Secretly Extraordinary: I'm The Crown Jewel You Failed To Treasure

"Let's get a divorce." Inside the study, Henry Fowler's voice came calm and flat. There wasn't a hint of hesitation.

His wife, Allison Warren, looked down at the divorce papers slid across the desk. For a few seconds, she just stared. Then a faint, bitter smile touched her lips.

So this was why.

That explained why Henry, who rarely paid attention to her, had unexpectedly called and asked her to stay home tonight.

For a moment, she let herself think that three years of effort had finally gotten through to him. She'd been riding that hope all day. Then he came home and asked for a divorce.

She clenched her hands and held back her emotions. "Can't we talk about this first?"

From across the desk, Henry lifted his gaze toward the woman who had shared his marriage for the last three years.

She was still in her house clothes, apron still on like she hadn't had a moment to take it off. Her hair was clipped up, but strands had escaped after a day of running around. Thick black-rimmed glasses hid half her face, making her unreadable.

There was no denying that she had fulfilled her role well during the past three years. She kept the villa in order and handled every household matter herself. No matter how much trouble his mother and sister gave her, she never voiced a complaint.

She checked every box, but that came across as dull and lifeless.

Irritation flickered across Henry's face. "Kelsey's home. I think you know what that means."

The moment Henry brought up the woman, Allison went still. She knew exactly who he meant. It was Kelsey Norris, the love he could never forget, the one who had left for medical treatment abroad.

Three years earlier, Kelsey had taken off without a word. Henry chased after her obsessively—trip after trip, city after city—but always came up empty. No one knew where she was. It nearly drove him crazy.

Everything started falling apart after that. One mistake followed another at Fowler Group, and the company nearly collapsed because of his decisions. The pressure became too much for his grandfather, John Fowler. John's condition worsened until he was admitted to the ICU.

That brought Henry back down to earth. Guilt-ridden, he promised John he'd let Kelsey go. Soon after, he proposed to Allison—his grandfather's old friend's granddaughter.

But the marriage had never been real from day one. Because of Kelsey, Henry never once touched Allison in three years.

Maybe worried she'd say no, Henry pressed on, "Let's be honest—you don't have a degree, you don't have connections. I promised my grandpa I'd take care of you, and I will. You'll get the downtown penthouse plus thirty million. That's more than enough to live on."

There wasn't any warmth in his expression.

As far as he was concerned, marrying Allison had been nothing more than a decision made in the depths of defeat. Now that Kelsey had returned, he saw no reason to keep this marriage going.

In his mind, Allison was just an orphan with nothing going for her. Marrying him had lifted her out of obscurity. For three years she'd lived the good life as his wife. And now—a penthouse, a fortune, and her freedom. As far as he was concerned, that was more than generous.

Allison understood exactly what he meant.

In his mind, she had stayed in a marriage without love and without intimacy because of his wealth.

She lowered her eyes. A bitter taste spread through her mouth.

Could everything she had done for him during those three years really be measured by a penthouse and thirty million dollars?

When no response came from her, Henry drew his own conclusion. He assumed she wanted more.

A crease formed between his brows. His finger struck the divorce papers several times. "I hate greedy people. Don't push it. You know you'd never see this kind of money anywhere else. I'll give you three days. But if you drag your feet and still won't sign, don't cry when you get nothing."

"You don't need to give me three days," Allison said, cutting him off.

She looked at him and finally saw him clearly—after three years of marriage, she'd never really known him at all.

And right then, something inside her just died.

Without saying another word, she reached for the pen resting on the desk. Then she signed her name on the agreement without the slightest hesitation.