"Call me 'babe,' and I’ll tell you," Grayson teased, a mischievous grin on his face.

I raised an eyebrow, pretending to walk away, but he couldn’t let me go that easily. He chuckled and grabbed my arm before I could make it too far.

"Alright, alright," he said, laughing. "No need to leave. I’ll tell you."

I paused and gave him a questioning look, waiting. Finally, he dropped the bomb.

"It’s Veronica."

I froze for a moment, my mind scrambling to process what he was saying.

Grayson had orchestrated all of this?

He’d had his secretary slip the divorce agreement into the pile of documents Sean was about to sign, hoping to catch him off guard. Sean, distracted by his business, hadn’t even noticed and just signed everything without a second thought.

"That secretary’s been angling for a promotion for a while now," Grayson continued, leaning back in his chair, looking satisfied. "She couldn’t wait for Sean to sign those papers. She quietly tucked the divorce papers among the other contracts. Sean, too busy with his own matters, didn’t notice and signed them immediately."

He explained further, but I wasn’t really listening. My mind was stuck on the picture of Sean, caught up in the same mess brewing for so long.

As Grayson spoke, I couldn’t shake Sean’s voice in my head. Instead of feeling victorious, I felt this strange, aching emptiness.

I remember the time years ago when I almost got into a car accident. Sean had jumped in front of me, taking the hit so I wouldn’t. Even with his leg broken in multiple places, he kept his body between me and danger.

He had said, "Michelle, your parents are gone now. I’ll be the only one you can rely on. I’ll protect you with my life."

I had been so moved, so sure he was the one. But here we were, on the verge of divorce, everything falling apart.

How had we ended up like this?

Grayson didn’t hold back. He forwarded me every single video Sean had stored on his phone—footage of him and Veronica in moments far more intimate than I ever imagined.

There were videos from KTV nights, his living room, and his car. Each one was more passionate than the last, confirming just how far gone Sean really was.

"With this stuff," Grayson said, his voice cold but purposeful, "even if you take him to court for the divorce, you can get everything. He won’t get a penny."

I watched each video silently. Its weight crushed me with every passing second. Tears welled up, unstoppable. Grayson noticed, reaching out and gently wiping a tear away. His gaze was intense, almost unsettling, making my chest tighten.

"Michelle, he’s not worth crying over," he said softly.

I tried to smile, but it felt weak. The pain was still too raw.

Grayson cupped my face before I could say anything, his thumb brushing away the last of my tears.

"Grayson," I whispered, my voice shaky. "You’re also Sean’s good friend, right? For a woman... you’re willing to throw away all those years of brotherhood? Is it really worth it?"

Grayson didn’t flinch. Instead, he looked at me with an expression that made my heart skip a beat.

"Michelle, I admit it," he said, his voice low, almost guilty. "I’m a selfish bastard. I’m downright despicable. But all these years—everything, the friendship with Sean, the partnerships—was just to get you away from him."

I froze. His words hit harder than I expected, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe or think.

Grayson stepped forward before I could process what he’d just said, pinning me against the wall. His breath was ragged, and his face was inches from mine.

"Michelle," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Now that you’ve got the divorce agreement... can we finally…?"

I didn’t answer immediately. Instead, I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him down to meet my lips in a kiss that was equal parts desperate and affirming.

"Grayson," I whispered against his lips, "now I’m your girlfriend."

The words felt heavy, but reality came crashing back before I could even process what had just happened.

The divorce agreement was real. Sean would have to leave the villa and walk away with nothing—everything he’d built, the wealth, the gifts, the life we’d shared... gone.

I packed my things quietly as if nothing had changed. But when I went to grab the last of my things, I ran into Sean.

He probably had just returned from a maternity photoshoot with Veronica—his latest “family” outing.

"Michelle," he said, his voice full of anxiety, "I’ve called you dozens of times. Why didn’t you pick up?"

He hugged me tight without warning, holding me like his life depended on it.

"Don’t cut me off like this," he pleaded, his voice breaking. "I’ll go crazy! Michelle, please don’t do this."

I stood there, silent, my mind replaying everything—the good, the bad, the lies, the betrayals. If there were an Oscar for Best Actor, Sean would have won it.

The next day, he left early again, claiming to have a meeting. But I’d already checked with his assistant—Sean had taken a few days off and hadn’t gone to the office at all.

I had originally planned to pack all his things and be done with it. But then, a much more satisfying idea came to me—a way to hurt him even more.

I took all the designer bags Sean had bought me over the years and sent them out for authentication, only to be told...

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but all these are fake.”

I stood there, completely stunned.

Without missing a beat, I pulled out all the gold, silver, jewelry, and accessories that Sean had given me over the years of our marriage. I watched as they examined each piece meticulously. By the time they finished the appraisal, the staff had fallen into an awkward silence.

“Ma’am, these are also fake.”

I couldn’t help but sneer, a hint of self-mockery flickering in my eyes. 'Sean, is this what you call love? So cheap.'

Later that day, Sean informed me, “Michelle, I’ll be going on a business trip for a few months to negotiate a big deal. You just stay home and rest.”

“I’ll spend time with you when I get back. Be good,” he added with a smile.

I spent the entire day waiting in the living room, hoping Sean would explain.

Instead, I received this message: [Since that’s the case, let me surprise you as well.]

Feeling frustrated, I texted Grayson: [Same hotel, same place. Tonight, no one leaves until we’re drunk.]

That night, Grayson and I ended up drinking too much, our faces flushed from the alcohol. His palms were sweaty, but he held me tightly, treating me like a priceless treasure.

“Did you wear it?” he asked softly.

At that crucial moment, I stopped him.

Grayson’s eyes softened with tenderness as he said, “Michelle, let’s have a child.”

...

Two months later, Sean returned, pretending to have just returned from his business trip.

Little did he know that Veronica had already been sending me messages, frequently updating me on their flirtatious and affectionate escapades. I had grown immune to their attempts, but Sean was still lost in his little world.

He tried to open the door with his suitcase, only to find the lock had been changed.

He frowned deeply. “Why would the lock be changed for no reason?”

Desperate, Sean knocked on the door.

When I opened it, he smiled gently. “Baby, I missed you so much…”

But just as he was about to hug me, his smile froze. He stared blankly at my pregnant belly, his eyes turning red instantly. “Michelle, you’re pregnant... whose is it?”

I casually caressed my belly and replied, “Well, it’s not yours.”

Sean froze, his face draining of all color, pale as a ghost. “No, no way. Tell me, what is going on here?”

In agitation, he rushed toward me, knocking over his suitcase, which clattered loudly to the floor.

“Michelle, you’re joking with me, right? Or are you preparing a surprise for me?” he demanded. But before he could finish, he quickly denied himself. “I... I haven’t touched you in two months. How could you be pregnant?”