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.

The feeling of hovering at death's edge was more terrifying than death itself.

The first thing Blaire did after regaining consciousness was call the police.

But before she could finish stating her case, Evan stormed into the room and snatched the phone from her hand.

He ended the call, irritation clear on his face. "Have you lost your mind?"

Her throat was raw from dehydration and days without food, her voice hoarse but steady. "I'm calling the cops, Evan."

She looked at him without flinching. "That was attempted murder."

Blaire's face was so ashen it looked translucent.

For a split second, Evan felt that same unsettling fear that he might lose her entirely. He frowned, suppressing the strange unease, and his tone softened almost involuntarily.

"Honey, we're still married. This is just a domestic dispute."

"Then I'll wait until we're divorced." She spoke each word clearly. "Time doesn't erase wrongdoing."

His heartbeat stuttered. Something in her voice suggested more than she was saying.

But what mistake had he made?

Everything a patient with dissociative identity disorder did could be excused as illness.

He didn't make mistakes. He got sick.

And Blaire would never know the difference.

He steadied himself. "Stop making this worse. If you hadn't hurt Cora first, none of this would've happened. If you actually call the police, you'll be the one who suffers. No one's going to risk crossing me over something this trivial."

Blaire let out a hollow laugh. "I almost died, and you think that's trivial?"

"I was watching. You weren't going to die." He added casually, "If you're still mad, next time we remarry, I'll let you give me a shot too. Fair enough? This was your fault. Maybe now you've felt some pain, you'll learn not to play with someone's life. And she's my lifesaver. Without her, I wouldn't even be here talking to you."

Lifesaver. And lover.

Evan cheated and still expected Blaire to clean up the narrative for him.

Love divided into two identical portions was nothing but repulsive.

Blaire closed her eyes. She no longer had the energy to argue.

Evan assumed she was simply angry and chose to wait for her to cool down.

Whether for convenience or sheer indifference, he arranged her hospital room next to Cora's.

Sometimes, when Blaire drifted in and out of thought, she heard laughter from the neighboring room.

Endless luxury goods passed her doorway on their way to Cora's room, all for the sake of a smile.

Even the nurses knew Evan was keeping two women at his side.

Blaire reacted to none of it. She ate when it was time to eat, slept when it was time to sleep—until one night she was jolted awake by a hand clamped over her mouth and nose.

Her eyes snapped open to see Cora, hair loose and wild.

"Ms. Bennett," Cora murmured, "does it take someone as shameless as you to keep crawling back after every stunt and still stay by Evan's side?"

The suffocation triggered Blaire's reflex. She shoved Cora away and clutched her chest, gasping for air.

Cora looked half-crazed, worn thin by gossip and by Blaire's indifference. "What's wrong with you? Do you really think he's staying at the hospital for you? No. I told him I wanted to have sex with him next to you. He refused to take me home, so this was as close as I could get. Do you even realize he doesn't love you anymore? He only loves me!"

"Love you?" Blaire's lips curved coldly. "You don't even qualify as the other woman. What makes you think he loves you?"

"Shut up!" Cora glared at her. "He listens to me now. I'll prove it."

Blaire gave a nonchalant nod. After Cora stormed out, Evan's call came through.

He didn't even wait for her to speak. "What did you do to Cora this time?"

"Anything else? If not, I'm hanging up."

"Wait." He sighed, exhaustion heavy in his voice. "She's crying hysterically. She wants you to personally organize our wedding. You know she's not stable. She can't keep crying like this. Don't worry. It's just a ceremony. You're the only one I consider my wife."

"Fine. But I have a condition." Her voice was calm. "Our divorce decree first. Then you can start planning your wedding."

"You really want to divorce me that badly?" he asked through clenched teeth.

Blaire said, "No. The choice is yours."

She did not go back to sleep. As expected, at dawn, Evan's secretary delivered the finalized divorce decree.

"Mr. Everett said you upset Ms. Hayes, so he has to make it up to her. That's why he didn't come in person today," the secretary explained. "He also said he doesn't want the divorce either, but this is the only way to keep everyone satisfied. He hopes you understand."

Blaire said nothing. As she ran her fingers over the familiar document, she felt lighter than she had in years.

Without notifying anyone, she completed her discharge paperwork and took a cab to the airport.

Evan called again and again.

She never answered. When she stepped out of the cab, she threw the phone into a trash bin.

She turned once more to look at the city that had held all her love and hatred. A small, relieved smile touched her lips.

Blaire thought to herself that whatever had existed between them ended here, and from now on she would never look back.