My lips pressed tightly together as I packed my things.

While leaving, I heard Lydia Montague's mocking voice.

"Esme sis, aren't you just like me-depending on a man? And you thought you had so much backbone?"

My hand on the suitcase paused. I responded defiantly:

"Did you forget? He and I aren't divorced yet. He's still my husband..."

Suddenly, Theo Pembroke gripped my arm tightly.

"Esme Fairchild, who gave you the guts to bully Lydia in front of me? And the warning I gave you-have you forgotten them all?"

My heart felt like it had been pricked by a needle.

Since we got married, he had never made my identity public.

People only knew he was married, but women still surrounded him.

Since I couldn't join the dance competition, there was no reason to wait another week to leave.

With that thought, I felt a little better.

Before going home, I stopped by the law office and printed a divorce agreement.

Then I sent another text to that phone number.

"No need to wait a week. I'll leave in two days."

Back at the villa, I sat on the couch in a daze.

Theo Pembroke came home at this hour, which was rare.

He stood at the entrance, meeting my gaze.

It was as if he saw his past self.

After work, sitting in the living room, waiting late into the night, finally waiting for the husband to return home.

I walked up with a smile, thoughtfully helping him take off his coat and shoes.

"Honey, was today tiring? I learned a new massage technique, would you like to try it...?"

These past few years, except for working as a dance instructor at the institute, I spent all my remaining time revolving around him.

Day after day, yet I never received a single kind look from him.

Now stepping out of it and examining the past as a bystander, I found myself utterly foolish.

Seeing I didn't respond, Theo Pembroke frowned.

"What are you thinking? Running away?"

I found it a little funny.

"What if I wanted to run away? What would you do?"

He walked over to me and suddenly pushed me down on the sofa, cleverly changing the subject.

"You don't like our son, then let's have a daughter. Daughters are more obedient and can keep you company. That way, life at home might be a bit better for you."

When I married into this family, the servants saw that Theo Pembroke treated me with indifference, and since I had a mild temper, they didn't take me seriously either.

All the hard and dirty work was dumped on me.

Back then I loved Theo deeply, and never once complained to him.

He saw my situation but watched coldly from the side.

My thoughts returned as my nightgown was pulled off.

His kisses fell on my body.

Fierce and domineering, carrying a hint of punishment.

No matter how he provoked me, I stayed completely unmoved.

Turns out, when you no longer love someone, your body doesn't respond.

Theo lost interest and got off me.

"Esme Fairchild, I know your body well. You shouldn't be reacting like this."

He grabbed my chin and examined me.

"Tell me, have you slept with another man?"

Theo loved to play with women, but he had a cleanliness obsession.

He couldn't tolerate any man coveting the women he had slept with.

At the dance institute, a security guard liked to watch me dance.

Theo saw it and had him fired by the director that very day.

Theo Pembroke even pressed charges against him for harassment and sent him to the police.

I bit my lip and let out a laugh from the humiliation.

"Yes, just like you thought. I've slept with all the men at the dance institute. Want to send them all to jail?"

Theo narrowed his eyes, voice hoarse.

"Is that so?"

Suddenly, he picked me up and carried me to the bathroom.

He really suspected me!

"If you're dirty, then let's clean you up."

He threw me into the bathtub and aimed the showerhead at my face.

Cold water poured down.

Goosebumps spread across my skin.

I struggled, but couldn't push his hand away.

Under the shock of the cold water, my PTSD was triggered.

The plane crash from when I was thirteen flashed through my mind.

I trembled all over, curling up in a corner.

Theo Pembroke thought I was faking illness again.

"Esme Fairchild, don't forget the reason you married me. You're not here to enjoy life, you're here to atone for your sins!"

That sentence again, the one he's repeated countless times.

This was our usual mode of interaction.

Nine out of ten of his words were laced with malice.

Seeing my dazed eyes and how I was about to slam into the wall, Theo Pembroke panicked and carried me to the bed.

"What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell..."

"Theo, all these years you've tortured me enough, and I've tortured myself enough too. Let's just let each other go!"

Furious,I threw the divorce papers on the nightstand in his face.

He stared at the signature line and gave a cold sneer.

"You're so eager to divorce me. Is there another man out there?"

I pressed my lips together and said nothing.

He slammed the door and left.

Tears streamed down my face.

Thankfully, after tomorrow, I'll finally be free.

The next day, Theo Pembroke texted me.

"If you want me to sign, come to Hilton Hotel. I've had the maid prepare your clothes."

It was a modified suit, making my shoulders look broad and my waist narrow.

Pushing open the private room door, a crowd of people turned to look at me.

Lydia Montague's smile was especially piercing.

"Esme, Mr. Brown wants to see someone dance. I twisted my ankle, so I'll have to trouble you."

The man's gaze landed on me, as if he wanted to devour me.

This was Theo Pembroke's purpose for having me here - to dance in Lydia Montague's place.

"Esme, don't you want a divorce? I'll grant your wish. As long as you dance well enough to please him, I'll sign."

He spoke word by word into my ear.

Then pushed me in front of Mr. Brown.

Mr. Brown wrapped his arm around my waist, his eyes glazed.

"They say a willow waist sways like a palace beauty. Now I see it with my own eyes. Don't worry, I've promised Mr. Pembroke - I'll only touch, won't do anything real. Dance well for me tonight, and I'll agree to contract with Pembroke Group for the second half of the year."

I stared at Theo Pembroke in disbelief.

Everyone in the circle knew Mr. Brown had a waist fetish. He couldn't move his feet when he saw a slim waist.

Last time, a client sent him a slender girl - rumor has it she ended up in the hospital, her waist broken.

I broke free from Mr. Brown's arms, but hadn't run far when Theo Pembroke grabbed me.

"Esme Fairchild, stop being so pretentious, will you? It's just a touch - you're not going to lose a piece of flesh. This is your bargaining chip with me."

So, this was the price of divorce!