Chapter 1
In the third year of our marriage, Desmond Barton admitted he still couldn't forget his kept mistress, Cindy Warton.
Because of her, he had asked me for a divorce twice before.
The first time, his phone screen lit up with Cindy's selfie.
I lost control. I rushed forward and smashed everything in the house that I could get my hands on, wrecking half the villa.
The second time was when he returned early one morning after staying out all night. His clothes reeked of cloying perfume.
He said, "Cindy is timid. She's afraid of the dark, so I had to stay with her."
That day also happened to be my birthday.
I had wanted to make a huge scene, but then I remembered the new manicure I'd just gotten. It looked pretty nice.
I decided to let it go.
The third time came when Cindy got pregnant.
Before Desmond could say anything, I spoke first. "Let's pick a day to finalize the divorce. Consider it my gift to the two of you."
Desmond's face darkened at once.
*****
The air in the living room was thick with tension.
Desmond stood by the doorway, his suit jacket still damp from the night. For once, that handsome, composed face of his showed a rare hint of shock.
"What did you say?" Desmond asked, his brows furrowing.
He looked at me like he couldn't quite process what I'd said. Either he hadn't heard me right, or he simply couldn't believe it.
"Let's divorce, obviously," I replied.
I leaned back on the couch, flipping through a home decor magazine, not bothering to look up.
I said, "Weren't you about to bring it up? Cindy is already pregnant. If you keep dragging your feet, she'll be showing and won't look good in a wedding dress."
Desmond didn't move.
He stood there for a long moment before finally speaking, his voice low, "You knew?"
What a question.
His mistress, Cindy, was anything but low-key.
She had a million burner accounts.
She was always popping up in my social feed, making her presence known.
One day, she'd post an ultrasound pic, the next day she'd drop a passive-aggressive line like, [Some people are hogging the spot and not doing what they should.]
She might as well have had "I'm pregnant" tattooed on her forehead.
Like I could possibly miss that.
Desmond seemed to get it, letting out a sigh.
He walked over and tried to reason with me. "Beth, she's young. Don't stoop to her level.
"I still stand by everything I promised you before."
Desmond had promised that after marrying Cindy, he'd come back to me and we'd get back together.
He also swore up and down that he never forgot how I stood by him through it all.
He promised I'd always be his wife.
What a joke.
As if I cared about being his wife.
He didn't know that we were never getting back together.
"Fine," I said, standing up and tossing the magazine back onto the coffee table. I brushed at imaginary creases on my nightgown. "Let's settle it then and pick a day soon.
"Think of it as a wedding present from me."
Desmond's expression soured, his face clouded with discomfort.
"Beth! What are you saying?" he snapped.
I shrugged, acting like it was nothing, and walked off toward the bedroom.
I figured that now I was finally agreeing to the divorce, he'd be over the moon.
However, he didn't look happy at all.
As I was about to head upstairs, Desmond's voice came from behind me. "Beth."
I stopped in my tracks, feeling impatient.
The crystal chandelier in the living room was almost blinding, lighting up Desmond's face clearly.
He had thick brows, piercing eyes, and a high-bridged nose.
His jawline looked even more chiseled than it did five years back.
Back then, my parents used to say he was too handsome for his own good, that men like him couldn't be trusted.
I never believed them then.
But I did now.
Desmond studied me, his eyes full of confusion/
"Why are you suddenly agreeing to the divorce?" he asked.
I couldn't blame him for being curious.
After all, back then, I would've rather torched the whole villa than let Desmond and Cindy have their way.
"No reason," I said with a small smile.
I just suddenly figured it out that I didn't want to spend another night relying on sleeping pills.
I didn't want to keep losing my mind, living like some madwoman.
What was the point of that?
It had been almost half a year since Desmond and I had our last big fight.
Because of Desmond's cheating, I'd done so many stupid things.
We were childhood friends who grew up together, and later became campus lovers.
Ours was a romance that stretched over more than ten years.
When our startup hit rock bottom, we were stuck in a tiny 200-square-feet rental apartment in Rogow City during the freezing winter.
Desmond watched me, my cheeks burning with fever because we couldn't pay for heat, and broke down, sobbing.
He swore he'd make something of himself, that he'd give me a better life.
And he did.
Our houses kept getting bigger.
His business empire kept expanding.
But as his success grew, he found himself surrounded by more and more admirers.
In the beginning, he brushed off some of the women who tried to get close to him.
But then Cindy showed up.
She was the front desk girl at Desmond's company.
The first time I met Cindy was when I brought lunch for Desmond at his office.
Stepping out of the elevator, I spotted a girl at the front desk. She was in a white dress, with long hair draped over her shoulders, gentle eyes, and a soft, sweet voice.
When she saw me, she gave a polite nod. "Are you here to see Mr. Barton? He's in the conference room. Please wait a moment."
I smiled and nodded.
Back then, I had no clue that this seemingly innocent girl would turn my whole world upside down, wrecking everything I'd built over more than ten years.
It didn't take long after Cindy showed up at the company for Desmond to start "working late" all the time.
At first, it was just once or twice a week, then it crept up to three or four times, and before I knew it, he was barely home before midnight most nights.