Chapter 1

Everyone in the Bay Society knew I was renowned for my patience as Lucas Grant's first wife, heir to the Bay Society. His countless affairs stretched from Kingston District to Riverside Quarter, yet I never once raised my voice to him.

And what he gave me in return was the certainty that, no matter how wild he got out there, my place as his first wife was rock solid and untouchable.

Until one day, he brought home a girl who bore an uncanny resemblance to my sister. That was the moment I realized my happy days were numbered.

Sure enough, as soon as he walked in with a cigarette dangling from his lips, he gave me a cold, heartless look and said, "Lily's young and easily embarrassed. She doesn't want to be called a homewrecker or have people talking behind her back.

"You move out and let her stay here. Once the paparazzi start treating her like my real wife, I'll find her another place."

I put down the scissors, looked at the timid girl standing behind him, and let out a laugh. "Why make it so complicated? Let's get a divorce."

Lucas said this with a cigarette hanging from his lips, leaning against the doorframe, looking for all the world like he was casually telling a servant to straighten up the guest room.

I set down the scissors in my hand.

The pothos I'd bought the day I moved in five years ago was on its last legs, and I was about to trim it.

But then, I looked at the girl behind him.

She was in her early twenties, pale and delicate in a white dress. She hid timidly behind him, peeking at me with a careful, almost nervous curiosity.

She reminded me a little of my sister, Jean Shaw, who'd been gone for five years.

I suddenly laughed.

"Why bother with all this? "I tossed the scissors onto the coffee table. "Let's get a divorce."

Lucas was stunned.

Lily, the girl behind him, was stunned too.

The living room fell silent for three seconds.

Then Lucas took the cigarette out of his mouth, frowned at me, and said, "Why are you being dramatic?"

I'm not being dramatic.

I'm exhausted today.

My clothing brand was having its launch event today. I'd been up since four in the morning, hadn't even had a sip of water.

And just as I got home to change and rush to the venue, I found him standing in my living room with some girl, telling me to get lost.

"167 million dollars," I said. "Hand it over, I'll sign the divorce papers, and you can bring her in."

Lucas's frown deepened.

He probably thought I was joking.

After all, who was I, Nina Shaw, to him, really?

Five years ago, after my sister who was set to marry him died, my parents got desperate to keep the Grant Family ties and shoved me into the marriage instead.

Back then, he looked at me like I was something you could buy off a shelf. Actually, that's not even right. At least those things have a price. Hell, I didn't even cost a dime.

For the past five years, he'd been living it up from Westgate to Central Square, and his list of rumored girlfriends could fill the map from Kingston District to Riverside Quarter.

Meanwhile, I was working my ass off to pay tuition, designing nonstop, hustling through fabric markets, and turning my studio that started with only two thousand dollars in capital into a brand now worth one hundred million dollars.

Even when I was in college, he never gave me a single cent.

He probably thought I was like my parents, chasing after the Grant family's fortune, so he didn't want to spend a dime on me.