Chapter 1

On our third wedding anniversary, I spent three hours in the kitchen, making Vincent Savage's favorite seafood chowder, searing steaks to a perfect medium, and laying out a full table of dishes he once said he liked.

The clock in the living room ticked past 1 a.m.

I sat on the cold dining chair, still in the cream dress I'd picked out just for him. My makeup was flawless, my hair soft and neat. Just like every night over the past three years when I waited for him to come home, I stayed quiet, obedient, understanding.

Everyone said I was the most fortunate woman in the city to marry someone as rich as Vincent, the man in charge of Savage Group, that I was living in luxury, admired by all.

Only I knew the truth. These three years of marriage had been lonely and empty.

Vincent didn't love me.

He married me because his grandfather threatened to kill himself otherwise. Moreover, it benefitted his family, and he needed a well-behaved wife who wouldn't cause trouble.

Meanwhile, I'd loved him for ten years.

From that memorable first glance at seventeen, to marrying him at twenty-three, I gave him my whole heart without holding anything back. However, it was trampled on, ignored, and cast aside.

I kept telling myself to wait a little longer, that one day he'd turn around, see me and fall in love with me.

But tonight, all that waiting turned into a massive joke.

*****

Click.

The sound of the door unlocking cut through the silence of the house.

I stood up, and out of habit, put on a gentle smile, ready to greet Vincent.

But in the next instant, all the color drained from my face.

Vincent walked in, dressed in an expensive black suit with his collar open, a striking rose-colored lipstick mark smeared right at his collar.

He didn't smell like rain. Just strong alcohol and a sweet, unfamiliar perfume that clung to him.

He had a woman in his arms, holding her close.

She wore a white dress, her long hair draped over her shoulders. Her face was pale, making her look delicate and pitiful. Her head rested against his chest, her arms wrapped around his neck, clinging to him as if he were her lifeline.

It was Nora Bullock.

She had latched onto him for three years, always pretending to be his little sister. She was forever delicate and innocent, and to Vincent, his perfect true love.

My heart felt like it was being crushed by an invisible hand, the pain so intense I could hardly breathe.

My fingertips were ice-cold, my whole body was shaking, and I could barely stay on my feet.

Vincent glanced at me, totally indifferent. There was no guilt, no warmth, only impatience, like I was some trash blocking his way.

Vincent's voice was low and cold as he said, "Why are you still up so late?

"Move. Don't stand there in my way."

Nora lifted her head from Vincent's arms. When she saw me, her eyes went wide with shock and guilt, her eyes red. Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"I'm sorry, Sofia. I didn't mean to. I was feeling so dizzy tonight. I had no other option but to ask Vincent to bring me back," she murmured.

As she spoke, she burrowed deeper into Vincent's arms, clinging to him. That look of utter dependence stabbed right into my heart.

I bit my lower lip, tasting blood, barely holding myself together.

For three years, I'd endured his endless late nights, his cold indifference, and the way he always put Nora before me.

But this time, he brought her right into our marital bedroom.

Moreover, it was on the night of our third anniversary.

I stared at the cold food on the table, at everything I'd carefully prepared, and all I could feel was how ridiculous it all seemed.

It was like I was nothing but a clown, performing a sad tragedy for an empty audience.

Vincent frowned, then gently patted Nora's back with the kind of gentle patience he'd never shown me.

"Don't be afraid. As long as I'm here, no one will dare blame you," he said softly.

Then he looked up at me, his eyes cold as ice.

"Sofia, go back to your room. I'll take Nora upstairs to rest," Vincent said.

Rest.

It was like a venom-tipped dagger, stabbing right through my last bit of defense.

I finally laughed, tears spilling down my cheeks uncontrollably.

My whole body trembled as I laughed, the sound so bitter it made me pity myself too.

Vincent froze for a second, like he never thought I'd react this way.

To him, I was always the gentle, obedient Sofia who'd never stand up for herself.

"Vincent," I said, my voice hoarse but strangely calm. "Do you know what today is?"

He frowned. "What day?"

He didn't even know it was our anniversary.

The ache in my chest spread like a thousand tiny needles, crawling through every inch of my body.

I took a deep breath, pulled out the divorce papers I'd prepared for so long, and placed them on the table.

The white pages looked harsh and glaring under the light.

"Sign them," I said.

Vincent's face finally shifted.

He released Nora and marched right up to me, looming over me, his eyes blazing with anger and disbelief.

"Sofia, are you done with your fuss?" Vincent snapped. "Is this really how you're going to act because I came home late? Don't take my patience for granted."

He thought I was simply making a scene.

He thought I'd never leave him.

He thought I'd go back to crying, apologizing, forgiving him with a smile, and keep being his well-behaved trophy wife, just like always.

I looked up at him, and for the first time, gave him an icy, indifferent stare.

Those eyes that once held nothing but him were now filled with nothing but emptiness and despair.

"I'm not causing a scene," I said, my voice steady and clear. "Vincent, I'm done. I truly don't want you anymore."

I grabbed the pen and signed my name, Sofia Trevino, on the divorce papers.

The signature was clean and decisive. There was no lingering feelings and no attachment.

After signing, I let the pen fall onto the table and looked straight at him.

"I don't want a single cent from our marriage. Everything you gave me, including the house, the cars, the savings, the luxury stuff, I'm leaving all behind," I said. "All I want is a divorce.

"May we never cross paths again."

Vincent suddenly seized my wrist, his grip so fierce it felt like he might crush my bones.

His eyes blazed red, his tone menacing.

"You really think you can divorce me? Sofia, don't forget that I'm supporting you. Without me, you're nothing," he spat. "If you leave here, you won't last a day out there."

I yanked my hand free, his grip leaving a vivid red mark around my wrist.

I stared at him, my gaze so calm it was almost chilling.

"Mr. Savage, I'd rather starve than spend another penny of yours," I said. "I loved you willingly and without regret. But now? I don't love you anymore.

"I don't want your money, your status, and your so-called tenderness. Not anymore."

With that, I turned around, not looking twice at him, nor the table full of food, and not even at the home I'd kept watch for three years.

I only took a small suitcase, packed a few clothes, and the dreams I had when I was young.

When I opened the door, cold wind mixed with rain hit my face, icy and sharp.

But I felt lighter than ever before.

The door closed behind me, shutting out three years of love, pain, and of me swallowing my pride.

Vincent stood frozen in the living room, his heart suddenly feeling hollow.

A panic he'd never felt before crashed over him like a wave.

Nora stepped forward, trying to take his arm, but he shoved her away.

"Get out," he snapped.

For the first time ever, Vincent lost his temper at Nora.