A bitter laugh escaped my lips.

“Do you think I have nothing better to do? I was treated here and saw you with my own eyes, rushing through the lobby in a panic.” My voice was soft, but each word was sharp and clear.

Victor’s gaze shifted to the crutches supporting me, his tone cold and devoid of the concern he had shown earlier.

“What happened to you?”

I stared at him, feeling a wave of despair. It was clear he was more worried about the woman in the examination room than my shattered state.

“You sent me to San Francisco just to hide your affair with her, didn’t you?” I accused, my voice breaking.

The truth was unavoidable. Clearly, our three years of marriage had been futile.

He even rarely touched me since my first miscarriage two years ago. We indeed shared a room but slept in separate beds.

Victor quickly covered my mouth with his hand, his voice a harsh whisper, “She isn’t a mistress. I’ve known her for over ten years.”

His words hung in the air. I suddenly recalled what his mother had told me shortly after our wedding, about his first love from high school.

So, it must be her.

But when remembering that the woman was sent to the obstetrician, could she be pregnant then?

I looked up at Victor, my voice laced with bitter realization as I asked, “So, you’ve gone back to her?”

Victor remained silent, his eyes shifting, scanning the hallway for onlookers or anyone recording our argument.

“Fine, let’s get divorce. Three years of loving you without ever having it returned is enough. After all, I’ve helped your company grow like I promise, and at least I am the second-largest shareholder now,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm raging inside me.

Victor’s eyes narrowed. He mocked me, “Don’t fool yourself. When we divorce, everything you have will go back to my family.”

Suddenly, the doctor called his name, and just as he turned to go, Victor leaned in close, his words a cruel whisper, “By the way, I’m a father now. Get our divorce sorted, and I’ll sign it as soon as I get home.”

Then, he walked into the room, leaving me standing there, stunned and alone.

Had he married me only to fulfill some twisted plan?

*

I got into the car that the butler had sent for me, my mind drifting back to the early days, back when everything was so different.

Victor and I first crossed paths at MIT University. He was my senior, someone I admired from a distance, a reliable mentor figure.

But my feelings for him changed during my internship at Preston’s company. By then, Victor had already taken on the role of Vice President while continuing his studies. He was driven, charismatic, and every bit the man who could lead a company.

Months went by, and I kept my feelings for him hidden, unsure if he saw me as anything more than a work colleague.

Then, one day, everything changed. Victor’s parents approached me first.

I remember the moment vividly. The secretary of Victor's father came to my desk and asked, “Are you Earlene, the intern from the Marketing Team?”

“Yes, I am,” I replied, my heart pounding.

I feared I had done something wrong, but I couldn’t think of any mistakes. My work had always been praised; in fact, many higher-ups had hinted at offering me a permanent position after graduation.

The secretary then said, “President Preston requests your presence in his office.”

I was filled with anxiety and curiosity. What could they possibly want with me?

Then, when I stepped into the office, I was surprised to see President Preston, his wife, and Victor all waiting for me.

“Here she is, our future daughter-in-law,” President Preston greeted me with a broad smile.

I froze, confusion written all over my face. ‘Daughter-in-law? What could he possibly mean by that?’ I wondered.

As the conversation unfolded, it became clear. They believed I was the perfect match for their son, a woman who could not only support him but also help build their family’s empire. Victor seemed as surprised as I was, but he remained silent, his expression unreadable.

But Victor’s parents were determined to have me as their daughter-in-law. They saw in me a valuable asset, someone who could help secure the future of the Preston Group.

They didn’t want Victor marrying into another wealthy family after all, because they didn’t want to share their precious shares. They wanted someone like me, an intelligent, hardworking woman who had proven her loyalty to the company.

As a result, we married after I graduated from MIT.

But there were conditions. Until we had a child, our marriage was to be kept under wraps; only a handful of people within the company knew that I was Victor’s wife.

Despite the secrecy, I was happy. I loved Victor, and being his wife was enough for me. I dedicated myself to the company, to him, hoping that, in time, he would come to love me too.

At first, our marriage was awkward. Victor was distant, cold.

However, when I got pregnant, things started to change. He began to show a side of him I hadn’t seen before, a tenderness, a softness. Yet, I always sensed that his newfound affection wasn’t entirely for me.

But then I lost the baby in the fourth month, resulting the little warmth he had shown vanished entirely. He became colder, more distant. His parents expressed their regrets, but Victor’s reaction was muted, almost indifferent.

As a result, I buried myself in work, trying to ignore the pain of his coldness and the emptiness inside me.

However, on our third wedding anniversary, driven by desperation, I decided to take a bold step. I slipped a stimulant into his drink, hoping it would break down the walls between us.

As the effects of the drink began to take hold, Victor's expression darkened. He knew something was off, especially when my hands began to wander across his body.

“What did you do?” he asked, his voice tight with anger.

I leaned closer, my lips brushing against his skin.

“I’m just fulfilling my duties as your wife,” I whispered, my voice heavy with longing.

“How dare you!” he growled, his muscles tensing.

But the drink had dulled his resistance, and soon his desire took over. As his breathing grew heavier, he gave in, his hands roaming my body with a hunger I had never felt from him for almost two years.

“Is this what you want?” he said between ragged breaths, his tone a mix of anger and desire.

I nodded.

“Fine. But don’t blame me if I’m rough.”

For a moment, I felt a connection, however forced, as if this was how it was supposed to be.

But as the effects of the stimulant began to wear off an hour later, Victor abruptly pushed me away.

“You’re disgusting, Earlene!” he spat, his voice filled with revulsion.

Tears welled up in my eyes. “Is it so disgusting to want my own husband?” I asked, my voice trembling with pain.

“Yes,” he said without hesitation, his eyes cold and unyielding.

The brief moments of closeness we had shared were nothing more than a cruel illusion, a result of the drug, not any real affection.

“You’re cruel, Victor!” I cried out, my heart shattering.

He quickly gathered his clothes, putting them on hastily. “Have you forgotten how you became Mrs. Preston?” he asked, his tone sharp.

I would never forget. I was chosen for this role, not out of love, but out of a calculated decision to secure an heir and the future of the company. That was why, the harsh reality of my situation was clearer than ever at that moment.

I chuckled softly, the sound bitter, “No, I haven’t forgotten. But your parents want a grandchild too, don’t they?”

My face flushed with anger. If it hadn’t been for the forced smile on my lips, I might have looked like a ghost escaped from hell.

“I can still give them a grandchild, even if it’s not from you,” he said.

Those words haunted me so suddenly. Only then did I understand what he meant back then.

After that night, I indeed was success on getting pregnant. But under Victor’s coldness and my chaos mental health condition, I lost the baby again in my seven weeks pregnancy.

“This can’t go on,” I whispered to myself, my resolve hardening.

Finally, we had arrived at Preston Manor. The butler who had picked me up opened the car door and said, “Mrs. Preston, we’ve arrived. Do you need help getting out?”

“No, thank you,” I replied, my voice firm.

After getting out of the car, I said again, “Thank you for taking care of me all this time.”

Then, I made my way to the elevator and headed to my room. I opened the drawer containing the divorce papers I had prepared a few days after my miscarriage.

Back then, I was hesitant, clinging to the hope that I could win Victor's love back. But then, all of my doubts had vanished. I was done dedicating myself to the Preston family.

I signed the divorce papers with a steady hand, then placed them on Victor’s desk in the study. After packing my things, I took a taxi back to my family’s manor.

When I arrived, my mother was the first to greet me. She burst into tears as soon as she saw my condition.

“Oh my God, Earlene. I was about to visit you when I saw the news about the bridge collapsed accident on TV,” she cried.

I could not help crying when meeting my mother. All of the depression I had buried for three years had been poured so suddenly.

“Sweetheart, you must feel scared today. Come inside, I’ll call the doctor and nurse to take care of you,” my mother said again.

In the evening, my father and brother came home from the office to see me. My father was still the President of Grant Group, while my brother, Gavin, was the CEO of Grant City Mall, a branch of our family's business empire.

Our family had been billionaires since my great-grandfather’s time, while Preston family had only risen to prominence during his father's leadership.

That was one of the reasons my family had opposed my marriage to Victor from the start. But I had ignored their warnings, believing in my choice.

Gavin Grant, my older brother, was the first to mock me, “So, this is the result of your sincere love, sister?”

I snorted in annoyance, but my mother scolded him, “Don’t tease your sister. It’s a miracle she survived the accident and chose to come back home.”

My father, ever the stern figure, said in his usual firm tone, “Leave us alone.”

My mother, who had been holding my hand and listening to my grievances, gently let go. Then, she whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll scold your father twice as much as he scolds you, okay?”

I nodded, reassuring her not to worry. I was ready for whatever consequences awaited me.

When it was just my father and me, he spoke directly. “Are you two officially divorced?”

I replied, “Not yet, but I have signed the papers, and he has agreed.”

My father sighed, whether in relief or exasperation, I couldn’t tell. After a long silence, he finally said, “Rest until you’re fully recovered, not just your body, but your mind as well.”

He turned to leave the room, but I stopped him.

“Dad, I am sorry for my mistakes. From now on, I will do everything as you say.”

He paused, then turned back to me with a smirk. “I heard from Gavin that you decided to cut off all cooperation between Grant and Preston, including removing the Preston brand from our Grant City Mall. Is that true?” he asked.

I nodded and explained, “Yes. After all, it was me who handled all those deals over the past three years.”

“You know it won’t be easy, right? So, once you’re recovered, work under your brother and manage everything properly. As for the space left by Preston, replace it with a better brand.

“Oh, you don’t forget about your own brand that you’ve been developing for the past five years, do you? Is it good enough to compete with Preston?”

My father’s words were rapid-fire, making my already dizzy head spin even more.

“You’re giving me a lot of work, Dad,” I complained, my tone playful despite my fatigue.

He sneered, “If you can’t handle it, you could always go back to Preston.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll start tomorrow,” I relented.

“In this condition?” my father asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

It seemed he had forgotten just how capable his daughter was after three years apart.

I replied confidently, “The only thing that injured is my legs, but I believe it will be fine in few days. My hands can still move, and my brain is still working just fine. So, don’t worry about it.”

*

The next day, I decided to make my departure from Preston official. I sent my resignation letter via email to the HR department, using my Preston staff email.

Then, using my Grant Group email, I sent a file contained the cancelation cooperation agreement with Preston, citing the failure to meet sales targets.

I knew every weakness Preston had. After all, I had been the one handling their external partnerships for the past three years.

I couldn’t help but imagine the look on Victor’s face when he discovered what I had done. He could easily replace me as his wife, but finding someone to replace my role in the company would not be so simple.

Sure enough, the day after, Victor called me. As soon as I answered, his angry voice boomed through the phone, “I agreed to the divorce, but I won’t accept your resignation. You need to finish your business at the office first.”