I returned to the bedroom after dinner and sat there for a long time.

Only when the bedroom door opened did I snap out of it.

Ayden walked in, and I looked up, noticing his bare wrist and the cheap necklace around his neck that caught the light in a glaring way.

I stopped beating around the bush and held my phone right in front of him. "Is the necklace from her?"

He glanced at the screen and pushed my phone aside. "You're being ridiculous."

"Ridiculous?" I chewed on the word over and over, feeling as if my heart was crushed.

He finally looked up, with no trace of guilt in his eyes, and answered lightly. "The girl just became my secretary. She gave me a little trinket on the spur of the moment. Ella, aren't you being too sensitive?"

I felt struck by lightning. Since when did Ayden hire female secretaries?

In the past, he always chose male assistants and drivers.

He said he didn't like having women around him.

The long silence irritated Ayden, and before closing the door he only left one sentence. "I'm sleeping in the study tonight. Calm down."

I stood there motionless, the three-second video looping on my phone.

My eyes grew dry and sore, yet I couldn't even bear to blink.

I knew Ayden's personality too well.

He had so many invisible rules that he allowed no one to break.

But he let me drink from his glass and mess up his neatly organized files.

I thought those were exceptions he made for me.

Now I realized they were probably just trivial matters to him.

I stood numbly for a long time before finally gathering the courage to walk into the study.

The door was unlocked, and his chat app was automatically logged in on the computer.

In five years of marriage, this was the first time I looked at his messages.

Among many work group chats, an account nicknamed "Clairy" was prominently pinned at the top of the dialogue list.

The chat contained no explicit sweet talk, just the girl's daily fragmented murmurs to him.

Yet they hurt more than any love words.

A notification from a flower shop popped up at the top of the screen.

I stared at it for a while before reacting and clicked into the message.

The earliest order date on the details page was from a year ago.

So it started that long ago?

Back in the chat interface, I realized that the Ayden I thought was dull and old-fashioned actually remembered the types of flowers a girl liked.

I stared at the computer screen in a daze for a long time.

So long that I didn't notice when Ayden returned.

"What are you doing?" I lifted my head and met his cold gaze.

He glanced over my face, then at the lit screen.

Each heartbeat pulled at a sour ache.

I suddenly lost all strength to probe further. "The person in the video is you, right?"

Ayden paused noticeably. "What?"

I swiped open my phone, navigated to Claire's profile page, and held it out to him.

I stared into his eyes, trying to find a hint of panic.

But there was nothing.

"Just because of this?" He walked in and casually turned off the computer. "You said it yourself, girls love fantasizing about these idol scenarios. Mrs. Martin, since when did you start fussing over things like this?"

The word "fussing" stuck in my throat.

Ayden and I always seemed separated by an uncrossable winter.

Perhaps he had never truly cared about me.

"Since you're so suspicious, come with me to the dinner tonight." Ayden suddenly spoke.

I froze.

This was the first time in five years he actively suggested taking me to such an event.

"Will she be there?"

His frown deepened, as if annoyed by my questioning. "She is my secretary. Of course she will be."

His tone was straightforward, as if my question was both unnecessary and laughable.

But I still agreed.

The private room door swung open.

This was my second time seeing Claire Hardy.

No wonder she caught Ayden's eye. She was as youthful and beautiful as in the video.

"My wife, Ella." Ayden introduced me briefly to everyone.

Claire smiled and greeted me, yet didn't move from the main seat at all.

I wasn't annoyed and simply found a spot to sit.

The table full of people toasted and chatted, taking the chance to toast the young and pretty Claire.

Ayden reached over with his glass and clinked theirs. "She doesn't drink."

I watched all this in silence.

I picked up my glass and downed a large gulp.

The cold liquid slid down my throat, burning my esophagus.

Under the table, the tip of Claire's high heel lightly tapped his shoe.

When the gathering ended, Claire, slightly tipsy, leaned on Ayden and said her earring had fallen.

He bent down to pick it up without hesitation.

Revealing a faint scratch mark on the back of his neck.

He patiently squatted on the floor, searching for an earring that probably didn't even exist for another woman.

The driver first dropped Claire home.

Only the two of us remained in the back seat.

Reflected in the car window was my face that had long lost its color.

I looked out the window and suddenly spoke. "Mr. Martin appreciates her so much. He should give her a big gift at year-end."

Ayden turned his head, frowning slightly. "Give what?"

"Give her a proper status. I'll step aside for her."

The air in the car froze instantly.

Ayden stared at me, anger surging in his eyes. "Ella, that's enough. Claire is just a secretary. She was in the past, and she will be in the future. If you're unhappy, I'll just have her stay away from you less."

After saying that, he sighed and reached out as he used to, wanting to stroke my head.

I tilted my head to avoid it.

This small movement left his outstretched hand frozen in mid-air. "I'll prepare the divorce agreement. You just need to sign it."

I prepared the divorce agreement.

Ayden did not sign it and avoided the villa for a long time, as if running away.

Every other day without fail, I sent him the divorce agreement.

He still did not sign.

Ayden acted as if he had given up caring.

From then on, his name and Claire's began appearing prominently in various gossip news.

The heir to the Martin Group, known for zero scandals, now had a beautiful confidante by his side.

It became a favorite topic in high society.

No matter the occasion, if Ayden was there, Claire was too.

The news headlines shifted from initial surprised speculation to ambiguous conclusions.

Ayden was in love with his pretty secretary rising in status.

I smiled and turned off the screen.

After that, Sophia sought me out, behaving unusually. "I know you're pushing for divorce because of some little secretary. But you know better than I do what kind of man Ayden is. He carries the entire Martin Group on his shoulders. Some casual flirting outside is normal. As long as it doesn't shake your position, turn a blind eye. It's better for everyone."

Obedience had been my shackle during these five years in the Martin family.

In plain terms, the family needed a compliant and sensible mistress like me.

I smiled and withdrew my hand. "Sophia, I'm tired."

The smile on Sophia's face faded a bit. She only asked me to think it over.

Even if just to bring Ayden back first.

Family reputation mattered more than anything. She wanted me to publicly put out the fire.

I had no choice.

As soon as I entered the private room, the lively atmosphere froze.

Ayden sat in the center, with two buttons of his shirt undone.

Even after knowing him for seven or eight years, I had never seen him look so lazily disheveled.

Claire had some real skill.

Ayden looked up, a flash of surprise in his eyes.

"Hey, the wife is here?" Someone spoke up first.

All eyes focused on me.

Curious, amused, gloating.

Claire let out a soft "ah," her face showing awkwardness and unease. "Mr. Martin, has Miss Fuller misunderstood something... Should I leave first?"

She picked up her handbag and pretended to go, but Ayden grabbed her wrist and pressed her back onto the sofa.

He looked at me with interest. "Why are you here?"

I walked up to him, ignoring the others' gazes. "Sophia sent me. The recent news about you isn't looking good. She hopes you'll be more discreet and come home soon."

Ayden sneered and pulled Claire closer. "Telling me to be discreet. Ella, weren't you the one pushing for divorce just days ago? Now what standing do you have to say these things to me?"

Ayden's words were like ice picks, seemingly trying to pierce my calm.

Unfortunately, he would be disappointed. "Say whatever you want. I've delivered the message. If you want to keep playing, then keep playing. As for the divorce, the agreement is valid anytime."

My indifference seemed to enrage Ayden.

He suddenly swept the glass in front of him to the floor and stood up, walking toward me.

He spoke through gritted teeth. "Ella, it's just casual flirting. But you? Have you really stopped caring at all?"

I met his intense gaze and asked softly. "Ayden, have you ever cared?"

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.

I no longer looked at him and turned to leave the private room.

After a few steps, hurried footsteps followed behind me.

It was Claire.

She caught up and stepped in front of me.

Then she held up her phone screen, showing a list of visitor records on her video page. "All the views on my video came from you, Miss Fuller, right? Why bother? Pretending to act like you don't care at all, but secretly watching so closely. Aren't you tired?"

I looked at her and suddenly remembered that when I was still struggling with bit parts, I used to dress like that too.

Since I stayed silent, she seemed even more certain. "I know what kind of man Ayden is. He is disciplined and proud, never allowing anyone to overstep. But now he breaks his rules for me. You know that clearly, don't you? Why do you still cling on and refuse to step aside?"

I waited quietly for her to finish, then smiled softly. "Is that so? That's great then."

Claire froze, apparently not expecting this reaction.

I paused, then continued. "Then go make him divorce me. See if he listens to you."

The color drained from Claire's face.

She forced herself to stay calm and said. "We'll see about that. Let's see if he chooses me or you, the worn-out wife."

After Claire left, my alternate account got a notification that she and I had mutually followed each other.

Ayden still did not agree to the divorce afterward.

A few days later, Claire sent me a message.

No text, just a photo.

The lighting was dim, with a rough wall in the background.

The shooting angle vaguely captured a corner of a familiar floral tablecloth, the one my mother loved most before she passed.

My heart sank sharply.

Immediately after, a second message popped up. "Miss Fuller, guess where we are? Ayden said this place holds some sentimental value."

Sentimental value?

A chill instantly crawled up my spine.

Before I could react, a third message followed. "Ayden told me this is the old house where you and your aunt lived together back then. Oh dear, why keep this old and rundown place? I think Ayden should just have the building demolished."

That basement was my shelter during my lowest times and the place where my mother spent her final days.

Everything inside, though cheap and worn, I had carefully preserved. It was the most sacred corner in my heart that no one could defile.

Ayden clearly knew that, yet now he brought Claire there.

He even allowed her to take photos and encouraged her to send me messages commenting and planning.

My fingers trembled uncontrollably. "Get out of there!"

I could almost picture Claire nestled against Ayden.

Gloating and curiously examining that small space, freely pointing at the last remnants my mother left me.

I stared hard at the screen, but there was no reply for a long time.

I gritted my teeth and typed another message. "Did you hear me? Get out! Don't pollute the place where my mom rests!"

After the message sent, a video call request immediately popped up.

It was from Ayden.

I stared at the bouncing avatar and pressed accept.

On the screen, it was indeed that familiar corner of the room.

The camera first swept over Claire, then turned aside.

Ayden leaned against the old desk, toying with a cheap ceramic mug in his hand.

He did not look at the camera and spoke lazily to the person beside him. "See, I told you. This is the one thing she can't stand."

Then, he slowly turned his face to look at me on the other end of the screen.

He faced me, curled his lips, and said word by word. "Ella, do you still dare to mention divorce?"