Chapter 1

Tonight was the night I, Zara Yaxley, got to sleep with my husband, Steve Griffin, every once in a month.

I let out a soft gasp by accident.

Steve's cold eyes hadn't shown any trace of desire in a long time.

"Zara, you broke the rules," he said flatly before pulling on a bathrobe and walking toward the bathroom.

Left alone on the bed, I shut my eyes in humiliation.

Everything had changed three years ago after our first child died at birth.

Back then, under the excuse of grieving for our deceased child, Steve built a private chapel inside our villa. Incense burned in there all year round in devotion.

He said that a pious man shouldn't let himself indulge in fleshly pleasures. So, we could only sleep together once a month at most.

On top of that, I wasn't allowed to make any improper sounds when we made love. The reason Steve gave was that it would be blasphemous and unholy.

Even though I was only 25 and had needs of intimacy, I could do nothing but comply with what he had decided upon.

...

Steve left our home in the middle of the night.

Not long after, my phone rang. I got a call from my best friend, Juliet Simpson.

Juliet sounded frantic as she said, "Zara, go check the trending searches right now! The guy who is supposedly Isabel Stone's sugar daddy looks like Steve!"

The moment I clicked into the trending topic, my head buzzed and went blank.

The article wrote, "Breaking news! Rising star Isabel Stone is suspected of climbing the ranks with the backing of a mysterious patron! His identity is yet to be revealed!"

The photo was just a blurry silhouette shot from behind. But how could I not recognize my own husband? That right hand that always held a string of rosary beads was now wrapped around Isabel's slim waist as they entered a hotel together.

At the same time, two anonymous emails popped up on my phone. A series of high-resolution photos came into view.

In the first, Steve was kneeling on one knee. In his arms, he was holding a little girl with rosy cheeks. She looked like a doll in her fluffy dress. Looping her arms around his neck, she kissed his cheek.

In the second, Isabel reached out to brush the dust off his shoulder. Steve didn't dodge her touch with the icy indifference he used on me. Instead, he let her do as she pleased with a faint smile on his face.

...

Dozens of photos later, I finally understood why Steve had grown colder and colder toward me over the past three years.

It probably wasn't because he was determined to be a pious man.

It was because he was cheating.

My fingers dug into my palms as I took slow, steady breaths. I forced myself to calm down before opening the second email.

It contained only one line, "Mrs. Griffin, do you want this to be exposed or will you buy it from me for ten million dollars?"

I responded, "I'll buy it."

After replying to the email, I emptied every cent in my bank account to purchase the photos that could have ruined my husband and his mistress.

Ironically, that money had originally been Steve's wedding gift to me when we got married.

Now, it was being used to buy proof of his betrayal.

I stared again and again at the little girl in the photos. If our child hadn't died, she would be about this age now.

But I had never even seen our baby's face. She had turned into nothing more than a handful of ashes stored away in a small box.

Back then, I'd been drowning in grief.

All I got in return was one casual remark from Steve. "We can always have another child."

Now, I knew the truth. There wouldn't be another child.

Our 20 years as childhood sweethearts, along with his solemn vows when he proposed, were now reduced to nothing.

After buying out the photos, I called Juliet and asked, "Do you know any lawyers? I want a divorce."

There was no point holding on to a filthy, cheating man.

Juliet made a few inquiries and called me back later.

The lawyer drafted a divorce agreement swiftly. But since I didn't have complete information about Steve's assets, we couldn't proceed with the division of assets just yet.

Nevertheless, I said, "That's fine. Send me the agreement first. I'll negotiate the asset division with him slowly."

Those photos might have cost ten million dollars, but the reputation of the CEO of Griffin Group was worth far more than that. As long as I held this ace up my sleeve, I had nothing to fear when negotiating our asset division.

I put the printed divorce papers on the coffee table and dialed Steve's number.

The call connected quickly.

"Do you need something, Ms. Yaxley? Steve's busy looking after the child right now," a sweet female voice answered politely. Her sugary tone felt like a steel spike driven straight into my eardrum.

So Isabel knew about me all along.

I had wondered earlier if Steve had pretended to be single and deceived her. But it turned out she knew exactly what she was doing. She had knowingly become the other woman.

I refused to waste my time and emotion on a homewrecker.

So, I said coldly, "Put Steve on the phone."

"I'm sorry. The child is clinging to him, so he doesn't have time right now. If there's anything you need, you can tell me. I'll pass it along," Isabel said patiently in a gentle voice.

As soon as her words fell, a little girl's voice came through the phone. "Daddy, will I still see you when I wake up tomorrow morning? You always disappear for no reason."

Steve answered tenderly, coaxing her, "Of course. I promise I'll still be here tomorrow morning."

I had a tight feeling in my chest. How long had it been since he had spoken to me in that tone?

"Ms. Yaxley? Is there anything else? If there isn't, we need to get ready for bed now," Isabel said.

She sounded polite and courteous, but each word she spoke pricked at my heart painfully.

I responded icily, "There is something. Tell Steve to come back and sign the divorce papers."

Chapter 2

The other end of the line went silent at once. I couldn't tell whether Isabel was too shocked or simply too excited to speak.

After all, only if I divorced Steve would she be able to take my place.

I ended the call and sat in front of the coffee table, waiting quietly for Steve to come home.

I waited the entire night, but Steve never came back.

Instead, his assistant, Lily Jobb, showed up.

The moment she stepped into the villa, I sensed her hostility toward me.

She had been working as Steve's assistant for three years now. I'd long felt that her feelings for him were anything but professional.

Seeing me pale and exhausted after a sleepless night, she looked almost pleased.

With her chin lifted, she spoke arrogantly. "Mr. Griffin has kept you around for nearly four years. Now that Ms. Stone is about to become Mrs. Griffin, you must be feeling pretty miserable, huh?"

What did she mean by Steve was keeping me around? I almost laughed out loud.

Well, Steve and I had kept our marriage under wraps extremely well.

Four years ago, every elder in the Griffin family had fiercely opposed my marriage to him because of my lowly background. In the end, I had been the one who compromised by agreeing to register the marriage but skipping the wedding ceremony.

Aside from our closest circle, no one knew we were married.

Back then, Steve's eyes had been full of guilt and tenderness. He stroked my hair and apologized to me for putting me through all this. He had sworn to me that once he secured his position at Griffin Group, he would give me a grand and spectacular wedding.

But the truth was, he had already secured the position of CEO long ago. Still, that wedding had yet to happen.

As a result, Lily believed I was nothing more than a kept woman.

She looked down at me and continued, "Mr. Griffin asked me to investigate the rumors. It turns out that yesterday's article about Ms. Stone came from your company. As the Entertainment Editor-in-Chief, there's no way you didn't know about it."

If someone wanted to accuse another of something, they would always find a reason.

Steve cheated on me but never offered a single word of explanation. And now, the first thing he did was pin the blame on me.

With an expressionless face, I said, "It wasn't me."

Lily let out a cold snort. "The evidence is right here. You should just admit it and part on good terms with Mr. Griffin. Don't wait until you're kicked out unceremoniously. That would be embarrassing."

The moment she finished speaking, I shot up from the couch and slapped her across the face.

Lily froze and clutched her cheek while staring back at me in disbelief.

I tossed the divorce agreement onto the table in front of her and turned around. "What happens between Mr. Griffin and me is none of your business. Get out."

When she saw the divorce papers, her pupils visibly contracted as she whispered, "Y-You're married to Mr. Griffin?"

But then she suddenly remembered that Steve was with Isabel now.

Gritting her teeth, she forced out a cold smile. "Mr. Griffin said I have full authority in handling this. If you refuse to admit that it was you who leaked the news, go kneel before Jesus and reflect behind closed doors. You can get up when you come to your senses. Ms. Stone is still crying right now, you know?"

I was so exasperated that I nearly laughed.

Steve cheated on me, yet I was the one who had to reflect. This was utterly ridiculous.

Lily continued lightly, "You don't have to go. But don't forget that the cardiopulmonary support device your comatose mother uses was developed by Griffin Group. It won't be officially released for another month. Mr. Griffin can have it shut down at any time.

"If he does that, what awaits your mother is death."

Steve was far crueler than I had imagined. He knew perfectly well that my mother, Leah Dreyfus, was my only blood relative left in this world.

In the end, I bent my knees and knelt on the cold floor.

The faint scent of ambergris incense filled the private chapel. It was the same scent that always clung to Steve himself. It enveloped me from every direction.

Never had I been clearer than I was at that moment that I had to divorce Steve.

My housekeeper, Maria Lawson, panicked and pleaded on my behalf when she saw me kneeling.

"Ms. Jobb, Mrs. Griffin can't kneel! She has weak knees! This will do her harm!" she cried.

Three years ago, after our child died, Steve had offered only a few lukewarm words of comfort before continuing to fly all over the world. He claimed it was for work.

What he didn't know was that on countless nights, I knelt alone in this very private chapel, asking the heavens whether my child could be returned to me. I should have been resting in bed after childbirth. Instead, I knelt here day after day, unable to eat or sleep.

That was when the illness took root. During a long spell of rainy weather, I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis.

Even the doctor was puzzled. He wondered how someone so young could have this condition. With a woeful sigh, he informed me that it was irreversible and that I would have to manage the pain with medication on rainy days.

Maria knew about this, but Steve didn't.

When her pleas failed, Maria couldn't take it anymore. "I'll call Mr. Griffin right now!"

Gritting my teeth and enduring the searing pain in my knees, I ordered, "Maria, don't call Steve."

I hadn't told him about my condition before because I didn't want him to suffer with me. But now, I thought there was simply no need because he wouldn't even feel bad for me.

Maria didn't listen and insisted on dialing his number.

But once again, it wasn't Steve who answered.

From the other end came a child's soft, innocent voice. "Who is it? Daddy's shopping for clothes with Mommy right now!"

I smiled self-deprecatingly.

At some point, I didn't know when, Steve had changed his phone password and almost never let me touch it. I thought it was because he valued his privacy. But then, his mistress and his daughter could use his phone freely. I was the only one who couldn't.

Maria froze. She hurriedly looked at the phone screen and confirmed that she hadn't dialed the wrong number.

When she saw my expression, she instantly understood what was happening. She quickly ended the call.

I smiled faintly at that sight.

It wasn't until blood seeped from my knees that Lily finally let out a cold laugh and turned to leave.

As she walked out, she said in a warning tone, "The way you atoned for your mistake is acceptable. I won't report this to Mr. Griffin."

After she left, Maria hurried over and helped me back to my room. Every step I took made me gasp involuntarily as pain coursed through me.

Feeling indignant on my behalf, Maria choked up as she spoke. "Mr. Griffin has gone too far! You knelt there for hours, and he was out there shopping with another woman. And that little girl. She…"

She couldn't bring herself to finish her sentence. All she could do was look at me with deep worry.

I smiled weakly and said, "Please get me the first aid kit, Maria."

Not long after, I heard familiar footsteps outside the door.

Steve was back. His conversation with Maria reached my ears as well.

"What do you need the first aid kit for?" he asked.

"Mrs. Griffin knelt in the chapel all night. Her knees are completely torn up," Maria replied.

"Has she always been so delicate?" he said coolly.

The tone made it clear. He thought Maria and I were putting on an act to gain sympathy.

Summoning her courage, Maria replied, "Ms. Jobb bullied her and kicked away the cushion. Mrs. Griffin knelt on the cold, hard floor for hours."

Steve's voice turned icy. "Who told her to do that?"

Chapter 3

"Wasn't it you?" Maria blurted.

As her words fell, Steve seemed to have made a phone call.

His voice was cold and detached, and the tone in which he spoke was of someone accustomed to giving orders that were not meant to be questioned.

He said, "Lily, go settle with your pay with the finance department tomorrow. Starting tomorrow, you don't need to come to Griffin Group anymore."

Then, he carried the first aid kit with him and walked into my room. His face was expressionless as he went straight to the bed and sat down. He took hold of my ankle and lifted my calf onto his knee.

"It'll hurt a bit. Bear with it," he reminded.

His eyes lingered time and again on the dried blood on my knees. He took out an iodine swab and gently disinfected the wounds.

If it weren't for the photos that showed those scenes that had utterly shattered my expectations of him, his focused expression might have made me think he had returned to the Steve from long ago. I would have thought he was the Steve who had loved me.

But just the night before, he had been with Isabel the whole time.

No, hold on. Over the past three years, they had probably been together on the countless nights when Steve claimed to be away on business.

A wave of nausea rose in me. I quickly pulled my leg back and scooted away from him. I took the cotton swab from his hand to disinfect my knees myself.

The sharp, unmistakable pain from the wounds was a reminder that there was no turning back for Steve and me.

I didn't look at him.

Lowering my head, I taped gauze over my knees and said quietly, "Steve, let's get a divorce."

This was a decision I had made after pondering it all night. To me, this separation felt like tearing flesh from bone. But to him, it didn't seem to amount to anything because there wasn't even a flicker of surprise on his face.

His strikingly handsome face remained stoic as he asked, "Divorce? Can you really go through with it?"

After all, I had known him since I was five. I had known him ever since the Yaxley family adopted me. From the day I met him, I had followed him everywhere. I had eyes only for him since then.

He looked at me with disdain. "Saying things like this once or twice out of spite is one thing. What will you do if I actually agree next time?"

Suppressing the sorrow welling up in me, I asked sarcastically, "You already have a child with another woman. What makes you think I'd still willingly stay with you?"

His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied me. "Have you found out?"

I smiled bitterly, and my voice took on a sobbing edge as I murmured, "She looks about three. That means your daughter was born not long after our child died. Am I right?"

A trace of an indecipherable emotion flickered across his stern face. He neither admitted nor denied it.

The silence in the room was suffocating.

After a long while, he frowned and asked, "Do you care about Dorothy's existence that much?"

So that little girl's name was Dorothy.

In an exhausted voice, I replied, "If her existence is just to satisfy your desire to be a father, then maybe I wouldn't mind."

Suddenly, he stepped closer and braced both hands on either side of me, trapping me against the bed. I pushed at him with all my strength. But in my current state, I barely had any energy at all. I couldn't make him budge even a little.

He leaned in closer, his cool voice taking on a strange, seductive undertone as it brushed against my ear. "Compared to anyone else, I still like you more."

My face flushed instantly.

Before his obsession with being a pious man set in, we had been like any normal couple. Our lovemaking had been passionate and intense.

Being reminded of those memories now made me want to bite my tongue off in shame.

Steve watched my reddened face with apparent satisfaction. He smirked and asked, "Did you recall something?"

My cheeks felt like they were on fire.

But as I looked at his face that was so familiar yet so alien, I suddenly felt a sense of release.

In an unexpectedly slow and calm voice, I said, "Steve, we can't go back. No matter what we had before, nothing will ever happen between us again from now on."

A dark look flickered across his handsome features. He straightened up, no longer pinning me in place.

Then, he said coolly from above, "Just focus on being Mrs. Griffin. Playing hard to get won't work on me."

I had reached my limit. I was ready to pull out the photos I had bought last night for ten million dollars and negotiate with him right away. If I did that, he would understand how determined I was to divorce him.

"Steve, sign the divorce papers, and let's part on good terms. Otherwise, I'll—"

Before I could finish, his phone rang.

He answered in a relatively amicable tone, "Yes, I'm at home. Okay."

After hanging up, he looked at me and informed, "Your parents are coming over."

The words I had been about to say were lodged in my throat.

By "parents", Steve meant my adoptive parents. They treated me like I was their daughter throughout the years. It wouldn't be too late to talk about divorce after they left.

Otherwise, it would be unbearably awkward if they arrived while we were in the middle of such a difficult discussion.

Seeing that I had fallen silent, Steve went to the private without another word and left me to my devices. I went to the kitchen and helped Maria prepare dinner.

...

Later that evening, my adoptive parents, Asher Yaxley and Helen Russell, came to the villa.

"You're here, Dad and Mom! Dinner's ready. Come sit down," I greeted.

Forcing a smile, I pretended nothing was wrong.

Seeing me limp, Mom asked with concern, "What happened to your leg?"

Afraid they would find out, I said lightly, "I tripped by accident."

Dad said in a doting tone, "You've always been so careless. You're a grown-up now, but you still fall down while walking. Did you go to the hospital?"

"Yes. The doctor said it's nothing." I quickly brushed it off.

Mom looked around and asked, "Where's Steve?"

At the mention of his name, my expression stiffened slightly. "He's in the chapel. I'll go call him."

Dad hurriedly stopped me and said in a cautious tone, "No need. We'll just wait."

I heard the humility in his voice and felt a little sad.

The Yaxley and the Griffin families had been close friends for years. Unfortunately, my brother, Brandon Yaxley, wasn't cut out for business. The Yaxley family's fortunes had declined steadily. In recent years, they were no longer a part of Hevark's elite circles.

After Steve took over the Griffin family, Griffin Group expanded aggressively. It acquired one company after another, so its business empire kept growing.

If it weren't for Griffin Group's support all this time, Yaxley Group would've been devoured by its competitors long ago.

That was why my parents' attitude toward Steve had grown increasingly deferential. In the past, they could still command some respect as his in-laws. But now, they were reduced to the point of being subservient to ask for favors.

I must have angered Steve that day. Dad and Mom had been here for nearly two hours. Even after I had asked Maria to notify him that they were waiting, he still didn't come out of the chapel.

He was deliberately making them wait.

Mom seemed to sense something was off.

She asked worriedly, "Zara, I saw the news yesterday. It said Isabel has a backer. There wasn't a clear photo, but the silhouette looked a bit like Steve. It's not him, is it?"

My heart skipped a beat. My eyes stung, and tears nearly slid down my cheeks.

Just then, Maria hurried in and said, "Mr. Griffin is here!"

Chapter 4

Steve's arrival cut off whatever Mom had been about to say.

He was still as courteous as ever. However, he exuded that innate sense of superiority.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Asher and Helen," he greeted.

I let out a quiet sigh of relief. At least he hadn't made my parents feel embarrassed or made things awkward for them.

Mom quickly replied, "Oh no. We just got here. We were chatting with Zara, so we didn't wait long at all."

Dad added, "If you still have things to do, go on and attend to them. We can just talk here."

I lowered my head and said, "Come on, Mom. Let's eat first."

At the dining table, Steve sat in the seat of honor.

My parents and I sat beside him.

Dad hesitated, stealing cautious glances at Steve's expression. He began carefully, "Steve, there's something I'd like to ask of you…"

His tone was so humble that it was almost painful to hear.

Steve replied evenly, "I know the Yaxley Group has run into some difficulties recently. You don't need to worry about the funding. Did you bring the contract?"

"Yes, yes! I did," Dad answered quickly.

Steve said, "I'll sign it later and have Zara mail it back to you tomorrow. The funds will be transferred to Yaxley Group no later than Friday."

With just one sentence, he made both my parents visibly relax. Relief spread across their faces as they thanked him again and again.

"Zara is my wife. If the Yaxley family is in trouble, it's only right that I help," Steve responded.

That single remark completely dispelled Mom's earlier doubts. She had always been straightforward and was never one to beat around the bush.

Smiling brightly, she said, "Seeing you and Zara doing so well puts my mind at ease. I saw the news yesterday about the man backing Isabel. There wasn't a clear photo, but I thought the silhouette looked a bit like you. I worried so much that I didn't sleep all night!"

As her words fell, both Steve and I stiffened slightly. We steered the conversation elsewhere.

After my parents left, I slipped the prepared divorce agreement into the back of the contract and took it with me to the study.

...

In the study, Steve was seated at his desk, handling work emails on his computer. The warm yellow light outlined his sharp, cool features with striking clarity. I used to love this version of him. He looked focused, composed, and serious as he worked.

I let out a soft sigh and walked over with the contract. "This is the contract my dad asked me to hand to you. Could you sign it?"

He glanced at me. When he saw that I was no longer kicking up a fuss, he smiled faintly.

"So you do know when to stop," he remarked.

I replied, "Thank you for agreeing to help just now."

I swallowed the bitter sadness I felt inside and thanked him.

Before signing, Steve added casually, "Oh, there's something else I should tell you. There's been too much media attention lately. I'm planning to bring Isabel and Dorothy to live here. Halcon Bay is the most private neighborhood in all of Hevark. It'll be safer for them."

My breath caught, and I felt suffocated.

How could I have forgotten that Steve was a shrewd businessman? Every favor he gave came with a price or an exchange of equal value. He hadn't helped the Yaxley family for free.

I forced out a single word in response. "Okay."

He continued, "I'd like Dorothy and Isabel to stay in the master bedroom. After all, we want to give Dorothy a sense of—"

"That's enough. You don't need to explain. I understand. I'll move to the guest room. You can have the master bedroom." I cut him off before he could finish.

Steve himself no longer belonged to me. Would I still care about a bedroom?

After agreeing to his conditions, I handed him the contract. "Can you sign it now? My dad needs it urgently."

Steve said nothing and began signing.

The farther he went toward the back of the document, the more tense I became. At the very last page was the divorce agreement I had prepared in advance.

Chapter 5

Fortunately, Steve still trusted me.

He merely flipped up the corner of each page and signed wherever his signature was required. He didn't even read the contents of the contract.

When he finally signed his name on the last page, which was the divorce agreement, my pounding heart settled back to its normal rhythm.

I was terrified he might realize what it was. Hence, I took the contract away the moment he finished signing.

Back in the master bedroom, I quietly took out the page bearing Steve's signature and hid it between the pages of a book.

The waiting period for a divorce to be finalized was one month.

...

That very night, I began preparing to move out of the master bedroom.

When Steve returned and saw me limping as I packed to make room for his mistress and his illegitimate child, he stopped me.

"Let Maria or the maids handle this. Once this wave of attention dies down and they leave, you can move back. Don't worry. They won't be staying long," he said, his tone relatively gentle.

I chuckled derisively, my gaze gliding across his serious face. "Should I be thankful for your thoughtfulness?"

Steve's expression soured on the spot.

I wasn't moving houses. In fact, I was just moving to a guest room. So, there wasn't much to pack. All I took with me were some skincare products and a few pieces of clothing.

My most important item was a small wooden box on top of the wardrobe.

I didn't ask anyone for help. Standing on a chair, I carefully took the box down myself.

The child in those photos was the most precious one to Steve. What was inside this box was the most precious thing to me. Unfortunately, my precious one would never get to live freely and jovially like other children. She would remain forever in this small, lightless box.

When I took the box down, Steve was on the balcony. He was on the phone, meticulously discussing with his assistant, Jake Sawyer, which route would be safest to bring Isabel and Dorothy over.

When he came back inside and saw me holding the box in my arms, he looked mildly displeased.

"Why are you taking that with you?" There was a hint of puzzlement in his eyes.

I couldn't help but wonder whether things would be different if our child hadn't died. Would he still have cheated? Would my child be his most precious one, too?

As that thought flashed through my mind, I immediately put a stop to it. I refused to keep draining my sanity for a cheating scoundrel.

Just as I was about to leave, Steve suddenly grabbed my wrist. "I asked you a question. Why are you taking that?"

I looked at him coldly. "Because this is the only thing in this house that truly belongs to me."

Something flickered in his eyes. Perhaps it was the last remnants of the tiny sliver of conscience he had left.

His grip slowly loosened.

I moved into the guest room and placed the box in the safest spot. Then, I stared at it for a long, long time…

...

Sometime in the afternoon the next day, Isabel and Dorothy came to the villa.

Maria had just finished preparing lunch. The entire spread was vegetarian. No matter how elaborate or refined the dishes were, it was still vegetarian food.

Neither Isabel nor Dorothy was used to it.

But in an effort to please Steve, she pretended to eat enthusiastically at first. She even coaxed, or I should say forced, Dorothy to eat along with her.

I sneered inwardly.

So this was the glamorous starlet I saw on TV. Frankly, she wasn't all that. I felt thankful that she wasn't my idol.

After sampling a few dishes, Steve set his fork down in dissatisfaction and asked Maria, "Were these ingredients flown in fresh today? The risotto tastes off, too."

Maria glanced at me awkwardly before explaining, "In the past, your meals were all prepared personally by Mrs. Griffin. For the risotto, Mrs. Griffin mixed Arborio rice, highland barley, truffle shavings, and hazelnut bits in specific proportions before cooking it.

"She isn't feeling well today, so I could only replicate the appearance of her dishes. I can't really replicate the flavor."

Steve clearly hadn't expected that simply changing who cooked would make such a stark difference.

His gaze lingered on me for a long time, thoughtful and probing. However, he never heard me volunteering to take over.

After all, why would I humiliate myself by spending time and effort to help another woman keep her man well-fed?