1 The day I caught Harrison cheating on me, I didn't scream. I didn't throw a single glass. I just asked for a divorce. "A divorce?" He looked at me as if I’d delivered the punchline to an absurd joke, his eyes traveling down my silk robe and back up to my face with pure derision. "Wendy, look at yourself. You really think anyone else in this city would touch you after me?" Everyone in our social circle had always whispered the same thing. They called me lucky. They talked about how hard it was for a nobody to claw her way out of obscurity, let alone marry into the Cole dynasty—one of the oldest, wealthiest families on the East Coast. They told me I’d won the lottery and that a smart woman endured whatever came with it. None of their advice mattered anymore. I had waited five long years for today. It was my settlement day. Harrison stripped off his suit jacket, tossing it carelessly onto the velvet armchair, and took two deliberate steps toward me. He looked down at me from his towering height, his jaw set in cold arrogance. "Wendy, do I need to remind you how you got through the front doors of this house in the first place?" "A girl with no degree, no pedigree, nothing to her name but a pretty face. If my grandmother hadn't taken a liking to you, you wouldn't have even been hired to scrub our floors. For five years, you’ve lived under my roof, spent my money, worn the jewelry I paid for. And now you want out?" He let out a dry, venomous chuckle. "With what leverage, Wendy? You don't have a damn thing." I ignored the sting in his voice. My pulse was steady. "Harrison, I’m entirely serious." His expression darkened, the amused condescension curdling into something hard and sharp. I went on, my voice smooth and deliberate: "Madeline is back. She’s the love of your life, isn't she? Don’t you want to marry her properly? Don’t you want to give her your name, give her a child, grow old together without me standing in the way?" The muscle in his jaw jumped. His tone dropped to freezing point. "What happens between Madeline and me is none of your business. Know your place." "Fine," I replied quietly. "I won't meddle in whatever you have with Madeline. But as for our marriage—I suggest you think it over." I picked up the black leather folder from the console table and slid the divorce papers toward him across the marble island. Harrison stared at me, his gaze drilling into my eyes, searching for a tremor, a crack, a sliver of jealousy. He found nothing. No tears, no desperation. That silence unnerved him. A sudden flare of irritation broke through his composure. He reached out, his fingers locking around my jaw, squeezing just tight enough to bruise. "You really want this that bad, Wendy?" I met his gaze without blinking. "Yes." His eyes flushed red with sudden fury. Grinding his teeth, he leaned in until I could smell the bourbon and the faint, sickening trace of Madeline’s floral perfume on his collar. "Then let me make one thing crystal clear. If you leave, you walk away with zero. Not a single cent. You leave this house with exactly what you brought into it: nothing." I furrowed my brow, silent. Watching the small crease between my eyebrows, the tension in Harrison’s chest visibly eased. He assumed he had found my limit. He let go of my face, stepped back, and pulled a silver lighter from his pocket. Lighting a cigarette, he let out a slow plume of smoke, a smirk returning to his lips. "Playing hard to get only works on men who care, Wendy. I don't love you. So pulling this stunt on me is useless. Five years ago, you scrambled with everything you had to become Mrs. Cole. You expect me to believe a social climber like you is suddenly willing to walk away penniless?" He tapped the ash onto a crystal tray, shaking his head. "Put away the theatrics. Keep playing the obedient wife who comes when she's called. The allowance I give you every year won't be a penny short." I parted my lips to speak. I wanted to tell him that I genuinely didn't want his money, that this wasn't a game. Before I could say a word, his phone chimed on the counter. A distinct, custom ringtone. Madeline. The harsh lines of Harrison’s face melted instantly into a tenderness I had never seen directed at me in five years of marriage. He didn't answer right away. Instead, he met my eyes, a mocking tilt to his mouth. "If you really can't stand having Madeline here in the house, I can compromise. Next time, I’ll take her to a hotel." With that, he snatched his coat from the chair and headed for the foyer. At the door, he paused, looking over his shoulder with an arrogant smirk. "Forget the divorce nonsense. Behave yourself, and maybe down the road, I’ll give you a baby to secure your future." The heavy oak door clicked shut behind him, leaving the sprawling penthouse in suffocating silence. A baby. I let out a faint, hollow breath that almost sounded like a laugh. A month ago, there had been a baby. I hadn't even had the chance to tell him before it was gone. That afternoon, I had lost my footing and fallen down the long, spiral staircase. Doubled over in blinding agony, my body locked in violent spasms of pain, I had dialed his number with trembling hands. The woman who answered his phone was Madeline, freshly returned from overseas. Lying in a pool of my own blood, listening to Madeline’s sweet, inquiring voice on the other end of the line, I knew with absolute certainty that Harrison and I were over. We had never truly had a chance five years ago, and we certainly didn't have one now. I smoothed my robe, sat down on the sofa, and dialed the private line of Eleanor Cole, Harrison’s grandmother. "Grandmother," I said softly when the call connected. "The five years are up. I didn't succeed." Five years ago, on the day I married Harrison, the first document I signed wasn't a marriage license. It was a conditional agreement. Mrs. Cole had slid the contract across the antique tea table in her Greenwich estate. Her voice had been crisp, measured, and unsentimental: “Ever since Madeline went abroad with that other man, Harrison has been throwing his life away. He is the sole heir to the Cole estate, and I will not watch him drown in self-destruction. I have watched you for months, Wendy. You have no parents, you are desperately in need of money, you are beautiful, and you have entered this high-society circuit completely unattached—a clean slate. I need you to marry my grandson. Give it five years. If you can make him settle down, take his responsibilities seriously, and let go of his obsession, the title of Mrs. Cole is yours forever, and no one can take it from you. But if, after five years, he remains the same reckless boy, the family will release you and wire you a nine-figure settlement for your trouble.” At twenty-two, staring at a mountain of medical debt for the only family I had left, I hadn't hesitated for a single second. I signed. Mrs. Cole brought me directly to Harrison. In the beginning, believing I was nothing more than an opportunistic gold-digger foisted upon him by his grandmother, Harrison never gave me a single warm look. For the first two years of our marriage, he slept in guest rooms, brought other women to clubs, and refused to touch me. Yet I never retaliated. I cooked his meals, organized his life, nursed his hangovers, and waited up for him every night. The turning point came when he crashed his sports car during an illegal street race, shattering his leg. Lying in the hospital bed, drugged and in pain, he had called Madeline in Europe, only for her new wealthy boyfriend to pick up and mock him ruthlessly before hanging up. It was during that window of absolute vulnerability that I stepped in. I took care of him with every ounce of gentleness I possessed. I bathed him, helped him through physical therapy, and held him through his darkest nights. After that, the sneers stopped. He stopped partying every weekend. He started coming home directly after work, sitting across from me at dinner, watching television beside me. We never exchanged grand declarations of love, nor did we speak in sweet promises. But for a brief, deceptive period, our lives seemed to align. My heart betrayed me. I fell for him. There were quiet evenings when I leaned against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, foolishly wishing that this contract could become real—that we could stay like this forever. Then Madeline broke up with her boyfriend and flew back to the city. With a single phone call from her, five years of quiet domesticity evaporated into thin air. Harrison abandoned everything, running straight to her without looking back. Perhaps it was for the best. I hadn't fallen so deep that I couldn't climb back out. "Wendy," Mrs. Cole sighed on the other end of the line, her tone carrying a rare note of regret. "You did remarkably well these past five years. If you don't mention the contract, I won't enforce the separation. You can stay his wife." I smiled faintly into the receiver. "Grandmother, the woman he loves is Madeline. Staying would only make a fool out of all three of us." A quiet pause stretched over the line before the matriarch sighed. "Very well. Your payment has been deposited into the designated account. As for the divorce itself, Harrison must sign those papers himself. I won't interfere." "I understand. Thank you, Grandmother." Ten minutes after leaving the Cole family estate, my phone buzzed in my bag. It was a text from Harrison containing a location pin for an upscale lounge downtown. Beneath it was a message: [Bring a box of condoms. The ribbed ones with the mint flavor, you know the brand. And Madeline has a migraine, so pick up some prescription-strength pain relievers on your way. You have ten minutes.] A sudden, sharp pressure squeezed my chest, but it passed quickly, leaving only an icy numbness in its wake. I took a deep breath, walked into the nearest twenty-four-hour pharmacy, bought the exact items he asked for, and hailed a cab to the club. When I pushed open the heavy velvet door of the VIP suite, the room fell dead silent. A dozen pairs of eyes shifted from the leather banquettes to the small paper pharmacy bag in my hand. A burst of drunken, mocking laughter erupted from Harrison’s inner circle. "Holy shit! She actually brought them!" "Man, once a gold-digger, always a gold-digger. Playing the divorce card was totally a power move." "Gotta earn that allowance somehow, right? Even if it means running errands for Harrison and Madeline." I looked over at Harrison, who was lounging on the central leather sofa with a drink in hand. He raised his eyebrows at his friends, smug and utterly vindicated. "Told you," Harrison scoffed, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "She’ll always come crawling back. She’s not divorcing me—she’s just looking for attention. Isn't that right, Wendy?" Looking at his triumphant expression, my mind flashed back to the first year of our marriage, when he used to humiliate me in front of these exact same friends. Back then, after his car accident, if anyone dared to disrespect me in his presence, he would lose his temper instantly; he once even dislocated a man's shoulder for making a lewd joke at my expense. Now, with Madeline back, everything had reverted to the start. The past three years of warmth were nothing more than a temporary illusion. Without a word, I walked across the room and set the pharmacy bag on the glass table in front of him. Then, I pulled the black folder from my handbag, laid the divorce agreement beside the box of condoms, and offered him a pen. "Harrison. Sign it. Let's finish this." The laughter in the suite died instantly. The room went so quiet you could hear the hum of the ice machine. Harrison’s face turned an ugly, mottled gray. He lunged forward, grabbed my wrist, and hauled me out of the suite into the dimly lit hallway, his voice a furious hiss. "What the hell is wrong with you, Wendy? Are you trying to humiliate me in front of everyone?" My voice remained level. "I’m not trying to humiliate you. I just want a divorce." Hearing the word divorce for the third time today, Harrison’s features twisted with rage. He dragged me toward the exit by my arm. "Get your ass back to the penthouse right now and stop embarrassing yourself!" He let go and turned to walk back inside. I reached out and caught the sleeve of his shirt. "Harrison. You can pretend this is all an act to get your attention. Just sign the papers." Harrison stared at me, his veins bulging at his temples. Before he could speak, a soft, delicate voice drifted from the doorway: "Harrison?" Madeline emerged, looking ethereal in a pristine white silk dress. Seeing me, she blinked innocently, her eyes welling with immediate distress. "Wendy... please don't misunderstand. Harrison and I were just catching up with old friends tonight. Nothing happened." I didn't even look at her. My eyes stayed locked on Harrison. Madeline’s gaze dropped to the folder in my hand, and her eyes widened in theatrical shock. "Wendy... are you two getting divorced?" Harrison immediately stepped between us, taking Madeline by the wrist. "Don't talk to her, Madeline. She’s lost her mind. Let's go back inside." Madeline pulled her hand away, tears spilling over her lashes as she looked at me pleadingly. "Wendy, is this because of me? What happened at your place the other day... we were both drunk. It was a terrible mistake, an accident." She lunged forward, grabbing my hands, sobbing earnestly. "I know he's a married man now! I swear to you, from now on, Harrison and I will only be friends. Nothing more. I won't ever cross the line again. Please, don't break up your marriage over this!" Before I married Harrison, I had lived through enough hardship to read people like an open book. Madeline was a master of weaponized vulnerability. Every word out of her mouth sounded like an apology, yet every single sentence drove home the fact that she and my husband had slept together in my bed. A cold smirk touched my lips. I pulled my hands back firmly from her grip. The moment I withdrew my hands, Madeline gasped, stumbling backward as if I had shoved her with all my strength. She collapsed dramatically onto the carpeted floor. "Ah!" Her small designer clutch fell open, and a white plastic stick tumbled out, landing directly beneath the track lighting. Two pink lines. A positive pregnancy test. I froze. Harrison was the first to react. He dropped to one knee, scooped up the test, and stared at it in utter disbelief before snapping his head toward Madeline. "Madeline... you’re pregnant? Is this... is it mine?" Madeline turned pale, scrambling up to snatch the test from his fingers. "Give it back!" She looked at me with red, terrified eyes, shaking her head frantically. "Wendy, this has nothing to do with Harrison! I’m leaving—I'll leave town right now! Please don't divorce him, please don't fight because of me!" Clutching the test, she broke into a run down the corridor, sobbing loudly. "Madeline!" Harrison didn't hesitate for a fraction of a second. He took off after her, his footsteps echoing rapidly down the hall. I stood under the harsh fluorescent lights of the corridor, watching their retreating figures. I didn't move an inch. The next morning, the doorbell rang at eight o'clock sharp. Thinking Harrison had returned, I opened the door. Standing on the threshold was Madeline. I reached to pull the door shut, but she thrust her arm out, blocking the frame. "Wendy, wait." The timid, tearful girl from last night was entirely gone. A triumphant smirk played at the corners of her lips as her hand rested deliberately against her flat stomach. "Harrison told me he wants to keep this baby. How do you feel about that?" I offered a dry smile. "That’s between the two of you." She blinked, momentarily thrown by my lack of reaction, before crossing her arms. "You want out of this marriage, don't you? I can help you." I paused. "I have no intention of letting my child grow up as a bastard," Madeline said smoothly, her eyes cold with ambition. "And I certainly don't intend to stay in the shadows as a mistress. I'm keeping this child, and I'm taking the title of Mrs. Cole. Give me the papers. I know exactly how to make him sign." I studied her for a moment, turned around, retrieved the black leather folder from the entryway table, and handed it to her. Madeline took it with a satisfied grin, spun on her designer heels, and walked toward the elevator. Less than an hour later, the doorbell rang violently, followed by heavy pounding. Assuming Madeline had returned with the signed copy, I unlocked the door. Before I could even register the silhouette in the doorway, a savage blow struck the left side of my face. Smack! The force of the slap sent me crashing sideways into the shoe console, my shoulder taking the brunt of the impact. My ears rang with a deafening whine, and the metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. It took several seconds for the room to stop spinning. Slowly, I lifted my head. Harrison stood over me, his eyes bloodshot, breathing like a wounded animal ready to tear me apart. He hurled the crumpled divorce papers onto the floor at my feet. "Did you take these papers to Madeline to threaten her?" he roared. I wiped the blood from my lip and said nothing. He stepped closer, towering over me, his hands clenched into trembling fists. "Do you have any idea how long I spent begging her last night to keep my baby? And because you went to torment her this morning, she went straight to the clinic and had an abortion!" His voice broke into a raw, ragged shout: "My child is dead, Wendy! Are you happy now?" I wanted to tell him that Madeline had come to me, that she had taken the papers willingly. But looking into his murderous eyes, the urge to defend myself evaporated completely. He had already written the narrative in his head. Nothing I said would change the verdict. I bent down, gathered the scattered pages from the hardwood floor one by one, straightened their edges, and held them out to him. "Sign it." Harrison let out a sound of incredulous fury. "Divorce, divorce! Wendy, is that the only word in your pathetic vocabulary?" I held the papers steady, meeting his murderous glare. He stared at me, his chest heaving, before sneering viciously. "You want me to sign so badly? Then I'm not going to. I’m going to keep you trapped in this house until you rot." I looked at him for a quiet second, and then, slowly, a faint smile touched my lips. Harrison stiffened. "What the hell are you smiling at?" "Harrison," I said, my voice quiet and crystal clear. "If you refuse to sign... don't tell me it's because you've actually fallen in love with me." His expression twitched violently, as if a raw nerve had been struck. A wave of humiliation and fury rushed to his face. "You flatter yourself! I would fall in love with a stray dog in the gutter before I ever felt a damn thing for a woman like you!" "Then sign." His chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow breaths. He snatched the Montblanc pen from my fingers and slashed his signature across the bottom of the final page with such brutal force that the nib nearly tore through the paper. He threw the folder straight at my face. "Let’s see who in high society will take my leftovers once you’re out on the street," he snarled, turning toward the door. "Get your shit and get out of my house before midnight. Don't let me catch you breathing my air ever again."
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "562917", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel