When I find out about that woman's existence, it turns out that they've been dating for a very long time.

Simon Jensen protects her very well. Even though he's already attended banquets with her and has introduced her to all of his friends, I still have yet to see any of her photos. Heck, I don't even know her name.

If it weren't for the fact that Simon was unable to resist that woman's coquettish pleading and brought her to the fashion show press conference as a brand investor, I'd probably remain in the dark forever.

At this moment, I stare at Simon from far away, who's currently gazing at his lover standing on the runway. There's a hint of a gentle smile in his eyes.

The camera flashes keep clicking. One of the reporters can't resist asking, "Mr. Jensen, are you a fan of Angela Stewart as well?"

Simon never averts his gaze from Angela. He replies, "No. She's the love of my life."

So, it turns out the cold and aloof Simon is capable of doting on a young woman to this degree.

I spin the dull wedding ring around my ring finger subconsciously. That's when I realize how meaningless this marriage actually is.

It was pouring outside by the time the fashion show press conference wrapped up.

Simon Jensen walked out of the venue. He was visibly taken aback when he saw me. Then, he asked, "What are you doing here?"

I'd never told him that the designs for this fashion show he'd invested in were actually mine.

In the nine years of our marriage, I'd been nothing more than a stay-at-home wife in his eyes. But in truth, I was also a fashion designer with a bit of renown in the industry.

It just so happened that the organizer of this particular fashion show had personally sent me an invitation.

Just then, Angela Stewart walked out as well. She wore an extravagant runway gown, and her cheeks were flushed. She'd obviously had quite a bit to drink.

"Simon," she called softly.

The moment Simon heard her voice, he immediately turned back and instinctively reached out to steady her by the arm, his eyes full of concern. "How much did you drink?"

She leaned her head against his shoulder and said cutely, "I had a few extra toasts with the organizers. They said they want me back as the headliner for next season's show."

Simon hurriedly shrugged off his jacket and carefully draped it over her shoulders, saying gently, "You don't have to push yourself so hard. I've got more than enough money to keep you set for several lifetimes."

A cold draft blew over me, and I let out a quiet, bitter snort.

Back in the day, Simon's startup had crashed and burned. His company had needed five million dollars to come back from the dead.

At the time, luxury brands and fashion show organizers had been fighting over the designs for my original collection. Without hesitation, I'd sold the designs and even made one request to the designer—that Simon had to be listed as a sponsor.

The organizer already had a designer he wanted to promote, so to seal the deal, he gave me a condition in return—my identity as the true designer would never be disclosed.

Later, that season's show became a huge success. As the sponsor, Simon managed to revive his failing company and officially break into the fashion industry.

With my help, he'd climbed step by step until he became a leading figure in the industry. Now, his name carried serious weight in this circle.

I'd built his brilliant life, yet his light had never once shone on me.

Angela curled her hand into a loose fist and thumped it on Simon's chest, pretending to be reproachful as she chided, "It's not like you don't know me. I'm not some delicate little thing."

Simon looked at Angela, the corners of his lips lifting into a gentle smile.

Just then, the driver pulled the car up to the entrance. When he saw me, he called out, "Mrs. Jensen…"

Angela didn't realize he was talking to me. She thought it was Simon calling her, so she laughed and playfully complained, "Why are you so naughty? When did I ever say yes to you?"

Simon flushed red in an instant. He glanced over at me, a flicker of panic in his eyes. But in the end, he still wrapped an arm around the drunken Angela and helped her into the car.

Amid the rain, the black Maybach slowly disappeared from my line of sight.

After it drove off, a familiar voice rang out beside me. "Was it worth it, doing all that for him?"

I smiled and said, "There's no such thing as worth it or not. Life is long. If something's bad for you, you just throw it away."

"I heard you've got a brand-new original design draft in the making."

I turned and met those bright, sparkling eyes. I teased, "Did you plant some kind of surveillance device on me, Mr. Rivers?"

…

When I got home, Simon still hadn't returned. The dim, silent living room was so quiet that it was almost frightening.

I slipped the ring off my left ring finger and tossed it aside. It hit the floor with a crisp clink, then rolled off somewhere. I didn't bother to see where it went.

I headed upstairs and pulled my suitcase out. But when I opened the wardrobe, I suddenly realized I barely had any decent clothes.

Ever since I married Simon, I'd become a full-time housewife. Aside from loungewear, I hardly had anything I could actually wear out. Even the engagement ring he'd given me back when he proposed didn't fit properly.

All these years, the thing I'd bought the most… turned out to be kitchenware.

Forget it. I didn't want to think about it anymore.

When the moving company guys arrived, I was in the middle of smashing my wedding photos with Simon.

They stepped into the foyer and froze. One of the older movers gave me a simple, honest smile. "Uh, so are you two getting a divorce?"

The younger guy next to him quickly slapped a hand over his mouth and looked at me apologetically. "I'm so sor—"

I smiled and answered, "Yes, we are."

The older mover rolled up his sleeves. "Alright, then. What do you need us to move?"

I pointed around the house, only then realizing that about 80% of everything here had been bought by me. I looked back at the two of them and said, "Uh, you might want to call a few more people over."

…

By the time I was settled in my own apartment, it was already 3:00 am.

I curled up on the couch, exhausted, and unlocked my phone. Right on top of the trending list was a photo of Simon carrying Angela into a hotel.

The articles read, "Domineering CEO's True Love", "Rising Supermodel Angela Stewart's Relationship Exposed", and "Angela Stewart Really Is Simon Jensen's True Love".

I remembered the day I married Simon. He'd been drunk out of his mind and kept calling Angela's name in our bridal suite.

Back then, I figured that everyone probably had someone they couldn't quite let go of. He did, and so did I. So what right did I have to demand so much from him?

The next morning, he was gentle and attentive, and he called me "honey" with such tenderness. He never said a word about what had happened on our wedding night.

I told myself that maybe he didn't remember, or maybe he was deliberately pretending not to.

But now, it was clear as day that he'd never really forgotten about Angela.

…

The next day, I was jolted awake by my phone ringing. When I answered the call, an enraged roar blasted through the speaker.

"Ava Chase! Where the hell have you run off to?"

I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and checked the time. It was only 7:00 am.

"You done with your little errand?" I asked, pushing myself up from the couch. I looked around at all the furniture I'd yet to have time to set up properly.

Simon was taken aback for a second before he exploded on the other end of the line. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Didn't you go to a hotel with Angela?"

"I-I just dropped her off! That's all!"

I yawned, then couldn't help laughing as I teased him. "Oh? So after you dropped her off at the hotel, what did you two do? Play Uno? Oh, but that's only fun with three people. I'm guessing you guys just fell right into bed?"

Simon took a deep breath. "You can be mad, but there's got to be a limit, right? It's fine if you want to throw a fit, but why did you move every bed out of the apartment?"

I chuckled. "I bought them."

"What about the curtains?"

"I bought those, too."

He ground out, "The couch and the rug?"

"I paid for those as well. Want me to send you the receipts?"

"Fine. Everything you bought, you can take. I won't argue. But why did you go as far as to unscrew the smart lock from the front door?"

I glanced at the smart lock lying in the trash and burst out laughing. "Simon, I took everything that belongs to me. I'll email you the divorce papers later. If you don't have any objections, let's just have a clean break and be done with this."

With that, I hung up and blocked his number. I remembered to block him on WhatsApp, too.

…

Once I had settled everything at my apartment, I received a call from Ethan Rivers. He said the last fashion show had been a huge success and he hoped I would attend the celebration party.

I knew what he was really doing—this was his way of extending an olive branch. He hoped I would take the lead on designing the next season's major original IP fashion collection.

I'd spent three whole years carefully developing the drafts for the collection. I hadn't expected him to be the first to get wind of it, though.

Soon after, Ethan sent over a custom 2025 spring haute couture gown; the sincerity behind it practically radiated from the box.

"The dress is tailored to your measurements. I'll be waiting for you there. All the big-name fashion investors want to meet our mysterious star designer. Just come and do me this favor, okay?"

I held the invitation, my gaze drifting down to the guest list printed on it. Simon's and Angela's names stood out in bold print.

But what really caught my eye was…

"Why is Hugo Sadler on this list?" I asked.

"That's exactly why I need you to come," Ethan replied. "I have no idea why a supermodel like him suddenly insisted on attending my celebration party.

"But according to his agent, he wants to collaborate with me on the next fashion show. The designs for that next show have to be yours, Ava!"

"But I still haven't decided who I want to partner with on this collection," I said.

"Leave that part to me," Ethan said confidently. " I'll push both the runway show and the campaign visuals at the same time."

His voice grew more animated as he continued, "I've mapped it all out. Since you've decided to get a divorce, it's time to go public with who you really are.

"With your status as a top designer, plus the boost from Hugo, this season is guaranteed to blow up and wipe out the competition!"