Chapter 2

The next evening, Edward came back from his business trip. I was sitting in the living room, waiting for him. Before he could reach out to hug me, I pushed the agreement toward him.

"What's this?" Edward was clearly surprised as he sat down next to me.

"The prenup. Only two months left until our three-year deal is up. But if you're in a rush, we can call it off anytime," I said.

Edward frowned. "Isabelle, what's this about?"

I looked up at him calmly. "I don't care about whatever happened between you and Ms. Reed. But I don't want to stay in this position.

"Before the marriage proposal, I had no idea you already had a girlfriend. Sorry, but I'm not interested in being the other woman who breaks up a real relationship."

Edward's expression faltered for a moment. He reached out, as if to pull me close, his tone softer than before. "It's been over between Stella and me for a long time. Those love letters were written by her. It has nothing to do with me."

I leaned away a bit, and his arm hung awkwardly in the air.

"Don't read too much into it," Edward said, finally resting his hand on my shoulder and giving it a gentle, reassuring pat. "You're still my wife until the three years are up."

I nodded. "Okay."

That night, we had dinner together. Afterward, we cuddled up in the media room and watched an old movie, and as the credits rolled, things naturally got intimate.

Afterward, he carried me to the shower like he always did, and I fell asleep with my head resting on his arm.

Once again, I found myself almost believing he might care about me.

Halfway through the night, I woke up to find Edward gone.

Without thinking, I looked toward the balcony. The curtains weren't fully closed, leaving a sliver of space. Through it, I could see him standing out there, his back to me, holding his phone.

I slipped out of bed quietly and walked to the door.

"I've already handled the trending topic," Edward's voice came from the balcony, low and deliberate. "I don't want this incident to affect the Franklin family's partnership with the Lane family."

There was a brief silence.

"Stella, it's over between us," Edward said.

I stood behind the curtain, my fingers curling into fists.

He listened for a while longer, then said, "Get some rest."

The call ended. I thought he was coming back inside, but instead, he dialed another number.

"Charles Grant, we need a global brand ambassador for the new season. Reach out to Stella's agent and agree to whatever terms they ask for," Edward said.

I heard the click of a lighter. A flash of flame, and he lit a cigarette. Smoke drifted into the night, his profile briefly illuminated by the glow of the cigarette before fading back into darkness.

Back when we first got married, he had a faint smell of cigarettes sometimes. I coughed, and after that, I never saw him smoke again.

I stood behind the curtain, watching him chain-smoke. My feet felt cold, and I realized I was standing barefoot on the floor.

I tiptoed back to bed, lay down, and closed my eyes.

At that moment, I made up my mind. This was the first time, and I would overlook it this once. But I would never let it happen again.

After the news broke that Stella was the new brand ambassador, she started coming and going from Franklin Tower almost every day.

I tried not to dwell on it. But one day, a text popped up from a number I didn't recognize.

Opening it, I found a photo. Edward and Stella were sitting across from each other at the café downstairs in Franklin Tower. Stella was propping her chin in her hand, smiling brightly at him, her gaze full of dependence.

Below the photo, there was a line of text: [Mrs. Franklin, his coffee order is still the same. Americano, no sugar, no milk. Thanks for taking care of him these past three years.]

I stared at those words for a long time.

Of course, I knew Edward drank his Americano black, with neither sugar nor milk. Every morning for the past three years, I'd hand him that exact cup before he walked out the door. I always assumed it was what he liked.

But it wasn't about liking it. It was a habit, one Stella left behind. And I was living out her habit.

I deleted the message without replying.