Chapter 1
After eight years of marriage, Steven Taylor told me that his first love was back and wanted me to let him go.
I didn't cry or throw a tantrum. I signed the divorce papers without a second thought.
The moment I walked out of the city hall, I called the bank.
"Hello, I'd like to report the loss of all the supplementary cards under my name," I said.
Steven got his wish and threw a lavish wedding for his first love.
The event was held at a five-star hotel, with thirty banquet tables and flowers covering the entire hall.
When the wedding was over, he pulled out his black card with a smile to pay the bill.
The staff member swiped it three times, and his expression grew increasingly awkward.
"Sir, I'm sorry. This card has been reported lost by the cardholder," the staff member said.
Steven froze on the spot, his face turning pale.
*****
The day Steven brought his first love, Amanda Blake, home, I was making soup.
The pot was simmering on low heat.
The whole house was filled with a warm, comforting aroma.
The door opened.
He stood in the entryway, a woman trailing behind him.
I'd seen her in a photo before.
It was an old, yellowed photo tucked away in the hidden compartment of his wallet.
"Christina," Steven said.
There was no guilt in his voice.
Instead, he sounded almost relieved.
He told me, "Amanda's back."
I turned off the stove and wiped my hands.
"Okay," I replied.
"She's not in good health. She'll need someone to look after her from now on," Steven said.
"So?" I looked at him, my gaze calm.
He seemed a bit surprised by how calm I was.
He paused for a moment before continuing, "Let's get a divorce.
"I'm sorry you had to put up with me for eight years.
"I know you don't have feelings for me. It's always felt like we're roommates.
"I want to start living for myself."
Amanda, standing behind him, moved closer, looking fragile and gentle.
She slipped her arm through his, but gave me a look that was challenging and provocative.
It was as if she saw me as some old furniture ready to be tossed aside.
"The house and the car are yours," Steven said.
He sounded so generous, like he was tossing me a bone.
He added, "You'll still get annual dividends from the company.
"You'll be set for life. You won't have to worry about money again."
I didn't say a word.
I walked over to the living room cabinet, opened the drawer, and pulled out a folder from the very back.
"I've drawn up the agreement," I said.
I set the documents and a pen on the coffee table in front of him.
"Split the assets however you want. I'm not taking anything," I said.
Steven was left speechless.
He'd pictured me crying, confronting him, maybe even falling apart.
But he never saw this coming.
His face darkened.
Amanda's face flickered with mixed emotions.
"Did you want a divorce all along?" he asked.
"Sign it," I said, ignoring his question.
He picked up the pen and signed his name on the last page, his hand moving fast.
He pressed the pen so hard that it nearly ripped through the paper.
It was like he was taking out all his resentment on the page.
"Meet me at the city hall entrance at nine tomorrow," I said.
I gathered up the agreement and showed them the door.
"The soup's not ready yet. So, you won't be staying for dinner," I said.
He left with Amanda, slamming the door behind them.
I poured the soup I'd spent three hours simmering down the drain.
The next day, when I arrived at the city hall entrance, Steven was already waiting.
He was alone. Amanda wasn't there.
He looked at me with a complicated look in his eyes.
"Christina, do you not care at all?" he asked.
"Does it matter?" I shot back.
He was left speechless.
The whole process was quick. When we stepped out of the city hall, the sunlight was almost blinding.
Steven looked at me as if he wanted to say something.
But I didn't give him the chance.
I dialed a number.
"Hello, Mr. Russell," I said.
A respectful male voice came through the line.
"Hello, Ms. Doyle," Quentin Russell replied.
I said, "Please report my black card ending in 8888, along with all its supplementary cards, as permanently lost.
"Do it right away."
"Yes, all of them," I said. "Including the ones held by Steven, Rosa, and Paulina."
"Make it effective immediately," I said.
Steven and Amanda's wedding was the talk of the town.
It was held at the legendary six-star hotel downtown.
The venue was the rooftop sky garden banquet hall.
Rumor had it that the place was off-limits to regular folks. Only the absolute VIPs ever got in.
I didn't go, but my social media feed was flooded with posts about it.
Our mutual friend, who was also my friend, posted a grid of nine photos and videos.
Amanda was decked out in a million-dollar custom wedding dress, and her rock-sized diamond ring was so blinding that it could make anyone dizzy.
Steven was rocking a crisp white suit, looking sharp and handsome, his eyes shining with that lost-and-found love.
Thirty tables packed to the brim, guests everywhere. It was a full house.
Every table was stacked with top-shelf imported liquor, and every guest walked away with designer perfume as a wedding favor.
Fresh flowers covered the path from the entrance to the stage, making the whole place feel like something out of a fairy tale.
Steven's mom, Rosa Taylor, was dressed to the nines in a glittering cheongsam, dripping with jewels.
She was holding Amanda's arm, making the rounds from table to table, toasting everyone with a grin that wouldn't quit.
Rosa gushed, "Now this is the kind of daughter-in-law I've always wanted.
"Steven's finally found his true love.
"She's not like some woman, sitting there taking up space and having no kids."
She said it loud enough for everyone at the table to catch every word.
In the video, everyone looked embarrassed.
Steven's sister, Paulina Taylor, streamed the entire wedding live on her socials.
The title read: [My brother Steven and my gorgeous new sister-in-law Amanda are a match made in heaven.]
She made sure to show off all the luxury decor, bragging the whole time.
She beamed. "See? This is what real love looks like. Steven paid for everything.
"Amanda doesn't have to worry about a thing. She only needs to look pretty and enjoy herself.
"Swiping Steven's card is next-level."