was the first time I met the person Chloe constantly talked about. The sole heir to the Vance Group. Violent, reckless, fearless. Perhaps because that summer was exceptionally hot and sticky, I inexplicably disliked him. My thoughts returned to the present. Arthur was still staring silently at that piece of paper. It had been so long I started to doubt his literacy skills. I couldn't help but ask: "Can you not read?" Arthur finally moved. He turned his head to look out the window, his expression flat: "It's been raining all day." My gaze followed his to the damp windowpane. Okay, and? "I'm in a bad mood. Let's divorce next time." Me: ??? ... For the past two days, Arthur and I had been locked in a bizarre tug-of-war. The chat history on my phone was still stuck on the message I sent this morning, reminding him to sign the papers. He had deliberately ignored me again. Me: [You're avoiding this.] Arthur: [Avoiding it may be shameful, but it's useful.] A few moments later, my phone buzzed again. Arthur: [Sleeping with me and then abandoning me. What a player.] What was that supposed to mean? Wasn't I graciously making way for his true love? Arthur: [Did I make you uncomfortable last night, so now you're mad? [Okay, I admit I lack experience, but doing this really makes me lose face. [Besides, you seemed to enjoy it later on /frantic emoji/.] His overly blunt words made my old face flush red. Me: [You were the one who said I could have a divorce anytime.] Arthur: [... [You talk too much. Blocking you for half a day.] I tried to reply again. The screen displayed a notification: The recipient has rejected your message. Me: ??? This guy is so childish. 4 I had originally planned to go back tonight, tie him up, and force him to sign. But halfway there, I received a call from my family's main estate. Resigned, I turned the car around and headed back to the old mansion. As soon as I arrived, I heard a chorus of cheerful laughter coming from the living room. "Chloe, you're getting prettier every day." Chloe was surrounded in the center. Her face flushed red from the teasing and compliments of the relatives, looking exactly like a tender, translucent peach. "She's such a perfect match for that Vance boy. What a shame." "I told you, if you hadn't run away from the wedding, you'd be the future matriarch of the Vance family right now." Chloe quickly intervened: "Arthur is already married to my sister. It's inappropriate to make jokes like this." The relatives were dismissive. "What's inappropriate? You can always divorce after getting married." "As long as the Vance family is willing, swapping a person is no big deal." These people were all my father's relatives. They had always disliked me. Because I looked very much like my biological mother. That poor woman. She bet everything her father left her to help a down-and-out man rebuild his empire. Only to be betrayed time and time again. In the end, she fell ill from depression and died alone in a sanatorium. I scoffed, clapping my hands as I walked toward the crowd. "Since when did the Thorne family adopt the trend of encouraging people to steal their sister's husband? "But you guys are right about one thing. "I've already given Arthur the divorce papers." I stopped, my gaze finally locking onto Chloe's innocent almond eyes. The corners of my mouth curled into a mocking arc. "Do you want to go act cute and beg him to kick me out faster, so you can take my place? "Just like your mother did." Chloe's face instantly turned pale, tears welling up in her eyes. Anyone seeing this pitiful display would feel their heart ache. "Insolent!" A furious roar came from my father behind me. I spun around, only to unexpectedly lock eyes with a pair of dark pupils swirling with inexplicable emotions. "..." Why was Arthur here? 5 As soon as the study door closed. My father raised his hand, ready to strike me. I didn't move or dodge. I took the slap head-on, my left cheek burning with pain. "Who told you to unilaterally ask for a divorce? "Can you bear the consequences of angering the Vance family?" I lowered my eyes, my posture neither servile nor overbearing: "Isn't Chloe still here? She and Arthur mutually love each other. It's perfect..." "Nonsense." My father irritably cut me off. "My, Richard Thorne's, daughter never eats another person's leftovers." Another person's? I laughed. "Back then, when you told me to marry him in Chloe's place, did you ever think of me as your daughter? "Or perhaps, from the moment you dumped me with that 'crazy woman' 15 years ago, you never intended to acknowledge me again." "Elena Thorne! "That 'crazy woman' you speak of was your mother." Richard was furious, leaning on the desk, panting heavily. His health had been very poor lately. The man who was once invincible was now showing signs of old age. His shoulders slumped in defeat, and he waved his hand weakly at me. "If you want to divorce, fine. But don't even think about getting anything from the Thorne family afterward. Weigh the consequences yourself. "I called you back today to tell you that Chloe will be joining the company next week. Keep an eye on her for me, and don't let her run wild anymore." Constantly using the inheritance to threaten people. What arrogant, self-righteous authority from a man in power. In his heart, he never truly intended to hand the Thorne family over to me anyway. I walked out of the study and stopped a passing servant. "Where is Arthur?" The servant hesitated for a moment, stammering that they saw the son-in-law and the Second Miss head to the third floor alone. That was Chloe's bedroom. Perfect. I looked up at the empty staircase. This saved me the trouble of begging him for a divorce. 6 My ears were filled with deafening music. The dazzling lights turned the club into a world of intoxicating luxury. I drank in silence. Mia couldn't stand watching me anymore. She reached out and snatched the glass I had just brought to my lips. "Even when your dad hit you, I've never seen your mood this bad. "I brought you here to relax, not to binge drink, Princess." I remained silent, casually grabbing another glass of alcohol. Just then, a man approached to hit on me. Mia winked and gestured for me to seize the opportunity. The man sat right next to me, his hand resting on my waist slowly roaming as he spoke. I raised an eyebrow: "I'm married." Mia tore down my defense: "Getting a divorce soon." Hearing this, the man's eyes turned suggestive, and he leaned in even closer. "Wives are more exciting." His deliberately raspy "vocal fry" made me frown in disgust. Before I could lash out, the man suddenly screamed in agony. From behind the sofa, Arthur gripped the man's arm, forcing him to stand up. His tone was bone-chilling. "Next time before you touch someone, think about how many hands you have left to chop off. "Get lost." I was speechless. Was he auditioning for a mafia movie? The man cursed and fled. The atmosphere in our booth instantly became tense, with people stealing careful glances our way. I leaned back against the sofa, crossing my arms, and looked at Arthur. His expression was completely flat, his eyes dark, cruel, and unruly, slowly overlapping with the image of the boy from that hot, humid summer. "Elena, we aren't divorced yet. Don't let other men touch you." Sure enough, no matter how well he pretended, his true nature was hard to hide. I didn't expect him to remember me after comforting his true love. I must admit, I was almost touched. I shrugged: "It's just a matter of time." Arthur's gaze was burning, his tone bordering on obsessive. "I won't agree to it." "Fine," I smiled brightly, pointing at the dozens of shot glasses on the table. "If you finish all of those, I'll tear up the divorce agreement." I was certain Arthur wouldn't drink them. Because he had a terrible alcohol tolerance. And he absolutely despised the drinking culture of the business world. In the two months since we got married, he had only been mad at me once. Because I drank myself into stomach bleeding at a business dinner. For that, a certain someone unilaterally gave me the cold shoulder for an entire day. Within five minutes, a crowd gathered around our booth to watch the show and cheer. Arthur's face was flushed red, constantly pouring liquor down his throat. Glass after glass. His dark pupils reflected my stunned expression. Why on earth was he doing this?
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