Monica's brows furrowed slightly. It was as if something suddenly dawned on her.

Her voice carried a hint of awkwardness as she said, "It's already past midnight. Just one more day, and I can finally divorce Gurney. Don't worry, Lincoln. I never forgot my promise to you. Tomorrow, we'll put on our rings and go get married."

Her sweet words did not move me. I only replied calmly, "Alright. I'm tired. I'm going to rest."

The smile on her face froze, and for the first time, she realized I was brushing her off.

A flicker of panic passed through her eyes as she reached for my hand.

Just then, Gurney came out of the bedroom wearing my pajamas.

His eyes were still half-closed from sleep.

He glanced at me, then slipped an arm around Monica's shoulders and whined playfully, "Monica, Lincoln's back already. Come on, let's get some sleep."

Monica quickly looked at me, scrambling to explain, "Gurney had a fight with his family, so I let him stay in the guest room for the night."

She stared at me nervously, as if terrified that I would get the wrong idea.

I nodded indifferently. "It's fine. I'll just stay at my mom's place tonight."

She froze, caught off guard by how easily I agreed.

Gurney smirked, turned on his heel, and strutted back into the bedroom without giving me the chance to change my mind.

When I pulled my suitcase toward the door, Monica was still standing there in the living room. Her lips pressed tight, her hand clutching mine like she could not let go.

Guilt swam in her eyes, growing heavier by the second.

Finally, with Gurney's impatient voice calling from the bedroom, she whispered, "Tomorrow, after we get married, we'll go visit your mom together."

By morning, I had packed everything and returned to the office to finish my final handover.

The moment I stepped inside, I could feel the stares. My colleagues glanced at me sideways, whispering behind my back.

Then, I saw why. Gurney was sitting at my desk.

The whole office tried to pretend they were busy, but their eyes kept flicking toward the scene like they were watching a car crash.

When he saw me, Gurney leaned back in my chair with a smug smile. "I'm starting here today. I want this desk. You can find another spot."

I looked at him calmly, nodded once. "Alright. I'll just pack my things."

We spoke so calmly, without drama, that my coworkers assumed I was backing down. In their eyes, the side piece was finally cowering in front of the rightful husband.

No one dared say it out loud, but I could hear the contempt clicking through their keyboards.

How could I explain otherwise? Legally, Gurney was Monica's husband. Anything I said would only humiliate me more.

I gathered my things and was about to leave when Monica rushed over.

Her eyes fell on the suitcase in my arms, and her face tightened. "Where are you going?"

"I..."

Before I could finish, Gurney cut in. "He's leaving my spot open. I like sitting here."

Seeing me turn away, Monica panicked and grabbed my arm. "No! This desk is yours, Lincoln. No one else..."

I cut her off. "If Gurney likes it, he can have it."

I had already left the company. What did a desk matter anymore?

She froze, her expression dark and unreadable. Only when I disappeared with my suitcase did she snap back to herself.

In front of everyone, she shoved Gurney aside, then slapped him across the face with a sharp crack.

"Did our sham marriage give you the illusion you could push your luck? Didn't I warn you to never mess with Lincoln?"

After leaving the company, my phone buzzed with messages from Monica.

[I'll wait for you at the courthouse tomorrow.]

[I arranged for a specialist to treat your mom.]

[Once we get our marriage certificates, we'll visit her together.]

I laughed bitterly and bid her a silent farewell.

'Goodbye, Monica,' I thought to myself.

I took my luggage and went straight to the airport.

The next day, while I was already gone, she stood at the entrance of the courthouse, her freshly obtained divorce papers still warm in her hand.