Chapter 1
Jane Atkinson stood in the midst of the glamorous party hall, feeling like she didn't belong at all.
Today was the tenth anniversary of her husband Daley Atkinson's company, and as his wife, she was supposed to be hosting the event.
But the glass of champagne in her hand remained untouched from start to finish.
No one bothered to strike up a conversation with her. Everyone deliberately steered clear, making their way to the real center of attention, her husband, and his adorable assistant, Naomi.
Daley was dressed in a custom-tailored suit, tall and handsome, the most striking figure in the room.
He was leaning in slightly, listening intently to Naomi, wearing a gentle smile Jane had never seen directed at her.
Jane's heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, the pain so heavy it was hard to breathe.
Three years of marriage, and all she'd ever seen from him was that impatient frown and the same old line, "Can't you be more sensible?"
Jane wondered what being sensible meant to him.
It meant that when Daley made oatmeal for Naomi because she had a stomachache, Jane couldn't even say, "I'm not feeling well today, too."
It meant that when Daley pulled all-nighters at work for Naomi, Jane couldn't even call him to ask when he'd be home.
It meant that when Daley gave all his patience and tenderness to Naomi, Jane had to keep up the act of being his wife.
Jane always thought she could keep up the act until now.
A startled cry tore through the illusion of harmony.
Naomi's wine glass slipped from her hand, and a flood of red wine splashed across Daley's expensive white suit, blooming into a vivid, blood-red stain.
The entire hall froze in silence.
"I'm so sorry, Mr. Atkinson. I didn't mean to." Naomi's eyes turned red, tears spilling down her cheeks like a broken string of pearls.
She looked so fragile, anyone would want to protect her.
Jane stood there, watching quietly.
Not even a hint of annoyance crossed Daley's face. Instead, he immediately pulled out a tissue, not to wipe his own suit, but to carefully wipe the wine off Naomi's hand.
His voice was gentler than Jane had ever heard, almost tender.
"Clumsy girl, did it burn you?" Daley asked, his tone full of concern.
Naomi shook her head, but her tears only streamed down harder. "I stained your suit. Jane picked it out for you. I'm sure it's really valuable."
As she spoke, she glanced nervously at Jane, as if hoping for her forgiveness.
Everyone's attention snapped to Jane.
Some looked at her with sympathy, some eager for the spectacle, but most didn't bother to hide their ridicule.
Only then did Daley seem to remember her existence. He looked up, his gaze cutting through the crowd, his brows furrowing as usual.
"Jane, come here," he said.
His voice left no room for argument. It was a command, not a request.
Jane's grip on her glass tightened, her knuckles turning white.
She walked over, her high heels clicking crisply on the polished marble floor, each step landing like a blow to her own heart.
Daley shot her a warning look as he spoke. "Naomi didn't mean it, so don't blame her. Take her to the lounge and help her clean up. Don't embarrass us here."
With a few words, he pinned the blame on her.
He blamed Jane for not being sensible and for supposedly blaming an assistant for a harmless accident.
Jane echoed the words in her mind.
She wondered who was really the one embarrassing themselves.
Jane stared at the blood-red stain on Daley's chest. It looked like the wounds her heart that had been suffering for the past three years.
She couldn't help but find it ridiculous.
Jane said, her voice eerily calm, "Mr. Atkinson, she's your assistant, not mine.
"Do I look like someone who'd bite her head off? Do you really need to shield her from me like that?"
Daley was stunned.
He never expected Jane, who had always been so obedient, to stand up to him in front of the entire crowd.
Naomi's tears streamed down even faster. She clung to Daley's sleeve, sobbing in a small voice, "Mr. Atkinson, please don't blame Jane.
"It's all my fault. Jane is probably mad at me because I've taken up too much of your time."
Those words really hit where it hurt most.
She painted Jane as nothing but a jealous, petty woman.
Daley's face darkened completely. He looked at Jane, his eyes full of disappointment and impatience.
"Jane, are you done making a scene? This is the company's tenth anniversary party. Do you really have to embarrass me here?" he snapped.
"Me? Embarrass you?" Jane let out a cold laugh, but there was no warmth in her eyes. "Daley, be honest with yourself. Who's really been making you look bad these past three years?"
She stared him down, catching the flicker of shock and guilt in his eyes.
She was done pretending.
All those lonely nights waiting for him, all the disappointment from his careless words, all the judgmental looks from others, right now, it all became the last straw.
Jane said, "You're my husband, and with everyone watching, the first thing you worry about is your assistant, not me.
"You're so afraid I'll make things difficult for her that you feel the need to warn me in front of everyone, telling me to 'be sensible.'
"Daley, what do you take me for? some emotionless ornament and a trophy wife who does nothing but smile?"
Her voice wasn't loud, but every word landed with force, clear and undeniable.
The whole party hall fell so silent you could hear a pin drop.
Daley's face turned ashen, caught between shock and embarrassment. He'd never seen Jane so assertive before.
Daley snapped, his face flushed with anger and embarrassment. "What are you talking about? There's nothing between Naomi and me. She's my assistant, that's all!"
"Is that so?" Jane let out a cold, mocking laugh, her gaze fixed on the vivid red stain across his chest.
She said, "I went to three different designer boutiques and spent two weeks hunting that suit down for you.
"Your assistant managed to ruin it in seconds with a single glass of wine.
"And now you want me to take her to the lounge, so you won't be embarrassed in front of everyone.
She took a deep breath, as if trying to let out all the frustration she'd been holding inside.
"Sorry, but I can't accept being humiliated like that," Jane said.
With that, she turned away, not bothering with Daley's sour face or Naomi's tearful act.
She walked off with unwavering resolve, her back straight like a warrior marching into battle.
The guests in the party hall instinctively parted to let her through, every face stunned in disbelief.
As Jane stepped out through the grand, gilded doors, the cold night air hit her face, and for the first time in ages, she felt truly alive again.
She didn't go home. That place wasn't home anymore.
She called a cab and headed back to the little apartment she'd lived in before she got married.
When she opened the door, a wave of dust and memories from the past hit her.
She slipped off her high heels, which had been rubbing her feet raw, and walked barefoot across the floor.
From the cabinet, she dug out a jewelry box she hadn't opened in forever. Inside, a simple platinum ring rested there, untouched.
It was her wedding ring.
By the time Jane got back to that gilded cage she called home, it was already late at night.
Daley still wasn't back.
Jane was fine with that.
She walked into the closet, pulled out a suitcase, and packed only her daily essentials and important papers.
As for all those designer purses and pricey jewelry, she left them all untouched.
Those were for "Mrs. Atkinson," not for Jane herself.
Once she was done, she walked into the living room and set the platinum ring down on the coffee table, right where it couldn't be missed.
At 2 a.m., the door creaked open, breaking the silence of the house.
Daley was back.
He walked in, reeking of alcohol and a faint hint of women's perfume, his steps unsteady.
He moved straight through the living room, passing the coffee table without so much as a glance at the ring glinting softly in the dim light.
Jane sat in the shadows opposite the sofa, quietly watching him.
She watched as he acted like nothing was wrong, tiredly loosening his tie and getting ready to head upstairs for the night.
as he was about to step onto the stairs, Jane finally spoke, her voice cutting through the silence of the house.
"Daley."
Daley stopped in his tracks.
He turned around, his impatience obvious. "It's the middle of the night. Why aren't you asleep? What do you want now?"
Jane stood up from the shadows, walking slowly into the light.
Her face was blank, her eyes dead calm, like a stagnant pool.
She looked at him, her voice steady and crystal clear.
"Let's get a divorce," Jane said.