"Would you like to go in?"

"Hold on."

Sienna Winger had been standing outside the half-closed private room door for quite a while now. Deafening music, men's unrestrained laughter, and women's syrupy voices continuously seeped out from inside.

Tim Cluncy, the manager of the club, stood half a step behind her, hunched at the waist and so nervous that he barely dared to breathe. He really had no idea what this "Mrs. Hale" was trying to do.

If she was here to catch her husband cheating, then why wasn't she going in? And if she was heartbroken about things, she seemed awfully calm instead, only staring unblinkingly at the scene inside the private room.

Under the crystal chandelier, a group of wealthy young men was each accompanied by a sexy, curvaceous woman. Some were drinking, some were chatting, and some even openly groped their companions.

Sienna's husband of three years, Clayton Hale, was no exception.

He lounged lazily on the couch in the center of the room, his long legs crossed and a cigarette pinched between his fingers. Wisps of smoke veiled his handsome features.

A woman in a fiery red dress sat flush against him, completely unbothered by the secondhand smoke.

"Mr. Hale… You're so young, so capable, and so handsome," Valentina Cruz cooed. "You can't possibly be married yet, right?"

Clayton raised an eyebrow. The hand holding the cigarette lifted slightly, and the platinum wedding band on his finger caught the light, glimmering faintly.

"What do you think?" he asked, his voice low and deep, giving away no emotion.

"Oh, you're so mean," Valentina said with a feigned pout.

Her gaze landed on his wedding ring, and she playfully swatted his arm. Giggling, she asked, "Then… is your wife as pretty as me?"

Clayton took a drag, exhaled slowly, and glanced sideways at Valentina with a barely-there smirk on his face.

"What? You want to be my wife?"

Seemingly encouraged, Valentina spoke more boldly. "Mr. Hale, I wouldn't mind just being your… good friend."

The room immediately erupted in knowing, suggestive laughter.

"This chick sure is direct."

"She's way more fun than the supposedly shy ones."

"Mrs. Hale is probably sneezing up a storm at home right now with how much she's been mentioned."

Outside, sweat was already forming on Tim's forehead. Seeing that Sienna still had no intention of leaving, he raised his hand to push the door open, wanting to smooth things over.

But Sienna pressed a hand on his arm to stop him.

The next second, to Tim's surprise, and with great force, she kicked the half-open door wide.

The door slammed hard against the wall with a dull, echoing thud. The laughter and flirting inside the room died instantly, and more than a dozen pairs of eyes snapped toward the entrance.

Clayton lazily lifted his eyelids. When he saw who it was, a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes.

Sienna wore no makeup and was dressed simply. She looked so clean and understated that she appeared completely out of place in this extravagant environment. The delicate features of her face had lost their usual gentleness, replaced by cold detachment.

Ignoring all the probing stares, she stormed right up to Clayton.

"Living the good life, aren't we, Mr. Hale? When are you planning to replace me as your wife? Make sure to give me a heads-up so I don't get in the way of you having fun."

Clayton stared at her with a complicated expression, as though he were sizing up a stranger who had suddenly barged in.

Before he could speak, Valentina—still pressed against him and emboldened by the earlier compliments—launched into a lecture, her tone dripping with the smug superiority of someone speaking from experience.

"Sweetie, there's no need to get so worked up. It's in men's nature to have some fun, so it's perfectly normal for them to fool around a little on the side like this. Only a failure of a woman can't keep her man in check."

As she spoke, she even tilted her chin at Sienna provocatively.

"Instead of making a scene like a shrew here, why don't you go home and reflect on what you're lacking, and why you can't hold onto Mr. Hale's heart?"

"Well said!" Miles Turner, Clayton's childhood buddy, chimed in enthusiastically, clapping his hands and enjoying the drama. "You're feisty, little lady. I like that!"

Sienna lazily swept a glance at the woman and shot back without missing a beat, "What? Women like you—constantly 'reflecting' on what you're lacking—can't even find husbands in your own hometown, can you? And that's why you act like a cat in heat, always hanging around other people's trash cans, rummaging through garbage, and treating it like treasure."

The words had just left her lips when she grabbed a glass from the table filled with some unknown alcohol and threw it squarely in Valentina's face.

Valentina let out a shrill scream. In an instant, her arrogant, puffed-up demeanor deflated, leaving her nothing but a drenched mess. The chilled liquid dripped down her head, ruining her makeup and leaving dark stains across her red dress.

"If you hadn't said anything, I would've just ignored you," Sienna said, setting the glass down and casually dusting the nonexistent dirt off her hands. "But since you insisted on asking for it, I figured I'd oblige."

"You bitch!" Valentina screamed, trembling with rage.

She turned to Clayton, her voice breaking as she complained, "Mr. Hale, she's crossed the line! You've got to stand up for me!"

Valentina was used to wives yelling and making scenes. Besides, the man beside her showed absolutely no sign of guilt at being caught. Thus, she only grew bolder, assuming that he'd back her up and teach the wife a lesson.

To her surprise, however, Clayton merely brushed the splashes of alcohol off his suit jacket and coldly spat, "Leave."

Valentina froze. Unwilling to give up, she pleaded with a pout, "Mr. Hale…"

"I won't say it again," Clayton said, his voice dropping lower, carrying an innate sense of authority.

Valentina's face paled. She didn't dare push it and slunk away, tail between her legs.

The room fell into a dead silence once again, with only the faint background music playing.

Only then did Clayton lift his eyes to look at Sienna. "Why are you here?"

Sienna replied breezily, "To find you, of course—your mom's instructions. So be a good boy, listen to your mom, and come home."

The irritation in Clayton's eyes deepened. He leaned back into the couch, his posture faintly taunting. "And if I don't?"

"Sienna, enough already. Clayton not going home for the night isn't exactly something new," Miles jumped in again, stirring the pot.

"You never used to make such a fuss before—what, did you get up on the wrong side of bed today? When men are out socializing, women should just wait obediently at home, not show up and cause trouble!"

Sienna smiled faintly and calmly sat down in a nearby armchair. "Alright. In that case, let's all not make a fuss."

Just as everyone assumed she was backing down and waiting for Clayton to have his fun before leaving, Sienna beckoned to Tim, who was standing at the door. "Bring me the tablet."

"Huh?" Tim was stunned.

Sienna pointed at the tablet in his hands and repeated clearly, "The tablet. Didn't you tell me at the door that you have a huge variety of male strippers here? They all have great bodies, and they provide exceptional service, right? Isn't that this club's specialty?"

She smiled sweetly. "Might as well. I have some free time now, so I'll personally do some sampling."

Cold sweat poured down Tim's back. He sneaked a glance at Clayton, whose expression was utterly stony, and stammered, "Mrs. Hale, th-that might not be appropriate… Mr. Hale—"

"You're rambling," Sienna said flatly.

She stood up, walked over, and snatched the tablet from Tim's hands. Then, she sat back down on the armchair and began swiping through the screen as if no one else existed, her fingers moving rapidly.

Photos of young, handsome, male strippers with sculpted physiques flashed by one after another. Sienna even commented thoughtfully as she browsed.

"Not this one. His abs are way too exaggerated, like a steel plate. I bet they are uncomfortable to touch. No thanks."

"Oh, this one's not bad. Lean muscle, smooth lines. And you can tell right away they're firm but bouncy, so it must be incredible to touch. Love it."

With every word she spoke, the temperature in the room seemed to drop more and more, and to say Clayton's expression was stormy was an understatement.

Miles stared at Sienna in shock. Unable to hold back any longer, he blurted out, "Sienna Winger! Have you lost your mind?"

But Sienna didn't even lift her head. "What? You men throw yourselves at anything that moves, so what's wrong with me enjoying myself a little? I'm still young anyway."

Miles was rendered completely speechless.

"This one's way too tall. My neck will hurt just looking up at him."

"Oh! This one's good!"

Sienna's eyes seemed to light up as her finger stopped on a photo.

"Nice, trim waist, and the best part is he's got that cool, pale skin tone. Just my type."

After some deliberation, she finally settled on her picks. She handed the tablet to Tim, whose face looked as if he had just eaten a really sour lemon, and spoke as calmly as if she were ordering food.

"These three will do. Tell them to hurry over. I'm just too excited."

A man's displeased voice suddenly rang out in the private room. "Are you done messing around?"

Chapter 2

Clayton suddenly stood up, grabbed Sienna's wrist in one swift motion, and yanked her off the armchair before striding toward the exit.

Sienna stumbled from how hard he yanked her, but she continued muttering under her breath, "Weren't we going to have some fun? The hot guys I requested haven't arrived yet."

Hearing this, Clayton turned his head, his deep, dark eyes locking onto her. "Is this fun?"

"Yeah, it is. Weren't you enjoying yourself, too?"

Sienna rubbed her reddened wrist and looked up at him with a smile. "What? You can do whatever you want, but I'm not allowed to do the same?"

"If you love having fun so much, then go ahead and enjoy yourself to your heart's content!" Clayton spat coldly before storming off.

Sienna stood where she was, watching his figure disappear around the corner of the hallway. The smile on her lips slowly faded.

Just then, Tim came jogging out after her and handed her handbag back. "Mrs. Hale, you forgot your bag."

Sienna took it and said flatly, "Call me Ms. Winger from now on."

"Huh?" Tim froze.

She gave him a tight smile, her eyes clouded. "I won't be Mrs. Hale for much longer."

When Sienna walked out of the club, the black Maybach was still parked at the entrance.

The rear window was rolled down, revealing Clayton's sharp profile half-shrouded in shadow.

Rowan Grant, his assistant, instinctively moved to open the door to get out when he saw her approaching, only to hear a low command come from the back seat.

"Drive."

Rowan froze. He glanced awkwardly at Sienna, not far away. "But sir… Mrs. Hale…"

"I said, drive! Let her stay here and have all the fun she wants!" Clayton's voice rose sharply, carrying a faint trace of impatience.

Rowan didn't dare hesitate anymore and immediately started the engine.

Sienna had just reached the car and hadn't even touched the door handle when the car shot forward like an arrow.

"Hey! You jerk! So you're just going to use me and ditch me, huh?"

She cursed loudly several times, but other than a gust of cold wind sweeping past, no one paid any attention to her.

It was March, and Brightford's night air still carried a lingering chill.

Sienna stood by the curb, pulled her coat tighter, and quickly booked a rideshare on her phone.

A familiar mocking scoff sounded behind her.

Miles sauntered over with both hands in his pockets. "Well, well, look whose wife was dumped on the side of the road in the middle of the night, left to stand in the chilly wind?"

Sienna didn't even bother looking up. Her feud with Miles went all the way back to middle school. They were basically like cats and dogs or like opposite ends of a magnet—incompatible from birth. The only thing they had in common was that they both liked to orbit around Clayton.

"You're the one who was dumped!" she shot back. "I'm a person with hands, legs, and a phone. I can go wherever I want. How is that being 'dumped'?"

She turned to look at him and sized him up from head to toe.

"But you, Mr. Turner… are your legs broken, or were you born lame? Do you need someone to carry you everywhere you go? That really is rather pitiful."

Miles' face instantly turned livid. He had never once come out on top in a verbal sparring match with her, and this time, she'd even struck a sore spot. After a racing accident last year, he really had been stuck on crutches for three months.

"Sienna Winger! Watch your tongue! Melody is coming back soon. Let's see if you can still laugh then."

"Milady?" Sienna parroted, looking confused. "I know I'm better than you, but you don't have to be so proper with me."

"Melody Foster!" Miles ground out through clenched teeth. "Clayton's first love! Is your memory already this bad at such a young age?"

Neon lights flickered across Sienna's face. A laugh suddenly escaped her, her tone light and breezy. "As if he's the only one in the world with a first love. You think I don't have one? Haven't you seen plenty of my ex-boyfriends?"

She even started counting on her fingers. "That Quince guy, that Stelton guy, that piano-playing guy from the Talmers, and the one from your department…"

"Enough!" Miles snapped, the veins on his temple throbbing with anger. "Melody is different! Back then, if it weren't because—"

Blinding headlights cut him off. A white Toyota pulled over slowly, and the window rolled down to reveal the driver's puzzled look.

"Passenger, last four digits 7788?"

Sienna opened the car door in one swift motion. As the night wind rushed into the car, she tossed one last line over her shoulder.

"Mr. Turner, you really care way too much about other people's love lives. You clearly have nothing else better to do."

"Sienna, you little brat!"

Miles' furious roar came from outside the window, followed immediately by a pained yelp. He'd kicked a roadside post in anger and ended up hurting himself.

Cut off from the noise and the chill outside, the car was filled with a soft, melancholic song.

Without realizing it, Sienna drifted into her memories.

Melody Foster—how could she possibly forget that name?

Back in her freshman year of high school, Melody had been sponsored into their prestigious private school because of her excellent grades.

She was like a little white bunny who had accidentally wandered into a pack of wolves. Though she looked innocent and fragile, there was a stubborn streak about her. Right away, she attracted the attention of many wealthy young boys, while also drawing the girls' jealousy.

Sienna happened to be in the same class as Melody. She'd long been used to seeing bullying of various degrees and had no intention of getting involved.

Until one day, she saw Melody cornered in the restroom by several girls. Her clothes were soaked through, and her body curled up in the corner. She looked rather pathetic.

Something about those teary eyes softened Sienna's heart, and so she grabbed a mop from the corner and chased the girls away.

After that rescue, Melody began, intentionally or unintentionally, to get close to her.

Sienna was well aware that Melody was seeking her protection, and since she had always been a bit of a loner, the two naturally became friends.

During breaks, they'd lean against the railing, talking about everything. Sienna even shared her secret—her three-year crush on Clayton—and even foolishly brought Melody to his house.

And what did that lead to? Her playing the matchmaker.

She was the very last person to find out that Clayton and Melody were dating. If she were to describe how she felt then, it would be disbelief—followed by collapse, struggle, and finally, helplessness.

But if that were all, maybe Sienna could have forced a smile and wished them well. But Melody did something even more unforgivable.

Not long after they started dating, Rupert Hale, Clayton's grandfather, broke them apart swiftly and decisively. Clayton was sent abroad to study, and Melody and her whole family left Brightford, disappearing without a trace.

Then, three years ago, on the day Clayton returned to Eldavia, he accidentally ended up sleeping with Sienna. She demanded that he take responsibility and forced him into a marriage in an undignified way.

For three years—over 1000 nights—she had tried to wear him down with humble devotion and patience, chipping away at Clayton's ironclad defenses. She battered herself bloody against that wall, but it never budged, not even letting in a single ray of light.

The defenses would probably only be let down for Melody.

Since his warmth was never meant for Sienna, there was no point in her continuing to long for it.

When she returned to the manor, the place was deathly quiet except for the ticking of the clock.

She had just reached the entryway when Edna Blancey, their maid, heard her and hurried over.

"Mrs. Hale, you're finally back. Mr. Hale has been drinking at the island counter the moment he got home, and he hasn't stopped."

Sienna gave a flat "Oh" and headed straight for the stairs.

Edna took a few hurried steps after her, worry written all over her face. "Ma'am, aren't you going to stop him? If he keeps drinking like this, his stomach won't be able to take it."

But Sienna didn't stop. Her voice was neither loud nor soft, but it was enough to carry clearly through the living room.

"Some people haven't had enough to drink outside and insist on shoving more alcohol down their throats. How am I supposed to stop people like that? Do I need to wrestle the bottles out of their hands?"

Chapter 3

Edna froze for a moment, clearly not expecting that response from Sienna. In the past, if Clayton had so much as a slight headache, a fever, or was merely in a bad mood, Sienna would always be the most anxious.

She tried to persuade Sienna, "But—"

"But nothing," Sienna cut her off bluntly and started up the stairs. "He's a grown man, and I'm not his mother. Honestly, he's been spoiled rotten."

Soon, her slender figure disappeared around the turn of the staircase.

If Irene Belcourt, her mother-in-law, hadn't specifically called to order her to drag Clayton back home, she would've been fast asleep by now. Instead, she was returning home reeking of smoke, alcohol, and perfume. The stench of it all was so overpowering that it made her uncomfortable from head to toe.

Sienna decided to just take another shower. When she came out of the bathroom, Clayton still hadn't come upstairs.

Did he want her to go beg him? Not a chance.

Sienna opened the vanity drawer and drew a divorce agreement from a stack of documents. She'd consulted a lawyer three months ago. Since Melody was about to return, it was best to just part ways and keep things civil.

Staring at the black ink on the paper, she suddenly felt playful. She picked up the agreement and waved it through the air, imagining how she'd throw it in Clayton's face.

No matter what, she couldn't lose on the swagger front.

She cleared her throat, held the agreement between two fingers, and lightly tossed it forward.

"Clayton Hale, here's the divorce agreement. Sign it."

Was that a little over the top? She wasn't tossing a check, after all.

She picked it back up and tried again, this time trying a gentler tone.

"Clayton, sign these divorce papers. Let's end things on good terms."

With that, she flicked her wrist as if to toss it, but quickly pulled it back, unable to stop herself from laughing.

"No, that's not cool enough," she muttered to herself.

She then tried several more versions with different tones and gestures, tossing it and picking it up again, repeating the motions over and over.

Yet even after all that rehearsal, Clayton still hadn't come upstairs.

Sienna slid the agreement back into the drawer and let out a self-deprecating laugh.

"The power of first love really is something else. The moment he hears that she's coming back, he's drowning his worries in alcohol—the main worry being how to go against his family and ditch his burdensome wife."

She wasn't about to go out of her way to please him anymore. Without any hesitation, she pulled back the covers, crawled into bed, and went to sleep.

She couldn't help but fantasize that if Clayton drank himself to death, she would inherit his fortune and become a wealthy widow. Then, she could hire ten male strippers at once.

Meanwhile, Clayton remained seated by the kitchen island downstairs. Nearly half a bottle of the top-shelf whiskey was already gone.

He could handle his liquor and wasn't anywhere near blackout drunk. His eyes were still clear, but an indescribable irritation churned in his chest.

Edna stood off to the side, carefully urging him, "Sir, please don't drink so much. You still have to go to the office tomorrow morning."

Clayton ignored her, his gaze once again flicking toward the staircase. But it remained deathly quiet, with not a hint of movement.

Annoyed, he tugged at his collar and tipped his head back, downing the rest of the glass in one go.

Edna seemed to realize what was happening. She mustered her courage and added, "Mrs. Hale might just be too tired today, so she went to bed early."

"Tired?" Clayton repeated with a sneer. "What did she do exactly? She stays at home as a full-time housewife, sheltered from everything. You think that's more tiring than me going to the office and dealing with endless crap all day?"

Edna fell silent at his sharp tone, but she began muttering to herself. Usually, Sienna was very gentle and considerate with Clayton, but today, she seemed like a completely different person.

Based on the TV shows she secretly watched while she was slacking off, she almost wondered if that woman earlier had been Sienna's twin sister in disguise—a cold, aloof version of her.

…

The next morning, Sienna was still in dreamland when someone nudged her shoulder.

"Hey, wake up." A man's deep voice carried a note of impatience.

Sienna frowned. Without opening her eyes, she mumbled groggily, "Who wakes someone up this early…"

"Sienna Winger."

Clayton's voice rose slightly as he looked down at her. "What? Do you think you're the queen now? Do I have to ask you more than once just for you to tie a necktie?"

Sienna finally deigned to open her eyes and met Clayton's handsome face up close.

He was wearing a crisp black shirt buttoned to the top, making him look restrained and aloof. A dark blue tie hung loosely around his neck, clearly waiting for her to help with.

In the past, she would've bolted upright, eyes full of shy affection as she tied his tie for him. Her cheeks would even flush when her fingers accidentally brushed his Adam's apple.

But now, she only glanced at him briefly before turning over and pulling the blanket higher. "Don't you have hands? In the time it took you to wake me up, you could've tied it yourself."

Clayton snorted coldly and pushed her again. "Isn't this your favorite thing to do?"

Muffled beneath the covers, her voice came out dull. "Not anymore."

He stared at the lump under the blanket, and a scoff escaped him from sheer agitation. He yanked off the tie and tossed it aside carelessly. He then grabbed his suit jacket and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

Sienna stayed curled under the covers, motionless. Just as she was about to go back to sleep, a knock sounded.

Edna's concerned voice came through. "Ma'am, why are you still in bed so late today?"

After being disturbed twice, even someone like Sienna couldn't fall back asleep. She resigned herself to sitting up and stretched quietly.

It had been a long time since she'd felt this relaxed.

In the past, Clayton left for work at 9:00 am, and so she'd always wake up at 8:00 am on the dot. She'd get out of bed quietly, prepare a balanced and nutritious breakfast, iron the suit he would be wearing, and lay out the matching tie.

Then, she would hand him a warm cup of coffee just as he sat down at the dining table.

Even with an alarm set, she'd relied purely on her internal clock to wake herself up, just because she was worried the alarm would wake him. Subconsciously, her nerves stayed constantly taut, and she'd jolt awake minutes before the alarm, never truly sleeping well.

And she'd actually kept up that foolish routine for three whole years.

"I really was just torturing myself," she muttered, sighing.

Edna walked in, worry etched on her face. "Mr. Hale is having breakfast downstairs, and his expression doesn't look great. You should hurry and go down to check on him."

Sienna threw off the covers, climbed out of bed, and yawned.

"What's the point of my checking on him? I'm not a doctor. His expression doesn't look good? Well, I don't feel great either."

With that, she strode straight into the bathroom to wash up, leaving Edna standing there, stunned. Was this really the same Sienna as before?

By the time Sienna strolled downstairs in a relaxed manner, the spacious dining room was empty except for Edna clearing the table.

Clayton's seat was already vacant.

Sienna clutched the divorce agreement in her hand. She'd originally planned to tidy herself up and have a proper conversation with Clayton about the divorce, but he'd left so quickly. In that case, she could only go to his office to find him.

Just as she walked up to the dining table, her phone rang.

The name "Wilfred Winger" flashing on the screen made her fingers pause for a second before she finally answered.

"Enna," Wilfred started, his voice gentle. "Find a time and bring Clayton home for dinner. Daphne will do the cooking herself. She'll make your favorite braised fish."

"He's busy," Sienna said, rejecting him flat out.

A brief silence fell over the line.

Winger Group had once been a leader in Eldavia's furniture industry. But with the downturn in real estate, shrinking demand, and Wilfred's string of failed investments in earlier years, the company was no longer the powerhouse it once was.

These past three years, thanks to Sienna's marriage to Clayton, Winger Group had secured plenty of projects through Hale Group. What began as mutual benefit between the two families had gradually morphed into one-sided charity.

Every so often, Wilfred would play the family card. "Then you come back yourself. I miss you."

Sienna chuckled, but her eyes were cold.

He missed her?

When she was still a child, she'd been mistreated by Daphne Langford, her stepmother, and bullied by Olive Winger, her younger stepsister. Yet, he'd always turned a blind eye.

Now that she'd married into the Hale family and become a daughter useful to him, he suddenly missed her regularly.

"Then do you miss my mom?" she asked. "Have you visited her at the hospital even once?"

"Sienna, how long has it been since your mom and I divorced? I'm married now. Is it even appropriate for me to go visit her?" Wilfred retorted, his voice dropping low. "Don't forget—I'm the one who raised you all these years, not your mother. She had nothing to do with it!"

"Oh. Then in that case, it seems it'd be inappropriate for me to go home for dinner, too."

With that, Sienna abruptly ended the call, putting an end to the pointless conversation.

Before going to see Clayton about the divorce, she dropped by Mercy Hospital's VIP room.

The caregiver, Vivian Alvarez, was in the middle of smoothing out the bedsheets. When she saw Sienna walk in, she smiled warmly.

"Ms. Winger, you're here," she greeted.

Sienna placed the fresh lilies she'd brought into a vase. "Yeah. I'd like to talk to my mom for a bit."

"Of course. I'll go get some hot water," Vivian said tactfully, grabbing the tumbler and gently closing the door behind her.

Sienna sat down next to the hospital bed, her gaze resting on her mother's gaunt face. Sustained only by IV nutrition, Eleanor Finch had grown so thin she was almost unrecognizable. Yet, traces of her former beauty still lingered in her features.

Sienna gently held Eleanor's hand, the icy chill of it making her nose sting.

If she hadn't been in such a rush to reunite with her back then, Eleanor wouldn't have rushed out onto the street and ended up getting hit by a speeding car, leaving her severely injured.

Every time Sienna thought about it, guilt crushed her.

"Mom, I'm getting divorced too," she said softly, her voice breaking as tears spilled onto their clasped hands.

"Three years of marriage, and he doesn't even know you, his mother-in-law, exist. I'm sorry I never brought him to see you."

Chapter 4

The monitor's waveform pulsed steadily, without the slightest change.

Sienna accidentally brushed against the plain silver ring on Eleanor's ring finger and sighed softly. "You still haven't let go of Dad? He's been so heartless that he cut things off with you completely."

Because Eleanor had lost so much weight, Sienna was able to easily slide the ring off with just a gentle twist. Upon closer inspection, there were two short, shallow lines on the ring's surface, crookedly intersecting, likely marks left by the car accident.

"Patient in Bed 16, it's time to change the IV nutrition drip," the nurse announced as she pushed the treatment cart into the room.

Sienna slid the ring back onto Eleanor's finger, exchanged a few words with Vivian, and then hurriedly left the hospital.

…

Clayton had sat through several back-to-back meetings that morning. He returned to his office, feeling slightly exhausted, and his gaze landed on the empty corner of his desk.

Normally, that was where the insulated lunchbox Sienna brought would sit.

Rowan knocked cautiously and came in, holding a lunchbox. "Mr. Hale, everything's been arranged for Ms. Foster's placement with the Brightford Theater Company."

Clayton rubbed his temples, not responding as he opened the lunchbox instead. When he saw the green onions scattered in the stir-fried shrimp, his brows immediately furrowed.

"Why are there green onions?"

Rowan felt a chill run down his back as he hurried to explain, "I'm sorry, sir. I waited in the parking lot at noon for a long time, but I didn't see Mrs. Hale dropping off lunch. Time was running out, so I just went to buy something from the cafeteria."

His voice grew smaller and smaller. "I forgot you don't eat green onions. I'll go get you a different meal right away."

"No need," Clayton said as he picked up his utensils and started picking out the green onions one by one.

Staring at those tiny green pieces, he couldn't help but think of the way Sienna used to lower her head and carefully remove every single piece of green onion.

He didn't like eating them, yet he oddly enjoyed the fragrance they added to the food when stir-fried.

Sienna would always tirelessly pick out every single piece, her expression as serious as if she were solving a math problem.

"Where is she?" Clayton asked abruptly.

"Huh?" Rowan didn't catch on at first. "Do you mean… Mrs. Hale?"

"Who do you think?"

"Edna said that after Mrs. Hale finished breakfast, she dressed herself up nicely, took a phone call, and then went out."

Rowan swallowed before adding, "She hasn't gone back yet."

Inwardly, he couldn't help but wonder whether Sienna was having an affair or something of the sort. No wonder Clayton's mood was especially bad today.

Clayton slammed his fork down on the desk with a loud snap. His lips pressed into a thin line. "I've really indulged her too much lately. She's getting more and more out of line, not even bringing me lunch now. If she calls to ask about my schedule, don't tell her. Let that be her punishment."

Rowan wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Okay."

…

At that very moment, Sienna stood at the front desk. She wore sunglasses and lightly tapped her fingers against the marble countertop.

"I'm sorry, miss," the receptionist said, maintaining a professional smile. "You can't see Mr. Hale without an appointment."

Sienna pressed her lips together.

Very few people outside of their circle knew about her marriage to Clayton. To avoid disturbing his work, every time she brought him lunch, it felt like a covert operation—handing the lunchbox to his assistant in the underground parking lot and never daring to enter through the front door.

Now that she thought about it, it was truly laughable.

Forget it. She didn't want to make things hard for someone just doing their job, so she dialed Rowan's number directly.

The call connected almost immediately. "Mrs. Hale, what's wrong?"

"I'm downstairs," she said calmly. "Tell the front desk to let me in. I need to see Clayton."

There was a noticeable pause on the other end. Rowan assumed she was there to deliver lunch, and so he quickly agreed.

"Okay, please hand your phone to the receptionist."

After Rowan said a few words, the receptionist immediately became more respectful. She personally escorted Sienna to the CEO's private elevator, pressed the floor button for her, and smiled politely.

"You can take the elevator straight up."

Sienna nodded in thanks.

When she stepped out of the elevator again, Rowan was already there to greet her. "Mrs. Hale, why did you come up by yourself? If you're delivering lunch, I could've gone down to get—"

"I'm not here to deliver lunch," Sienna interrupted him.

Behind the sunglasses, her gaze swept the spacious hallway. "Where's Clayton's office?"

Only then did Rowan notice that she was carrying nothing but a handbag, with no lunchbox in sight.

"This way, please," he said courteously, leading the way.

However, inwardly, his heart was pounding. Why did it feel like Sienna was here to settle a score?

When they reached Clayton's office, Rowan knocked lightly. "Mr. Hale, Mrs. Hale is here."

A cold, indifferent "Come in" sounded from inside.

Sienna pushed the door open and was immediately met with Clayton's passive-aggressive tone.

"I've already finished eating, and you only bring the food now? A little late for that, don't you think?"

Sienna walked up to the desk and yanked off her sunglasses.

"Bring what food? I'm here to talk to you about something."

As she spoke, she pulled the divorce agreement from her bag. With a flick of her wrist, she sent it slicing through the air in a sharp, clean arc. It grazed past the bridge of his nose and landed squarely on the desk.

"Clayton," she said flatly. "Let's get a divorce."

Chapter 5

With his head lowered, Clayton had been reviewing documents when he heard the word "divorce". The tip of his pen faltered, leaving a dark blot of ink spreading across the paper.

He slowly lifted his gaze to Sienna, as if checking whether he'd imagined it. "What did you say?"

"Already hard of hearing at such a young age?" Sienna asked, her voice rising several notches as she enunciated each word clearly. "Let's get a divorce. Sign this agreement."

Clayton leaned back in his chair casually, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "Playing hard to get with me now? Where'd you learn that? Watched too many soap operas?"

"If you want to play mind games, you can play by yourself," Sienna retorted.

She stepped forward, flipped to the last page of the divorce papers, and jabbed her finger at her own signature. "It just needs your signature now. Then we'll find a time to file it."

Clayton's gaze swept over her bold signature before settling on the amount listed under asset division.

"50 million dollars?" He let out a low, mocking laugh. "Grabbing everything you can? I've never seen anyone this greedy."

"Well, congratulations—now you have."

Sienna slapped a second set of papers onto his desk. "Here, a discount. 30 million dollars."

Clayton stared at her coldly, not saying a word.

She tossed out another one and asked tentatively, "20 million dollars?"

"Just how many copies did you prepare?" Clayton asked, a dark edge creeping between his brows.

Before the words had even fully landed, yet another agreement was chucked onto his desk.

"Ten million dollars," Sienna said, her lips curving into a small smile. "Surely you're not that stingy, right, Mr. Hale? If word got out that you refused to give your ex-wife even ten million dollars, it would really hurt your reputation. Once we're divorced, I can't guarantee what kind of stories I might tell."

Unfazed, Clayton asked, "What about me is worth spreading stories about?"

"Oh, trust me, there's plenty."

She thought it over seriously for a moment, then started counting on her fingers. "You have a bad temper, love throwing your weight around, have a permanently grumpy expression, as if everyone owes you, your words are sharp and cutting, you're emotionally unavailable, you lead women on all the time…

"Oh, and your skills in a certain department aren't great either."

After summing it up like this, Sienna felt impressed with herself for enduring him for the past three years. She might as well have been a saint.

"And now we can add one more," she finished. "You're a tightwad."

After hearing her opinion of him, Clayton couldn't take it anymore. He shot to his feet, his tall frame looming over her.

"Weren't you the one who forced Grandpa to make me marry you? Now you're the one regretting it?"

"Yes, I regret it," Sienna admitted openly and frankly.

She'd been greedy back then. But this mistake would be corrected sooner or later, so there was no point in charging straight down a dead-end road. Now that she'd hit a wall, it was time to turn around.

She pulled out the final copy of the agreement from her bag, her expression calm. "I'll leave empty-handed."

In this marriage alliance of theirs, she'd always been the one who'd benefited more, so she didn't have the confidence to argue for an even split of the assets. The previous four copies had just been a gamble to see whether Clayton would be merciful enough to give her something.

The result was obvious—he really was a cheapskate.

Clayton froze for a second, staring at the divorce agreement that demanded nothing. He then asked in a flat voice, "And the reason for wanting a divorce?"

"I'm tired of you. I'd like a new model."

No longer bothered, Sienna stopped holding back. "I want someone with a good temper, no ego, gentle and kind, emotionally supportive, faithful, and skilled in a certain department. You? You're last year's news."

Something she said clearly poked at his manly pride, because the next second, Clayton grabbed all five copies of the divorce agreements from his desk and hurled them at her. Paper scattered in a flurry, several sheets grazing her cheek, leaving a sharp sting.

"What right do you have to ask me for a divorce? Get out!"

His roar left Sienna's ears ringing. She'd wanted to say more, but seeing the stormy look on his face, she wisely chose to leave.

What if he decided to start hitting her?

Sienna started for the door, still mumbling under her breath, "Why are his anger issues suddenly flaring up? Or did I hurt his pride by asking for a divorce?"

Either way, it couldn't possibly be because he was reluctant to part with her.

Rowan sidled over, having heard the commotion. Carefully, he asked, "Mrs. Hale, what happened?"

"I asked him for a divorce," Sienna replied, sliding her sunglasses back on and heading toward the elevator.

"Did you feed him explosives for lunch or something? He's in such a bad temper, and he even yelled for me to get out—so I very smoothly went right out."

Rowan blinked at her. He silently drew a cross over his chest, thinking that today was probably going to be a very difficult day.

The elevator chimed open. Sienna strode out in her high heels, only to run straight into a familiar figure.

Seven years had passed, and the once plainly dressed girl now wore an exquisitely tailored camel-colored cashmere dress, her long hair cascading like a waterfall over her shoulders.

Her face was still innocent and lovely, but her eyes and brows now carried a touch more allure.

The same receptionist who'd been respectful to Sienna earlier was now eagerly showing Melody the way. "Ms. Foster, Mr. Hale is waiting for you upstairs. Please take the elevator this way."

Behind her sunglasses, Sienna's brow arched slightly. She walked straight past them without even sparing the woman a glance.

"Sienna?" Melody suddenly called out, her voice soft and gentle. "It really is you. I almost didn't recognize you with the sunglasses on."

Sienna stopped and glanced back at her coolly. "I don't think we know each other well enough to exchange pleasantries. Or are you just an extreme extrovert, greeting everyone you see, Ms. Foster?"

But Melody acted like she hadn't understood the sarcasm at all and put on a show of concern. "Can you just casually come here like this? Isn't it a little inappropriate?"

Sienna took off her sunglasses and flashed a bright smile. "What? The actual wife can't come, but the mistress can?"

Sensing trouble, the receptionist quickly slipped away.

Melody's eyes reddened, her expression wounded. "How am I the mistress? I was clearly the one who was with Clay first back then. If it weren't because—"

"So what?" Sienna interrupted impatiently. "Are you planning to keep telling that story until you're on your deathbed? Or are you going to have it engraved on your tombstone, too? Just because you weren't the mistress back then doesn't mean you can't be one now."

Melody bit her lip, suddenly stepping closer and lowering her voice. "Sienna Winger, the one who isn't loved is the real mistress."

A glint of triumph flashed through her eyes. "Clay doesn't love you at all. Forced things never turn out sweet."

"Whether it's sweet or not, how is one supposed to know without giving it a try?" Sienna asked, before pausing and deliberately dragging out her words. "Oh… And Clayton really isn't that sweet at all. I've already decided to throw him away. If you want him, feel free to dig him out of the trash can."

She turned to leave, but Melody grabbed her hand and shoved two theater tickets into her palm.

"I just signed with the Brightford Theater Company. There'll be a play, and you're specifically invited to come watch."

Her red lips curved slightly as she added, "Clay will be there too. After all, it will be my debut here in Eldavia, and he cares a lot about it."

Then, without even caring whether Sienna would take the tickets or not, Melody turned and stepped into the elevator.

Sienna looked down at the gold-embossed title on the tickets—"The White Swan"---and let out a laugh. She casually crumpled them into a ball and, just before the elevator doors slid shut, lobbed them with perfect aim straight at Melody's head.

"Ah!" Melody cried out, clutching her forehead in shock, clearly not expecting it.

Sienna brushed her hands off in disgust. "People these days really have no manners. Going around throwing trash everywhere? No concern for the environment at all."

Just before the elevator doors fully closed, she finally saw a tiny crack appear in Melody's perfectly composed mask.