Chapter 1
Vivian Grant craved touch like other people craved air, but her husband, Lucas Sterling, was a germaphobe with zero sex drive.
She'd brush against him, and he'd go through half a bottle of hand sanitizer.
She'd kiss him, and he'd brush his teeth a dozen times.
One night, she pretended to be drunk and climbed into his bed, and he threw her out along with all the sheets she'd touched.
He looked down at her like she was a piece of dirty gum stuck to his shoe. "Are you really that desperate?"
The cold words hit her like a slap across the face, and she stood there shaking.
Three years of living like a widow. After three years of trying everything, he never budged.
The most pathetic moments were when she'd sneak into his closet and hold his discarded shirts just to feel close to him, like some kind of pervert.
Vivian finally admitted defeat and went to her study to print out the divorce papers she'd been keeping ready.
She was about to head to the guest bedroom to get his signature when she saw him suddenly walk out of the master bedroom and head straight for his office at the end of the hall.
Before Lucas took over Sterling Group, he'd been a sculptor, and whenever he was home, he spent most of his time in this studio.
He'd even spent their wedding night in there.
The studio was his forbidden territory—a place he'd declared completely off-limits.
As his wife, Vivian was no exception to that rule. Even when she'd tried asking about it with a casual smile, his expression would turn cold in an instant.
She was always so afraid of upsetting him, so despite her curiosity, she'd made a point of avoiding that door entirely.
But they were getting divorced anyway.
She was going to see what had captivated him all this time.
Vivian instinctively lightened her steps and followed behind him. When she peeked through the crack in the door, her eyes went wide with shock, and she quickly pressed her hand over her mouth as tears spilled down her face.
The studio was filled with sculptures—dozens of them lining the walls and covering every surface. However, each piece was draped with a red silk cloth, concealing whatever lay beneath.
Lucas stood in front of a life-sized sculpture, and Vivian felt her breath catch in her throat.
His handsome face was twisted with restraint, and he was kissing the sculpture's lips through a red silk cloth that draped over it.
His body pressed against the statue's curves, moving rhythmically against where the hips would be, and his usually cold voice had turned rough with desire.
"Chloe, I want you," he murmured over and over.
As he moved, the red silk slipped down, and Vivian's heart stopped.
The face beneath was achingly beautiful and unmistakable—it was Chloe, Lucas' brother's wife.
So that was it. He wasn't cold by nature at all. He'd just poured every ounce of his desire into a woman he could never have.
Vivian couldn't watch anymore. She clutched the divorce papers in her trembling hand and stumbled out of the room, her legs barely holding her up.
Behind her, she could still hear his muffled sounds of pleasure drifting through the door.
He stayed in there all night, and she sat on the couch downstairs for just as long, staring at nothing until dawn broke.
*****
Lucas came rushing down the stairs the next morning.
When he saw Vivian, he didn't even slow down. "I'm heading back to Sterling Manor," he said flatly, and kept walking.
Chloe was at Sterling Manor.
Vivian used to wonder why he was always going back there, but now she finally understood.
Her eyes were swollen and red, and she let out a bitter laugh.
She called out to him and held the agreement out in front of him. "Lucas, just sign it."
Lucas stopped in his tracks and frowned. He was about to look through the document when his phone suddenly rang.
He immediately lost interest in the papers and just grabbed the pen, scrawling his name across the signature line.
When his fingers brushed against the tearstains on her signature, he frowned in disgust.
After he finished signing, he pulled out a cleaning wipe to scrub his hands and hurried out of the villa without another word.
Vivian stood there quietly, watching his retreating figure, and tears streamed down her face as she clutched the divorce agreement so tightly that it wrinkled in her grip.
She went straight to the courthouse.
The clerk handed her the receipt and reminded her, "After the thirty-day cooling-off period ends, you can come back to get the certificate."
Vivian nodded, her eyes still red.
In thirty days, she'd give him back his freedom.