Evan did not come home that night.

A heavy storm had swept in after dark, and the death track still claimed its victim.

Evan's car had flipped over the guardrail. Beyond it lay the raging coastline. One more roll and he would have been swallowed by the sea.

Cora had dragged him out of the water herself, nearly risking her own life to do it.

That same night, Blaire finalized the divorce agreement with her lawyer. The moment she unlocked her phone, headlines flooded the screen.

"Evan Everett dances with death for a beauty."

"The beauty who saved him—will he choose new passion or old desire?"

......

After clearing the sensational nonsense, Blaire noticed that Evan had called her over a dozen times an hour earlier. Judging by the timing, he must have just been declared out of danger.

She had intended to ignore it. But for the sake of the divorce papers, she went to the hospital anyway.

Evan's room was empty. After asking around, she found Cora's hospital room instead.

From the doorway, she saw Evan wrapped in bandages, sitting vigil beside Cora's bed. He held her hand tightly, as though afraid she might vanish if he loosened his grip.

As if sensing her presence, Evan turned. His eyes were bloodshot. "Honey," he rasped.

Blaire walked in and handed him the document. "Sign it."

"What is this?"

He did not need her answer. The words Divorce Agreement were printed clearly across the cover.

His face drained of color as he stared at her. "I almost died in that crash. You're not even going to ask if I'm hurt? You're asking for a divorce?"

Blaire was silent for a moment before she spoke. "If my husband died for another woman, would that be something I should feel proud of? Evan, my reputation matters too. If you'd actually died, you would have dragged my name through the mud with you. So while you're still breathing, sign."

His jaw tightened, a vein pulsing at his temple.

"Everyone knows my primary and secondary personalities are different. Who, besides you, would blame a patient with dissociative identity disorder for being emotionally inconsistent? As for reputation, do you even have one left? Why are you so obsessed with meaningless pride that you keep giving up on me—on my feelings—over and over again?"

Blaire's fists clenched so hard her nails dug into her palms. Her voice trembled despite her restraint. "Evan, I'm the one giving up? I heard you. You're not sick at all…"

A strained groan slipped from Cora's lips. Evan immediately stood and leaned over her, checking on her condition with anxious care. Every gentle movement, every worried glance, cut so sharply that Blaire could barely stand there another second.

She repeated, more firmly, "Sign it."

"Blaire, do you have to be this aggressive? My secondary personality is a complete individual with his own thoughts. I gave him up once for you, but he came back. I can't strip him of his rights again."

Evan lowered his head, dragging a hand through his hair in exhaustion. Anger and agitation were tightly restrained in his voice.

"Blaire, you can't be this heartless and this greedy. We were happy—but what about them? They would die for each other. Their love isn't any less than ours."

Blaire had no interest in hearing another lie.

"Evan, either you sign, or I file through the court. Your choice."

He looked at her steadily, certainty soft in his tone. "You can't leave me. I know you love me. Just like I love you. We can't be apart. Honey, we've already divorced three times over this. Can you stop being difficult? Try to be understanding. Don't make this a scene."

Blaire let out a quiet laugh. "You think I'm making a scene?"

Evan said nothing. His flat, untroubled gaze answered for him.

She nodded once, unwilling to waste another word. "Then let's find out."

Blaire had formally filed for divorce through her lawyer. The lawyer gently reminded her that the more evidence they gathered of Evan's infidelity, the stronger her case would be.

She stared at the message for a long time, a strange mix of clarity and bitter self-mockery settling over her.

Once, she had been kidnapped by one of Evan's rivals. He had nearly died on that same track trying to save her.

That was when the so-called psychological break had begun—when he claimed to have split into a second personality, one created solely to protect a primary self devoted only to Blaire.

Blaire had believed him without hesitation. She had even blamed herself. That was why she kept turning back, again and again. Only now did she realize it had all been a lie from the very beginning.

There was nothing left in this marriage worth hesitating over.

She was about to reply to her lawyer when she heard movement at the entryway.

Evan walked in on crutches. It had only been a short time since she had seen him, yet the exhaustion in his face seemed heavier.

"I've signed the divorce papers," he said quietly. "I'll ask you one more time. Are you sure you want this?"

Blaire's expression did not change. She nodded. "I'm sure."

Evan gave a soft acknowledgment and placed the documents on the table.

Blaire flipped to the last page and signed her name neatly beside his bold, sweeping signature.

A muffled sob broke the silence.

She turned her head and realized that at some point, Evan had begun to cry. Tears streamed openly down his face.

"I don't want a divorce," he said hoarsely.

Blaire believed him.

She had never doubted his love for her. Just as she no longer doubted that he would betray her again. Both were fixed truths.

The divorce papers were crumpled in his fist, tear stains blotting the ink beside his name.

Evan was not a man who cried easily. But he always cried for Blaire.

He had cried while begging for another chance. He had cried, saying he did not know what to do. He had cried, whispering that he loved her more than anything.

The man who stood dignified before the world, capable of carrying an entire conglomerate on his shoulders, had turned into someone fragile and desperate whenever he faced Blaire after each divorce.

Blaire parted her lips, intending to speak—then her gaze caught the brand-new diamond ring on his hand.

"Cora wants us divorced." Evan traced the ring with his thumb as he explained in a strained voice. "She saved my life. This is the only thing she asked for. I owe her that. I promised that when the secondary personality comes back, I'll give her a wedding. It will be as if I've married her. But legally, you're still my only wife. I've arranged everything. The sixteenth of next month is ideal. We'll divorce now and remarry that day."

Even now, he clung stubbornly to that absurd theory of dual personalities.

"You think the courthouse is some tourist spot you can check in and out of?" A dull, numb ache spread across Blaire's chest. She spoke slowly, each word deliberate. "Evan, I told you. This is the last time."

His eyes reddened further. He was about to speak when a sharp, arrogant ringtone shattered the moment.

Whatever he heard on the other end made his expression darken instantly.

A cold, accusatory gaze fell on Blaire. "Blaire, what did you do to Cora?"

Blaire frowned. "I don't know what you're—"

"I'm the one who wronged you. So why are you hurting Cora?" Evan moved like a lion whose territory had been violated. He seized Blaire's wrist and demanded, "Honey, aren't you supposed to be reasonable? Is this because I signed the divorce papers first? I told you, I'm not actually divorcing you. We've divorced three times already. What difference does one more make? In the end, you're always the one by my side. Why would you hurt Cora out of jealousy? Do you even know she just made it out of danger?"

Blaire yanked her hand free. "I have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Do you really not know, or are you just that confident?"

Evan's face darkened. He hurled his phone against her chest. A video began to play automatically.

On-screen, a man in a white lab coat knelt on the floor, bowing repeatedly toward the camera.

A cold voice off-screen said, "Repeat what you just said."

The man trembled violently. "I'll talk, I'll tell you everything. Just let me go. Ms. Bennett put me up to this. She said Cora was a manipulative seductress, that she was clever enough to tie Mr. Everett down by risking her own life. If she could gamble with death to win, she could just as easily be made into a real corpse."

"What proof do you have?"

"There's thirty thousand dollars in my pocket. Ms. Bennett gave it to me. It was payment to inject Cora with a cyanide compound."

The video cut off abruptly.

The absurdity of it crashed over Blaire. "That wasn't me. I've never paid anyone to hurt her. Evan, check it. Please—"

"You think I didn't?" He cut her off with a low snarl, disappointment burning in his eyes. "Three hours ago, thirty thousand dollars left your account. Did you really think I'd believe you unconditionally? That you could pull something this cheap and stupid right in front of me?"

Blaire's heart pounded. How could coincidence be this cruel?

"That was the lawyer's fee. I was preparing to file for divorce—"

"Enough!" Evan shook his head with a cold, humorless laugh. "I spoiled you rotten. You actually thought you could toy with someone's life. Honey, you need to learn boundaries. You need to understand what you can and cannot do."

He lifted a hand. The bodyguards who had been waiting near the entryway stepped forward immediately. With practiced precision, they forced Blaire down onto the sofa. One of them held a sharp syringe.

Her struggling only earned her harsher restraint. As the needle drew closer, she forced herself to stay calm. "Evan, I didn't do this. I've already decided to divorce you. Whoever you love has nothing to do with me anymore. Just calm down."

"I am calm." Evan bent down, looming over her shrinking frame. There was almost tenderness in his smile. "Honey, they'll be gentle. Just think of it as taking a nap. I love you too much to let anything happen to you. This is just a small lesson. You need to understand consequences."

"No—"

Blaire fought, but it was useless. The needle pierced her skin.

Within moments, her airway constricted violently. She gasped for breath, yet suffocation clamped down on her throat. Through the haze, she saw Evan's face and heard his voice soften as he spoke to someone else.

"Stop crying. The person responsible has been punished. I know you're scared. I know you miss me. I'm coming right now."

A bodyguard asked quietly, "Sir, should we intervene now?"

Evan glanced at his watch. "She won't be in real danger for another two or three minutes. I want her to remember this pain. Have the doctor step in before she actually dies."

Then his tone shifted, light but lethal. "Of course, if you miscalculate and my wife is harmed in any way, I promise none of you will walk away from it."

Tears slid down Blaire's temples. Regret—bottomless and suffocating—swallowed her whole.