When Claire Bennett’s young male assistant mistakenly filed for divorce registration instead of a marriage license for the ninety-ninth time, I stormed into her office.

“Claire, is this what you call the value of a master’s degree from a top university?”

“If he can’t even get this right, then fire him already!”

Claire lifted her eyes from the pile of documents and glanced at my phone with an indifferent tone.

“I told you before, someone like him is never suited for grunt work.”

“If you’ve got time to argue with me, you could’ve scheduled it yourself.”

She didn’t even bother looking up as she spoke.

I bit back my words and turned to leave the office.

[ Dad, I don’t want to marry Claire anymore. ]

What Claire didn’t know was that her position as the Bennett family’s heir depended on our arranged marriage.

If the marriage fell apart, there were plenty of others in her family ready to take that seat.

My father only sighed on the other end of the line and told me to think carefully before making a decision.

But I already knew—there was no going back for me and Claire this time.

I stared at my phone: ninety-nine notifications of divorce appointments.

“It was just a mistake. Tell him to be careful next time.”

“He’s busy. It’s normal to slip up occasionally.”

“Don’t pick on a fresh graduate. I’ve already reminded him.”

Excuses. Every time.

Every mistake of Ethan Miller, every failed appointment, was covered by Claire’s indulgence.

My chest burned, like needles pricking my heart.

Just as I slipped my phone away, Claire rushed out of her office.

“You had to alarm both families over this?”

“Adrian Walker, when will you learn to control that spoiled temper of yours?”

Her brows knitted as she scolded me without pause.

I was about to retort when something tugged at my hand.

I turned, and it was none other than Ethan.

“Adrian, I swear I didn’t mean it. The page kept jumping around. I really thought I clicked marriage registration!”

“Let me reschedule it for you and Ms. Bennett. This time I promise I won’t mess up.”

He looked pitiful, his boyish face filled with guilt. Phone in hand, he began tapping away again.

Claire’s eyes brimmed with tenderness.

Ethan held out his phone with the appointment screen open, right under my nose.

“No need.”

I kept my expression cold, trying to shove the phone away. But his hand slipped, the screen flipped briefly, and in that flash, I saw it—an intimate selfie of him and Claire cheek to cheek.

I grabbed his wrist. He panicked, let go, and the phone crashed to the floor, shattering into pieces.

Everyone in the office looked over, but no one dared to speak.

Ethan froze, his lips trembling.

“Ms. Bennett, that phone… it had my mom’s last voice messages to me. She’s gone… that was all I had left of her…”

“What do I do? What do I do now?”

Claire’s heart ached; she pulled him into her arms, whispering comfort.

My fists tightened as that image of their smiling faces seared into my mind.

Claire had a phobia of cameras. She never took photos with me—not even wedding pictures. Yet with another man, she had dozens of intimate selfies.

I swallowed the rage threatening to explode. I turned to leave.

But Claire blocked me.

“You break his phone and think you can just walk away?”

“Didn’t you hear? Those were his mother’s last words to him!”

“Adrian, at least say you’re sorry, even if you don’t mean it.”

The softness in Claire’s eyes vanished, replaced only with disdain.

“Apologize? To him?”

“Do you really think he deserves it?”

I kept my face stern, but inside, my heart shattered.

Her voice turned colder, cutting like ice.

“If you don’t apologize today, then we’re not getting married!”

Gasps echoed across the office. Heads peeked out from behind cubicles, watching the chaos unfold.

It wasn’t the first time Claire had said something like this.

And every time, it was because of Ethan.

And every time, I gave in.

I had been with Claire for ten years. She was the one I’d chosen since childhood.

I had even dreamed of marrying her.

But dreams break. And now it was time for me to wake up.

“Fine,” I said.

“Then forget it.”

Her hand dropped, shock flashing briefly across her dark eyes.

Before she could say more, I turned and walked away.

“Ms. Bennett, maybe you should go after him, calm him down. I’ll be fine…”

“There’s nothing to worry about. He’ll regret it within three days,” Claire replied with indifference.

Her voice faded behind me, but I clenched my fists tighter.

This time, I wouldn’t regret it.

This time, I was already preparing to replace her.

Marriage? With her or without her—it didn’t matter.

That night, Ethan’s social feed blew up.

[ Who else lands such an amazing boss right after grad school? ]

The post was accompanied by three pictures:

Dinner at a Michelin-star restaurant,

The latest smartphone,

And a bank transfer of $200,000.

The last photo showed Claire herself, slicing steak and placing it gently onto Ethan’s plate.

I stared at them over and over, my chest hollow.

Ten years together, and Claire had never bought me a gift.

Not once had she transferred me even a dollar.

“Women should only enjoy a man’s love. Why would I ever surprise you?” she used to say.

She always believed women shouldn’t spend on men.

But for Ethan, her generosity knew no bounds.

Dinner dates? She’d sit and wait for me to do everything.

Photos? She refused every single time.

But Ethan—he got it all.

Without even trying.

My eyes burned, but I held it in.

Then—ding dong.

I opened the door. A delivery man stood outside.

“Good evening, I’m here to deliver the wedding photos.”

“I didn’t take any wedding photos.”

“Impossible. This is Claire Bennett’s residence, right?”

I nodded, and he unloaded a stack of large packages.

When he left, I opened one box, my hands trembling.

Inside were wedding photos—Claire and Ethan.

Set after set, outfit after outfit, scene after scene.

Claire beamed in every shot, her smile like a knife to my chest.

I looked up, only to see Claire at the door, holding up Ethan, drunk and leaning against her.

“Give me a hand, will you? He’s drunk.”

She ordered me around as if nothing had happened at work.

I stood still, pointing instead to the pile of boxes.

“I’ll give you five minutes. Clear all this trash out.”

“Including him.”

I gestured at Ethan, his face flushed with alcohol, clinging to Claire.

“No need to be so harsh,” she scolded.

“These photos were for Ethan’s mother. She wanted to see him married before she passed.”

“It was just to comfort her, nothing more. Why do you have to care so much?”

Ethan’s eyes turned red as he nodded.

“I only wanted my mom to leave this world happy.”

“I put my address down, but somehow it got sent to Ms. Bennett’s place.”

“Don’t be mad at her. This isn’t her fault…”

A grown man, speaking like a wounded child—making me look like the unreasonable one.

“You’ve got a master’s degree and you can’t even write down your own address correctly?”

“What’s in your head, air?”

“Fine. Since neither of you can throw this out, I will.”

I turned, grabbed scissors, and shredded the wedding posters and albums.

Frames smashed, glass cracked, paper torn to bits.

“No!”

“Adrian, I can take those with me!”

Ethan lunged barehanded, and the scissors sliced across his skin.

His sharp cry sobered Claire instantly. She shoved me hard, and I stumbled back, glass shards digging into my palm.

“Adrian Walker, what is wrong with you?”

“Smashing things, hurting people—can you not act like a man for once?”

“Ethan just lost his mother! You lost yours too! Can’t you show him some compassion?”

Her words cut deeper than glass.

My mother’s death was my greatest regret.

Back then, Claire and I were studying overseas. Restrictions kept me from flying home.

I said goodbye to my mom through a screen.

Even now, I wake at night, haunted by the ache of missing her.

And Claire knew this.

Yet she used it against me—just to defend Ethan.

Without a backward glance, she wrapped an arm around him and left.

I stared at the blood seeping from my palm, bitterness rising until it filled my chest.

“Mom, the woman you chose turned out rotten.”

“I don’t want her anymore.”

The silent living room gave me no reply.

My mother had always adored Claire.

She and Claire’s mother, Margaret Bennett, had been best friends. They arranged our engagement when we were children.

So when the Bennett family was choosing an heir, my father staked everything to support Claire in winning the role.

At just twenty, Claire stood on my family’s shoulders and secured a billion-dollar investment.

When my mother passed, Claire knelt before the video camera and swore, word by word:

“Auntie, don’t worry. I’ll make Adrian happy for the rest of his life.”

Later, when we graduated and returned from the United States, the wedding was set in motion.

But at the start of this year, Ethan began his internship at the Bennett Group.

And the story derailed—like a train switching tracks.

As her assistant, Ethan often called Claire late at night, sending messages at all hours.

Once, even while she and I were in bed, she shoved me aside to answer his call.

I grew suspicious, searched her phone, but found nothing.

The first time I met Ethan was in Claire’s passenger seat.

That was supposed to be our marriage license day.

Before we even entered the City Hall Marriage Bureau, one call from Ethan had her driving away.

I waited outside until the office closed.

Later she returned, and Ethan, seeing me, quickly slipped into the back seat.

“If it weren’t for Ms. Bennett today, my mother wouldn’t even have been admitted to the hospital.”