Tristan's POV

"It's already the fifth time Ms. Fowler has asked to meet and talk things over this week. Do you still refuse to meet her, Tristan?" Delilah asked.

I accepted the glass of warm water from Delilah and swallowed the pills in one gulp.

"Why would I meet her? Do I have to watch her size me up like she's evaluating a financial report or listen to her 'analyze' our bullshit marriage in the tone of a project summary?

"Do I then have to cooperate with her by waiting for her to condescendingly 'handle' our divorce agreement? Willa's AI-like, business-only attitude sickens me to the core.

"I won't subject myself to that kind of insult again, Delilah."

I set the glass aside, took a deep breath, and continued, "In any case, I can't skip the cocktail party happening on Friday. I'll sign the divorce agreement, end the relationship, and finish it all in one go.

"We'll have nothing more to do with one another from then on. In the end, Willa can go back to being the CEO of her company, and I'll be the CEO of my own company."

I began to feel drowsy as the sunlight bathed me in warmth.

I took a bank card out of my bag just as Delilah was about to close the door and said, "I have five million dollars here—no PIN is needed."

Delilah was momentarily stunned as she looked at the closed door. She chuckled softly and whispered to herself, "You're actually really treating me like a sugar baby, huh?"

…

It was finally the day of the cocktail party, and the banquet hall was thick with the mingling scents of champagne and perfume.

It was my first appearance after the divorce announcement, so I held a glass of champagne and chatted briefly with various long-time family acquaintances and elders from my social circle.

Willa made her way through the crowd and came up directly to me. She spoke in a gentler tone than usual, saying, "I'd like to have a word with you, Tristan."

I lifted my gaze, noting that the roles were now reversed—I was now the one scrutinizing her like a mere commodity. "Is something the matter, Ms. Fowler?"

Willa appeared taken aback by my formal address. She fell silent for a moment before Taylor, who was behind her, passed her a velvet box.

She handed me the box containing the latest watch from Shely and said, "I've been neglecting you before this, Tristan."

She spoke awkwardly, obviously out of her element when it came to apologies or asking for a second chance. "I've prepared this gift for you. As for the divorce, maybe we could reconsider…"

I observed Willa, unable to tell what was going on in her mind. I mused that perhaps she didn't want to lose such an ideal "marriage partner" for the sake of her business empire.

I was definitely getting a divorce, but from the perspective of business cooperation, even with a divorce, there was no need to make things too tense.

I simply thought that there was no reason to let my grudge against her interfere with financial interests.

I was in the midst of my hesitation when a crisp voice broke through—filled with just the right amount of shock and familiarity. "I didn't realize this watch was intended for Tristan, Willa. If I had known, I would have let Tristan choose first."

Simon approached in his wheelchair, looking at the watch with a mix of longing and coquettishness. He was already wearing a different piece from the same collection.

"I mentioned recently that the design was too understated for my taste, but looking at it now, I find that it's actually quite lovely. I'm actually quite reluctant to let it go now."

He reached out and lightly tugged at Willa's sleeve while saying that.

Willa furrowed her brow slightly. She glanced at me, then at Simon in his wheelchair.

She said in her usual matter-of-fact tone, as if she were coordinating a trivial matter, "It seems like Simon wants this watch, Tristan.

"I have an ongoing cooperation with Jensen Group, so you should let him have it first. I'll have Taylor get you another one in whatever style you prefer—"

I sneered in response, though my expression remained calm. "I appreciate the thought, but I'm not in the habit of fighting for leftovers that someone else didn't want, Ms. Fowler."

I cast a pointed glance at Willa, my tone dismissive and haughty while adding, "It also makes no sense to take back a gift that has been given, Ms. Fowler. How could you not know such basic rules after being in the business world for so long?

"You're clearly trying to humiliate me, so I don't think we have anything more to talk about, Ms. Fowler."

I deliberately raised my voice so that everyone present could hear me clearly. "I'll be notifying my lawyer to choose a good day to officially file for the divorce, Ms. Fowler."

I "accidentally" let go of the champagne glass in my hand, causing it to shatter at Willa's feet with a sharp crack and splattering her with the drink.

"I'm sorry. I lost my grip. It's difficult to keep a steady hand when faced with someone so nauseating, after all."

Tristan's POV

I turned to leave and encountered a waiter carrying a tray of drinks.

I was just about to grab another glass of champagne when someone caught my hand in midair and handed me a glass of warm water.

Delilah looked at me with a reproachful expression, saying, "You're not allowed to have alcohol anymore. Have some warm water instead."

I smiled and lightly stroked her cheek in a flirtatious manner. "I'll do whatever you say, Delilah."

I heard a low gasp coming from behind me, followed by Simon's dramatic exclamation. "W-What's the meaning of this, Tristan?"

I looked over my shoulder with a scowl, finding that Simon's constant presence was becoming relentless and utterly irritating.

Willa finally showed a rare spark of emotion, her face flushed with a hint of rage. "We're not divorced yet, Tristan."

"It'll happen soon if you're willing to sign the divorce agreement," I stated flatly, having absolutely no patience left to deal with either of them.

I was just about to take Delilah by the arm and leave when Simon blocked my path.

He wheeled over with two glasses of champagne, looking entirely insincere as he apologized. "I'm sorry for acting so willfully earlier, Tristan. I'd like to offer you this toast as an apology.

"Also, to show my sincerity, Jensen Group is willing to concede another 5% on the resort project."

Willa, standing nearby, also took the rare step of offering a truce and said, "It was wrong of me to humiliate you in public, Tristan. I'll agree to a 70-30 profit split on the previous project if you forgive Simon. I'll take 30, while you take 70."

I sneered inwardly at their offers. I weighed the situation briefly and chose not to let personal feelings get in the way of profit.

I was going to divorce Willa anyway, so leaving without taking what I could would only mean losing out.

Delilah held down my hand, whispering a reminder, "You haven't recovered from your injuries yet, so you shouldn't drink for this bit of money—"

I couldn't help but lift my brow slightly, unable to hide my surprise at Delilah's viewpoint. "Is 200 million dollars considered a bit of money to you?"

I took a courtesy sip before Delilah could even finish her sentence, noting an unusual bitter taste in the champagne.

I was just about to speak when a massive coughing fit seized me, and my body began to shake uncontrollably.

I groaned in pain. Immediately after, bright red blood actually seeped out from between my fingers, dripping to the floor and creating a startling scene.

In that instant, everyone looked at me in shock—even Simon, who had offered me the glass, was scared out of his wits.

"How could this happen?" Willa sounded completely stunned. She instinctively reached out to support my limp body as it slumped toward the floor.

Delilah, however, beat her to it and caught me. She no longer had that carefree smile on her face as she bellowed, "Hurry up and call for an ambulance!"

I was in so much pain that I was past the point of being able to say anything and could only huddle against Delilah as fresh blood flowed continuously from my mouth and stained her dress.

I lost all sense of awareness, succumbing to a deep state of unconsciousness.

…

Willa's POV

In the hallway outside the ER, Delilah moved like a raging beast as she seized me by the collar and slammed me hard against the cold wall with a muffled thud.

She slapped me and bellowed, "What the fuck did you actually do to Tristan, Willa? What did you put in that drink?

"Do you have any idea that he almost died not long ago? How could you target someone who is still recovering from a previous injury?"

My head snapped to the side from the slap, blood dripping from the corner of my mouth.

I was more shaken and frantic than ever before as I yelled, "You'd better let go of me this instant! Simon was the one who prepared those drinks! I—hold on.

"What are you talking about? What injuries is he still dealing with?"

Delilah slapped me again, snarling through gritted teeth, "You're actually acting all innocent here, huh? Tristan was involved in a high-speed collision that sent his car flipping off the highway when you brought Simon home!

"I checked his call logs and saw that he actually called you 15 times, looking for help! You actually ignored every single one of them, Willa!"

She pointed toward the firmly closed ER doors, her voice trembling with despair while saying, "Did you know that because he lost too much blood and wasn't treated in time, they issued three critical condition notices?

"His heart, lungs, liver, and kidneys were all ruptured and damaged, so surviving was a miracle in itself! How could you possibly target him after all that, Willa?"

My pupils constricted sharply as my vision blurred. I felt my blood run cold as I stammered, "W-What car accident? What do you mean by critical condition? W-What are you talking about?"