Chapter 1

For three years, I was nothing more than his wife on paper, a stand-in while he waited for his true love to come back.

When his childhood sweetheart finally returned from abroad, I handed him the divorce papers, only to discover I was gravely ill.

And the man who was three years too late for me, as I turned to leave, eyes red, finally said, "I didn't mean not to love you. I realized it too late."

*****

It was March in Riverdale, and the rain fell like silk threads.

Julia Winters stood at the window, watching as a black Maybach slowly rolled into the underground garage below. She knew that license plate by heart. It was her husband Brandon Stone's car.

Three years of marriage, and she'd barely seen him. But his car showed up in the celebrity gossip every single day. Today, it was probably parked here for some new collaboration.

"Ms. Winters, the contract for Shinewin Group needs your signature," Emily Hart, her assistant, said as she knocked and entered, holding a stack of documents.

Julia turned around, revealing a face that was both delicate and icy. At twenty-seven, her features had a classic beauty, but there was a distant, almost aloof quality in her eyes.

Her long hair was tied back in a low ponytail, and she wore a sharply tailored navy blue suit dress. She looked like a blade sheathed, gentle on the outside, but razor-sharp within.

She took the documents, flipped to the last page, and as her pen touched the signature line, her phone screen lit up.

A message from the contact she'd saved as Mr. Stone. [I have a business dinner tonight. Won't be home for dinner.]

Julia didn't lift her eyelids. Her pen moved steadily across the paper as she signed her name. She handed the documents back to Emily, picked up her phone, and, with a blank expression, typed out: [Okay.]

She didn't ask why he wasn't coming home for dinner. It was never really an option. Brandon barely made it home three times a month, and then, it was usually in the middle of the night, long after she'd gone to bed.

By the time she left for work in the morning, he was still asleep.

They were husband and wife, but honestly, they were more distant than roommates.

Three years ago, their wedding was the talk of Riverdale. All the city's elite were there, and everyone said Julia had married way out of her league.

The Stone family was Riverdale's top-tier dynasty, and Brandon, at twenty-seven, had taken over Shinewin Group and doubled its value in three years. He was the golden boy of the business world.

Julia, on the other hand, was an orphan who'd worked her way through college on scholarships. Her only real asset was that ridiculously pretty face.

No one knew why they'd gotten married. Even Julia herself often felt like it was all some crazy dream.

Three years ago, on a stormy night, Julia was working the late shift in the ER. She wasn't the legal director at Shinewin Group yet, but a law student who'd barely passed the bar, interning at the hospital's legal aid desk.

Suddenly, Brandon was wheeled in, drenched in blood, and his assistant was freaking out, barely able to get the words out: "It's a car accident. Mr. Stone was in a car accident."

The ER was chaotic that night. Every doctor was busy with surgery. Julia knew first aid, so she rushed over, tried to stop the bleeding, and stayed by his side for forty minutes until a doctor finally showed up.

Brandon was barely conscious, but he clung to her hand, mumbling the same name again and again. "Claire..."

Later, Julia realized that it was actually Claire Sinclair, Brandon's childhood sweetheart, and the only woman he'd ever truly loved. Three years ago, Claire left for overseas studies, and before she went, she told him, "Brandon, wait for me."

The day of his car accident happened three days after Claire had gone.

After he was discharged, Brandon found Julia, saying he wanted to thank her.

She was about to brush him off, but then he stood there, tall, almost six-foot-two, in a perfectly tailored dark gray coat, his eyes deep and tired, like a wounded lone wolf who still wouldn't lower his head.

He handed her a business card, his voice low. "Anything you need, you can come to me."

Julia stared at the card. He was Brandon, Chairman of Shinewin Group. Suddenly, she remembered the orphanage director had been diagnosed with liver cancer, and they were still short 60 thousand dollars for the surgery.

She bit her lip and said, "I need money."

Brandon froze for a second, then let out a faint, almost careless smile, a hint of self-destruction flickering in his eyes. "How much?"

"60 thousand dollars," Julia replied.

"I can give you 600 thousand dollars," he said, his eyes dark and impossible to read. "But you have to marry me."

Julia later found out that Brandon's grandfather was gravely ill, and his dying wish was to see his grandson married. Brandon didn't want to settle for anyone, and he definitely wasn't interested in a family-arranged match.

He needed a suitable wife, and Julia was ordinary enough, obedient enough, and never one to pester him.

He was basically looking for a prop, and Julia needed the money, plain and simple. The deal was fair.

On their wedding day, Brandon stood at the end of the aisle in a black suit, waiting for her. Sunlight spilled across his face, making him look almost too perfect to be real.

He reached out his hand, his palm warm and steady, and spoke in a low, solemn voice, "Julia, from now on, we're family."

She slipped her hand into his, her thoughts drifting. He really was stunning. It was too bad he would never be hers. But honestly, she couldn't bring herself to care.

She'd never been greedy. A kid raised in an orphanage knew better than anyone not to reach for what didn't belong to her.

After they got married, Brandon paid for her law school tuition and helped her land a job in Shinewin Group's legal department.

She worked her ass off, and in three years, she went from a regular legal assistant to the director of the legal department.

In those three years, he never once touched her.

The only time they ever got close was on their anniversary. He'd give her a bouquet of white roses and drop a barely-there, ceremonial kiss on her forehead. He was always polite, always restrained, and always distant.

They were like two business partners who'd signed a long-term contract.

Julia used to think she could keep living like this. There were no expectations, no disappointment, and no heartbreak.

However, that day, after Emily left, Julia's phone buzzed again. This time, it was a news alert.

It read: [Claire Sinclair returned today. Airport photos show she's still as elegant as ever. Sources say Claire will be joining Sinclair & Noble as Creative Director.]

Julia stared at the photo on her screen.

Claire was dressed in a beige trench coat, rolling her suitcase out of the arrivals gate, her long hair flowing like a waterfall, her smile warm and graceful.

At thirty-two, she looked barely twenty-seven or twenty-eight. In the shot, she was glancing down at her phone, and the screen clearly showed a chat screenshot.

Brandon: [What time are you getting in? I'll come pick you up.]

Claire: [No need, don't let it interfere with your work.]

Brandon: [You're more important than anything else.]

Julia flipped her phone over, screen down, and set it on the desk.

She looked down at the ring on her finger. It was a plain platinum band, the one Brandon had chosen. He'd told her, "Let's keep it simple, nothing flashy."

She hadn't thought much of it at the time, but now, she realized he'd probably been preparing for Claire to come back all along.

A low-key wife meant the breakup wouldn't cause a scene when the time finally came.

Julia took a deep breath, slipped the ring off her ring finger, and let it sit in her palm for a long while, staring at it.

She didn't cry.

Orphanage kids ran out of tears by the time they're five. That winter, she hid under her blanket, waiting for her mom to come pick her up.

She waited until dawn, until her blanket was soaked through, until all the other kids had gone to breakfast. When she finally crawled out, her cheeks were dry.

After that, she never cried again.

Julia slipped the ring into the deepest corner of her drawer, shut it, and locked it tight.

Then she grabbed her phone and shot Brandon a text. [Let's talk.]

Three seconds later, his reply came in. [Not tonight. Some other time.]

Julia stared at those words and couldn't help but find them ridiculous.

For three years, he was always busy. He was not available for dinner, not available to come home, not available to see her, and not available to actually be her husband.

But somehow, he had time to pick up Claire at the airport.

She didn't reply. She opened her laptop and started writing the divorce papers.