Three days later, Shane arrived back in Washington.

As dusk settled, his sleek, black SUV rolled into the villa's driveway, the engine sighing into silence.

The driver stepped out and opened Shane's door.

Shane emerged, shutting the door behind him. He forestalled the driver's attempt to retrieve the luggage. "I'll take care of it," he said with a dismissive air.

Stepping into the entrance hall, he was met by the family's maid. "The Adams family patriarch was in an accident a few days ago. Madam is quite upset. She's upstairs."

Shane was already aware of the events surrounding the Adams family.

A wave of weariness washing over him, he carried his luggage upstairs and pushed open the bedroom door. He found Linda seated before her vanity, meticulously arranging its contents.

Shane dropped his bag, loosened his tie, and sank onto the bed, observing his wife.

Since their marriage, Linda had filled her time with domestic tasks – cleaning, organizing, even baking. Shane often thought that if it weren't for her striking face and enviable figure, she'd be indistinguishable from the hired help.

Silence stretched between them.

Shane, still fatigued from his business trip, grew impatient with her silence. He walked into the dressing room, grabbed his bathrobe and stepped into the shower. During his shower, he assumed Linda would have calmed down and helped him unpack his luggage, and then continue to be a gentle wife.

He finished his shower and opened the bathroom door. When he walked out of the bathroom and found that his suitcase was still in place, he felt the need to talk to her.

Shane sat on the sofa and took a magazine to read at will.

He looked up and said, "How is your father doing? About what happened that night... I've already reprimanded Secretary Esther."

His tone was casual, lacking genuine concern.

Linda paused her task, lifting her gaze to meet his reflection in the mirror.

The Shane reflected back at her possessed sharp, handsome features and an air of innate privilege.

Even a simple bathrobe seemed to drape more elegantly on him than it would on others.

Linda stared at his reflection, her eyes aching, before finally speaking in a steady voice. "Shane, I want a divorce."

Shane was visibly taken aback.

He knew Linda was upset regarding the incident on that night. Later, he knew that after the accident in the Adams family, he also asked Secretary Esther to rush to the hospital at the first time, but Linda did not accept it.

This was the first time she had defied him. Previously, she had always been so docile.

Shane turned to the side and grabbed the cigarette box from the coffee table, shook out a cigarette from it and put it on his lips, and lowered his head to light it.

A stream of smoke slowly spit out.

He said softly, "You mentioned wanting to find work a few days ago. Why... are you talking about divorce now?"

"Is Mrs. Shane bored after all this time? Do you want to experience real life?"

"Linda, look around. How many people are out there, working overtime for peanuts and having to grin and bear it? You live in a 2,000-square-meter villa, enjoying the status of Mrs. Shane. What more could you possibly want?"

His tone was sharp and indifferent.

Linda finally reached her breaking point. Her lips trembling, she gave a hollow laugh. "Mrs. Shane? Is *this* what being Mrs. Shane is like?"

She stood abruptly and dragged Shane into the dressing room, throwing open the closet doors with a loud thud.

Linda was locked out, the keys and access belonging solely to Secretary Esther.

With a self-deprecating laugh, Linda gestured towards the cabinets: "What kind of wife needs to justify every piece of jewelry to her husband's secretary? What kind of wife has to fill out forms for every penny spent? What kind of wife can't even afford a taxi? Tell me, Shane, is *this* what being Mrs. Shane is all about?"

"Yes, my family is in decline, and you toss me 100,000 dollars a month."

"But every time I take that check, I feel like some kept woman, just a reward for services rendered!"

...

Shane cut her off, his voice sharp: "Is that really what you think?"

He grasped her chin gently, his grip firm: "A kept woman who doesn't even know how to please a man? Who can barely manage a kitten's whimper? You want a divorce?... What kind of existence do you imagine for yourself, without me?"

Linda, stung by his words and grip, raised a hand to push him away...

Instantly, Shane seized her hand, his gaze fixed and cold on her bare ring finger: "Where's your wedding ring?"

"I sold it!"

Linda's voice was laced with sorrow: "So, Shane, let's just get divorced!"

The declaration felt like a monumental effort. Shane was the man she had loved for six long years. If it hadn't been for witnessing the fireworks that fateful night, perhaps she would have remained trapped in this barren marriage indefinitely.

But she *had* seen them, and she refused to waste any more time.

Perhaps divorce would be more painful than her current situation. As Shane had pointed out, she'd be forced to beg for scraps. Still, she wouldn't regret it.

Releasing his hand, Linda began to pull a suitcase out.

She began to pack.

Shane's expression was thunderous. He watched her fragile back, stunned that Linda would display such unexpected defiance, demanding a divorce without hesitation.

A surge of inexplicable anger pulsed through him.

In one swift motion, he scooped Linda up and tossed her onto the bed a few steps away.

Shane's lean frame pinned her down.

His face was inches from hers, their eyes locked, the tips of their noses almost touching. His hot, potent breath swirled between them.

After what felt like an eternity, his lips moved close to her ear, his voice a dangerous whisper: "Is this all about Maria? Is that why you're acting up? Linda, why can't you be honest? Didn't you want this life as Mrs. Shane? Now... Don't you want it anymore?"

Linda trembled beneath him.

Even now, he still believed she was responsible for that night.

Maybe it was the physical nearness, or perhaps her vulnerable state. Whatever the reason, Shane was suddenly aroused. He stared at her intently, then cupped her chin and claimed her mouth with a kiss. His hand moved to unfasten the silk pajamas she wore.

Linda was breathtakingly beautiful, her skin flawless.

Shane should have stopped at the first touch. Now he found himself utterly unable to resist. He kissed her delicate neck, pinning her hands above her head, interlacing their fingers.

He was known for his intensity in bed, often overwhelming Linda, a testament to his forceful nature.

But now, on the verge of divorce, how could they even consider this?

"No, Shane... Please, no..."

Her voice was a trembling whisper, sounding especially vulnerable in the soft bed. Her dark hair framed her face against the pillows, a sight so alluring it stirred an almost violent possessiveness.

Shane pressed against her soft, red lips, his kiss forceful and intrusive, his words laced with vulgarity: "We're still legally married. Why not? You always say no at first, but when it really matters... huh?"

He needed to act now.

Linda's presence beneath him was undeniable – a softness, a warmth. Even without love, Shane couldn't deny the allure of her body. A possessive impulse rose within him.

Linda placed a hand on his shoulder, her breath catching slightly. "Shane," she said, her voice a touch unsteady, "I haven't taken my medication lately. There's a chance I could get pregnant."

Her words acted like a brake. Shane paused.

Desire battled with reason. He wanted her, yes, but not at the cost of losing control. Children weren't part of his current plan, not within the confines of his marriage with Linda.

After a prolonged silence, he delivered a cutting sneer. "It seems you've been giving this a great deal of thought these days."

Dismissing her resistance, Shane supported himself with one hand, reaching into the bedside table drawer with the other. He pulled out an unopened box, its packaging emblazoned with three simple English letters.

He was about to tear it open when his phone began to ring.

Ignoring the persistent ringing, Shane ripped open the small package with one hand and bent down to kiss Linda. She resisted, turning her head to break free... the incessant ringing of the mobile phone persisted.

Finally, exasperated, Shane answered the call.

It was his mother, Mrs. Deborah Harvey.

Her tone was cool, almost detached. "Shane, your grandmother isn't feeling well. Come home and see her. And bring *her* as well. Your grandmother has a craving for that lotus root powder cake she makes."

It was a veiled request, coated in concern for the elderly. Mrs. Deborah, never one for overt sentimentality, made her dislike clear.

Shane, his weight still partially on Linda, stared down at her, his dark eyes assessing. After a moment's consideration, he spoke into the phone. "I'll bring her by later."

Hanging up, he rose and began to dress. "Grandma's ill and wants to see you... If you're planning a scene, save it for later."

Linda remained on the bed, feeling depleted. Eventually, she too rose and dressed in silence.

As he fastened his trousers, Shane cast a glance at Linda's slender back and then at the unopened condom box on the bedside table. A slight tightening of his lips was the only outward sign of his thoughts as he left the room.

By the time Linda descended the stairs, Shane was already in the car, smoking.

Dusk had deepened, leaving only a faint twilight.

Linda was dressed in a white silk shirt and a floor-length black skirt of the same material, revealing only a sliver of a slender, pale calf.

She initially moved to get into the back, but Shane opened the passenger door. "Get in the front."

Linda obeyed, getting into the car without a word.

The black Bentley glided silently out of the villa gates. Shane gripped the steering wheel, his focus on the road, but his eyes flicked to Linda in the rearview mirror.

Three years of marriage, and Linda rarely rode in his car. Now, on the precipice of divorce, neither seemed inclined to speak.

The silence was heavy.

Half an hour later, the car pulled into a sprawling estate nestled in the hills. As the ornate wrought-iron gates swung open, the villa blazed with light, illuminating the grounds like daylight.

Shane switched off the engine and turned to Linda. "Grandma's frail, and she can't handle any drama. You know what to say."

Linda opened the car door and replied in a flat voice, "Don't worry."

Shane watched her back for a moment, then got out and quickly closed the distance, taking her hand. He felt her initial resistance, but he tightened his grip on her palm. "Remember what you agreed to."

Linda's fingers curled slightly, but she didn't pull away.

Mrs. Deborah was waiting in the grand hall. Seeing them enter hand-in-hand, she frowned imperceptibly before saying quietly, "Dr. Peter Williams just left. You can go and see her." She then turned her gaze towards Linda.

Linda greeted her mother-in-law. After a long pause, Mrs. Deborah responded curtly.

Normally, Linda would be hurt by the coldness, but now, preoccupied with her own situation with Shane, she felt detached... Shane's voice broke through her thoughts. "Let's go see Grandma."

Inside the bedroom, the elderly woman indeed seemed unwell, resting against the pillows. Seeing Shane and Linda enter, her aged eyes brightened immediately. "I've been waiting and waiting for my dear Linda."

Shane gently guided Linda forward.

He leaned in close to the old woman's ear and said, "I knew you weren't feeling well, so I didn't bring any outsiders."

The old woman smiled.

But she feigned deafness, cupping her ear and asking loudly, "What? Are you and Linda finally having children?... Shane, children are important! Don't worry about me being old, that can wait.

Knowing the old woman was being deliberately provocative, Shane shot Linda a hard look.

Linda didn't offer any affection during the visit.

After a brief chat with the old lady, she announced, "I'm going to make lotus root powder cakes."

The old lady smiled contentedly as Linda left.

Meanwhile, the old lady had spoken to Shane earlier, "Shane, what's with the special treatment for Maria? A few fireworks? Your wife will be jealous! And Linda, watch your husband! If you can't stand him, leave."

Shane brushed the comments about the fireworks aside without explaining. He suspected Secretary Esther had been behind that gesture!

Later, after a long conversation, Linda returned with the snack.

Shane observed her. Despite doing housework, Linda remained impeccably dressed, radiating an air of dignity and beauty – the perfect picture of a high-society wife.

He felt a momentary disconnect.

The old woman enjoyed the snack and cut to the chase, "Shane, you'll be 30 in two years. Others already have two children. When will you give me a great-grandchild?"

Linda remained silent.

Shane glanced at her, idly playing with a lotus root powder cake, and replied, "Linda is still young. Let her enjoy life a little longer!"

The old lady saw through their issues but didn't press the matter further.

They had dinner at the Harvey's house. By the time they left, it was late.

Shane fastened his seat belt and glanced at Linda. She stared out the window, her face barely visible.

In the dim light, her profile was soft and pale.

Shane looked at her for a while and then pressed the accelerator.

The black Bentley moved smoothly, the lights blurring past. He clearly wanted to talk, as he drove slowly.

About five minutes later, Shane spoke softly, "I'll arrange for your father to be admitted to the Hospital tomorrow, with the best team of specialists. And... if you need money, tell me."

His tone was gentle, almost a concession.

He didn't love Linda, and he was bothered by her calculated actions, but he wasn't ready to divorce... it would complicate his life and affect Shane's Group's stock value.

He figured he could get used to it!

Besides, her appearance and figure were top-notch. Sexually, at least, he found their relationship satisfying.

With that thought, as the traffic light turned green, Shane glanced at Linda.

Gripping the steering wheel, he continued, "Secretary Esther won't be coming to the house anymore. You can put away your jewelry. I'll explain it to her."

Linda listened quietly.

The air conditioning was high, and she crossed her arms to ward off the chill.

Married to Shane for three years, she knew his character well. His concessions were a form of granting a favor... and she should be grateful. But she wasn't.

He said a lot and conceded a few points, but he avoided mentioning Maria. Which meant if she accepted his arrangement, Maria would continue to be present in their lives...Nothing would really change.

Linda was tired and didn't want to remain trapped in a loveless marriage.

She refused softly, "No, my father's doctor is doing a good job."

Shane understood her meaning. She rejected his offer and insisted on divorce. He felt anger rise within him. "Linda, don't forget the prenuptial agreement. If you divorce, you won't get a dime."

"I know!" She replied quickly.

Shane lost his patience and said nothing further.

Twenty minutes later, as the car pulled into the villa they shared, he stopped the car and told the doorman, "Lock the gate and don't let a fly out."

The doorman looked suspicious, wanting to ask something,

But Shane had already driven off and parked in front of the villa.

The car stopped. Linda unfastened her seatbelt and started to get out. With a click, Shane locked the car.

Linda carefully set the car door closed, the silence inside thick and suffocating.

Shane, back from a business trip and immediately heading to the his residence, was clearly weary. He rubbed his temples, his hand resting on the steering wheel, and said with a hint of impatience, "How long are you going to keep this up?"

His words confirmed her fears: he saw this as nothing more than a tantrum.

A chill settled in Linda's heart. Straightening her posture, she stared ahead, her voice barely a whisper, "Shane, I'm serious. I don't want to be with you anymore."

Shane turned his head sharply, his gaze piercing.

He possessed a striking handsomeness, features sharply defined. Once, Linda had been completely captivated by his face, but now, she felt nothing. Absolutely nothing.

His dark eyes locked on her as he unfastened his seatbelt with a sharp click. "Get out of the car."

The sound of the car locking echoed in the sudden silence.

Linda immediately obeyed, stepping out of the vehicle and heading towards the villa's entrance. The light illuminated her back, straight and unyielding, a reflection of her firm decision to seek a divorce.

Shane waited long enough to finish a cigarette before exiting the car and following her inside.

The separation had begun, cold and unresolved.

That night, Linda took the guest room, and Shane, consumed by anger, made no attempt to coax her back. He changed into his pajamas and lay down, but the emptiness beside him felt unsettling, unfamiliar.

He was used to Linda's presence, always seeking his warmth from behind, no matter how distant he seemed.

The next morning, sunlight streamed into the bedroom.

Shane instinctively raised a hand to shield his eyes, awakening fully.

Faint sounds drifted up from downstairs.

He recognized the sounds of the maid preparing the dining room. Usually, Linda would assist, personally preparing his breakfast.

A sense of hope flickered within Shane. He rose and headed to the walk-in closet to dress.

Then, he stopped dead in his tracks.

Linda's suitcase was gone.

Shane threw open the wardrobe. Sure enough, several of her usual outfits were missing.

After a silent moment, he closed the wardrobe and changed into his business attire. He quickly washed and, while fastening his watch, descended the stairs. He casually asked the maid, "Where is my wife?"

The maid answered cautiously, "The lady left early this morning with her suitcase, without even asking for the driver."

"Well, good for her!" Shane retorted.

He ignored the situation, settling at the table to consume his usual black coffee and whole-wheat toast.

His eyes were drawn to the newspaper headlines.

It was filled with gossip about him and Maria, the titles sensationally eye-catching. Shane stared at them for a long time before quietly asking the maid, "Did she read the newspaper before she left?"

The maid replied honestly, "Madam left without having breakfast."

Shane glanced up at her, then snatched his phone and dialed Secretary Esther, "Take care of those newspaper stories!"

He was about to hang up after a few brief instructions.

Shane's slender fingers loosened his tie, his voice deceptively calm, "Also, find out where Linda sold her wedding ring. I want it back by 4 p.m."

Secretary Esther was stunned.

After a long pause, she whispered, "That's impossible! Mrs. Linda loves you so much; why would she sell her wedding ring?"

Shane's only response was to disconnect the call.

He threw the phone onto the table, his appetite completely gone as he stared at the offending news.

...

Linda returned to her mother's house, where Beatrice was preparing soup to take to the hospital.

Upon seeing Linda, Beatrice's composure faltered.

She pointed at the suitcase, her tone accusatory, "What couple doesn't argue? It's normal for men to stray occasionally. That Maria looks so pathetic and has a limp... I even inquired about her; she won't affect your position at all. There's no need to get a divorce. "

"What position am I even gaining with Shane?!"

Linda gave a bitter laugh as she packed the pigeon soup into a thermos, "I'm going to the hospital to see Dad later."

Beatrice continued to stare.

Finally, Beatrice wiped her hands on a rag and said angrily, "Your father will be furious if he finds out you're getting a divorce! Linda... Maybe you should reconsider. Even if you really can't live with him, how will you survive after the divorce? This family is barely hanging on as it is. What will you use to support it?"

Linda slowly tightened the lid of the thermos.

After securing it, she softly spoke, her head bowed, "There has to be a solution! Selling the wedding rings will cover half a year of Dad's medical bills and my brother's legal fees... I'll sell the house, too, and get a job to support the family."

Tears welled up in Linda's eyes.

This house was her mother's legacy, something she had never considered selling, no matter how dire the circumstances.

Beatrice was taken aback.

She offered no more encouragement but still disagreed with the drastic measures.

After composing herself, Linda and Beatrice proceeded to the hospital.

Jacob Adams's condition had stabilized following treatment, although he remained disheartened, constantly worrying about his eldest son, Colt's future.

Linda decided to postpone mentioning the divorce for now.

That afternoon, the attending physician came for his rounds.

Harold Blake, a young and accomplished doctor of medicine, was a leading expert in neurosurgery. Tall (185cm) and handsome, he possessed a refined demeanor.

After his examination, he glanced at Linda and suggested, "Let's talk outside."

Linda looked surprised.

She immediately set down what she was holding and said softly to her father, "Dad, I'll be right back."

Soon, they were in a quiet corridor.

Sensing her nervousness, Harold offered a reassuring smile.

Then, looking down at the case file, he began, "Last night, I consulted with several surgical directors, and we unanimously recommend customized rehabilitation for Mr. Adams to maximize his recovery. However, the cost is considerable, approximately 150,000 dollars per month."

For Linda, 150,000 dollars was an exorbitant amount.

But without hesitation, she responded, "We'll proceed with the treatment."

Harold closed the file and looked at her intently.

They had actually known each other for a long time, but Linda had forgotten.

When Linda was very young, he had lived next door. He remembered the terrace outside her bedroom illuminated with small stars every summer evening, where Linda would sit, thinking of her mother.

She would ask him, "Harold, will Mom come back?"

Harold didn't know and couldn't answer. Now, looking at her, he recalled seeing her wedding three years ago when he returned to Washington. He had assumed she was marrying for love, but it seemed she was unhappy.

Shane was treating her coldly and harshly.

Harold was about to speak when a cold voice cut through the air, "Linda."

It was Shane.

Dressed in business attire – a dark gray shirt and black suit – Shane looked like he had come straight from the office. The crisp sound of his calfskin shoes echoed as he walked towards them.

Shane approached them.

Extending his hand with a hint of casualness, he said, "Harold, long time no see!"

Harold looked at the offered hand, smiled subtly, and shook it. "Mr. Shane, a rare visitor!"

Shane released his grip and glanced at Linda. "Visiting Dad?"

An unspoken tension simmered between the two men.

Linda, oblivious to the undercurrent, disliked creating a scene with Shane in front of Dr. Harold, so she simply nodded. "Dr. Harold , I'll go now."

Harold gave a slight smile.

Linda walked with Shane toward the ward in silence.

Since she was planning a divorce, she no longer felt compelled to ingratiate herself with him as she once had.

Near the ward door, Shane suddenly seized Linda's slender wrist, trapping her between himself and the wall. His eyes were a mix of emotions.

Just now, the way Harold had looked at Linda was the way a man looks at a woman.

Shane gently touched Linda's face, noticing how white and delicate it was.

His voice, slightly husky, asked, "What did you say to him?"

Linda tried to pull away, but Shane tightened his grip, pressing her back against the wall.

They were now intimately close, a stark contrast between hardness and softness.