In the fifth year of my marriage to Conrad, the girl he was keeping in a hotel was exposed to the world. To protect her from being labeled a "homewrecker," Conrad came to me with divorce papers. "Kathy's father was my mentor," he said. "Before he died, he begged me to take care of her. Now that this has happened, I have to do something." For years, Kathy had always been Conrad's priority. In my last life, hearing those words sent me into a spiral. I screamed, I fought, I refused to sign. I spiraled into a deep depression, but when Kathy casually remarked, "Autumn doesn't really seem sick," Conrad decided I was faking it—just another manipulative ploy. He framed me for adultery and filed for divorce. Only then did I understand that my years of love could never compete with his debt of gratitude to a dead man. I killed myself. This time, when I opened my eyes, I signed the papers without a moment's hesitation. 1 "Autumn, once this all blows over, we'll get remarried, okay?" I was sitting on a stone bench in the villa's courtyard, lost in thought, when Conrad arrived with Kathy. Just three hours ago, tabloids had published photos of Kathy, branding her as Conrad's mistress. The internet was tearing her apart, calling her the homewrecker who had destroyed my "perfect" marriage. Conrad's carefully crafted "devoted husband" image shattered, and his company's stock began to plummet. In my last life, when he'd brought me those papers, I had ripped out every single rose he'd ever planted for me in that courtyard. I had shrieked at him, demanding to know what was going on with Kathy. He had a million ways to handle the scandal, a million ways to protect his mentor's daughter. But he chose the one that required sacrificing me. All because he didn't want to "worsen Kathy's depression." What he didn't know was that while the scandal was raging, I had also been diagnosed with moderate depression. "Autumn." Conrad's voice pulled me back to the present. My gaze fell to the divorce agreement on the stone table. He knelt before me, his deep eyes pleading, his warm hand enveloping mine. His voice was a soft, cajoling murmur. "Autumn, please. Just do this for me, can you?" "We'll announce that our marriage has been over for a while, that we were planning to divorce a year ago but never found the right time." I remained silent. Behind him, Kathy stood wrapped in his jacket over her white dress, her lips pale, her eyes red-rimmed and swollen. "Autumn, please, will you help me?" she whimpered. "My mother killed herself because of online bullying and depression. I don't want to end up like her. I'll get on my knees, I'll beg you, please..." As she made a show of bending her knees, Conrad shot up, catching her and pulling her into a protective embrace. "What are you doing?" he snapped, his face dark. Kathy choked back a sob, her voice frail. "I... I just wanted to make you feel a little better about this." Conrad's patience wore thin. He turned back to me, the earlier tenderness in his eyes completely gone. "Autumn, I didn't come here to negotiate." "This is my decision. If you refuse to sign, then don't blame me when—" I calmly met his gaze, and his threat died on his lips. But I knew what he was going to say. He was going to say: Autumn, you know what I'm capable of. I have a thousand ways to make you sign. If this goes to court, you'll never win against my lawyers. That's what he'd said in my last life. Shortly after, I was "found" in a bed with several male models, the evidence of my "infidelity" irrefutable. Overnight, I became a pariah. And he and Kathy became the innocent victims. "I'll sign," I said after a long pause. "But you have to promise me one thing." 2 Conrad glanced at me, then nodded. "Anything." He handed me the pen. With a steady hand, I signed my name on the divorce papers, my expression unreadable. "Aren't you going to read the agreement?" he asked, frowning. I offered a small, empty smile. "No need." He had given me almost everything—the house, the stocks, the assets. A clean break, financially. All for Kathy. All to repay a debt to a ghost. "We'll go to the city hall tomorrow to finalize it." "Okay," I said. Conrad's hand, holding the signed papers, faltered. A flicker of confusion crossed his face, but in the end, he said nothing more. As they turned to leave, Kathy shot a triumphant, mocking look over her shoulder. Her lips formed two silent words: You lost. And she was right. I had lost. I had lost an entire lifetime. Which is why I had no intention of losing this one. A few minutes later, my phone lit up with a series of texts from Conrad. 【I'm sorry you had to go through this today, Autumn.】 【Once this is over, I'll throw you the biggest wedding ceremony. We'll get remarried.】 【I can't just stand by while Kathy's depression gets worse. You can understand that, can't you?】 I read the last message and laughed, a bitter, tearless sound. It was the same as before. In my last life, Conrad had gotten drunk with his friend Evan, trying to figure out how to force me to divorce him. He forgot that his friends were also my friends. Evan had called me, trying to mediate. He told me to be understanding, that Conrad was just a man who valued loyalty and honor. He reminded me how Kathy's father had taken a chance on a young, ambitious Conrad, investing in him when no one else would. Back then, I had sobbed into the phone. "There are a million other ways to handle this! Why does it have to be divorce?" Evan went silent. He had asked Conrad the same question. Conrad's answer had been: "Someone has to get hurt. I have to choose her over Autumn. Autumn loves me. She'll understand." Because I loved him, I was the one to be sacrificed. What kind of logic was that? Fortunately, this time, I had another chance. 3 When it came to Kathy, Conrad moved with lightning speed. He secured my signature in the afternoon and had a press conference scheduled for that same evening. His assistant called to "invite" me to attend. Before I could even respond, the assistant, clearly sensing my hesitation, relayed Conrad's message. "Ms. Thorne, Mr. Hamilton believes you should attend. If not for him, then for the sake of your own reputation." I paused, then let out a short, sharp laugh. He was threatening me again. Using the same old tactics, ready to drag my name through the mud until I bent to his will. I had never understood it. Did Conrad see me as his wife, or his enemy? Fine. He wanted a public clarification of our relationship? I'd be happy to provide one. The press conference was held in the grand ballroom of the city's most luxurious hotel, packed with the industry's top journalists. When Kathy, stunning in a silk gown, appeared on Conrad's arm, the room erupted. Cameras flashed, reporters surged forward. Conrad instinctively shielded Kathy, holding up a hand. "I will answer all of your questions shortly," he said with a practiced smile. "For now, could you please make way?" His voice was calm and smooth. As he looked up, his eyes met mine. I was surrounded by my own swarm of reporters. For a single, stupid moment, I held my breath, waiting for him to come and rescue me, too. But he didn't. His gaze slid past me as if I were a stranger. A polite smile still on his face, he took Kathy's hand and led her onto the stage. A bitter smile touched my own lips. The reporter closest to me, probably an intern, timidly held her microphone out. "Ms. Thorne, is it true? Have you and Mr. Hamilton really divorced?" "Yes," I said, my smile widening. The intern pushed her glasses up her nose. "But... you've known each other since high school. You dated for seven years, married for five. Just last month, he bought you an entire island and named it after you." My smile didn't waver, but it no longer reached my eyes. "He owed me." It was a gift to make up for missing my birthday because he was taking care of a "sick" Kathy. In my last life, I had been so proud of that grand gesture. I later found out the island was Evan's idea and Conrad's assistant had picked it out. Conrad didn't even know where it was. "Do you... do you still love Mr. Hamilton?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. The reporters around me fell silent. On the stage, even Conrad had stopped talking and was looking at me, a slight frown on his face. I met his gaze coolly, then turned back to the young reporter. My lips curved into a bright, genuine smile. "No," I said. "I don't." 4 I didn't stay for the rest of the conference. After Conrad publicly announced that our marriage had been "over in spirit for a year," I slipped out. Overnight, I became Conrad Hamilton's discarded wife. Kathy, on the other hand, was painted as the innocent victim caught in the crossfire. The interview stayed at the top of news feeds for days. Conrad's carefully chosen words were quoted everywhere: "Autumn and I decided to separate a year ago. We wanted to handle this privately, but now that an innocent person has been dragged into this, we have no choice but to clarify the situation. Ms. Vance is not the reason our marriage ended. She is the only family my late mentor has left, and I feel a duty to look after her. I hope everyone can be rational about this." His fans rallied, spinning the narrative. I was the one who couldn't tolerate their "pure, sibling-like bond." I was the petty, jealous wife who couldn't appreciate his loyalty and honor. I became the villain of the story. The day we got the final divorce decree, Conrad stopped me outside the city hall. "Don't pay any attention to what they're saying online. People will forget about it soon enough." I let out a soft, humorless laugh. We were both being trashed online, but the public's judgment was so very different for each of us. "Autumn, the holidays are in a couple of months," he said. "Next year... can we get remarried?" He started to walk toward me, but I took a deliberate step back. My gaze flickered to the paparazzi hiding behind a nearby car. He noticed them too and stopped. "Conrad," I said, my voice even. "I'm moving back to Boston." "You haven't been back in a long time. That's a good idea. I'll come pick you up for the holidays and we can—" "I'm not coming back," I interrupted calmly. The smile froze on his face. The confusion was back in his eyes. "The day I signed the papers," I continued, "you said you'd promise me one thing. It's time to make good on that promise." He just stared at me, uncomprehending. When I first woke up in this new life, it took me only a few seconds to process the love and hate I felt for him. For a moment, seeing those papers, I had wanted to scream, to rip them up, to fight him one last time. But reason prevailed. I let a small, genuine smile touch my lips. "Conrad, I want you to promise that you will never, ever appear in my life again."
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