Chapter 3
After Charlotte was shown the door, I knelt down and nervously gathered the broken bracelet pieces.
I fixed my gaze on the floor, not daring to meet Samuel's eyes as my mind spun in a frantic whirl.
[What the hell is wrong with him today? Instead of ganging up on me with his precious Charlotte, he actually kicked her out?]
[Did he suddenly grow a conscience? Impossible. That guy wouldn't know a conscience if it smacked him in the face.]
[Oh, I get it—he must've cringed at Charlotte's terrible acting. That's gotta be it.]
[Damn, that bracelet cost a fortune, and now it's rubble. If his mom finds out, I'm dead. No way I'm taking the blame for this.]
While scrambling to figure out how to dodge responsibility, I put on my most devastated voice.
"Sam, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault—I couldn't hold onto it. What if your mom asks about it?"
"It's just a bracelet," Samuel cut me off, his tone flat.
I looked up and met his eyes—deep and inscrutable.
He'd just repeated the exact line I'd been rehearsing in my head, but the way he said it felt completely wrong.
No reassurance, no defending Charlotte—just this unnerving calm that made my stomach drop.
"Leave it. I'll take care of it," he said.
Then he turned and walked back to his study, slamming the door behind him.
I froze, staring at that closed door, a chill creeping up my spine.
His reaction was totally off-script.
For the next few days, Samuel barely spoke a word.
He stopped giving me those weird looks, but the tension at home thickened.
Most of the time, he locked himself in his study for a whole day.
Finally, some peace! I spent my days treating myself—shopping, spa trips—counting down until our deal was done. Honestly, I was walking on air.
That night, I came out of the bathroom humming. Passing the study, I noticed the door was ajar with a dim light inside.
Curious, I leaned in to see what Samuel was doing.
Through the crack, I spotted him at his desk, absorbed in some document.
The desk lamp cast shadows across his handsome face, making him look even more mysterious.
That document looked familiar.
I squinted for a better look, and my heart nearly stopped.
Wait—wasn't that the marriage agreement we'd signed three years ago?
Why was he digging that up now?
My breath caught, and every hair on my body stood on end.
[Damn it, what's he planning?]
[Why pull out the agreement now when we're so close to the finish line? Is he trying to back out? Does he think he can cheat me out of the villa and my 20 million?]
[I knew it! Rich bastards are all the same—Samuel, if you try to screw me over, I'll burn this whole place down!]
I wanted to burst in there, grab him by the collar, and demand answers.
But confronting him now would only hurt me.
I took a deep breath, swallowed my rage, and quietly backed away to my room to strategize.
Suddenly, Samuel moved in the study.
He slowly lifted his head, and in the dim hallway, our eyes locked—catching me completely off guard.
His gaze held something I'd never seen before... complete devastation.
Yes. Total devastation.
Like a shattered mirror reflecting shock, pain, and bitter self-mockery.
He gripped the agreement, his voice rough as he asked, "Vivian, these three years... were you just acting?"
My heart sank hard.
[Shit, did he figure it out?]
[Wait, how could he find out? He's always known what was in that agreement, hasn't he?]
I forced myself to stay calm and quickly put on that confused, innocent look he always fell for.
"Sam, what are you talking about? What acting?"
I carefully pushed the door open and walked over, my eyes welling up on cue.
"I... I don't understand."
Samuel's eyes stayed locked on me the entire walk toward him.
Watching my flawless performance, he suddenly laughed.
That laugh was full of pain and self-mockery.
He slammed the agreement onto the desk.
"You don't understand?" he said, eyes red-rimmed. "Vivian, do you really want to leave me that badly?"
[Obviously! Why would I hang around being used by you and your precious Charlotte? No thanks.]
[Three more months. Just three! Freedom and a fat paycheck are right around the corner—no way I'm screwing this up now!]
While giving myself a mental pep talk, I put on my most trembling voice, pouring on fake sincerity. "Sam, I don't understand why you're suddenly saying this.
"I love you. Why would I ever want to leave you? Unless... unless you don't want me anymore."
As I finished, a perfectly timed tear slid down my cheek.
I figured my act would get the usual response—annoyance and contempt.
But this time, the light in his eyes faded the instant I finished speaking.