Chapter 2

After that, Ronnie and I had an unspoken agreement not to mention that kiss again, acting as if nothing had ever happened.

He went about his days as usual, and I did the same with my work. We were still polite when we saw each other.

But something had changed. I couldn't put it into words, but there was a subtle shift, like an invisible thread tying something together between us.

*****

Three years flew by.

According to our prenuptial agreement, this marriage was valid for three years.

On the day the three years ended, our third wedding anniversary, either of us could choose to continue the marriage or to end it with a divorce.

I chose to get a divorce.

It wasn't because of him or because I had someone else. It was simply because I didn't want to keep up the act anymore.

This marriage had been a business deal from the start, and when the deal was done, it should end.

I had paid back every cent the Anderson family had given us. My company had earned a large sum of money.

Every dollar of the living allowance he had given me over three years remained completely untouched, and all these funds combined added up to the exact full amount.

It was two in the afternoon when I printed out the divorce papers. Ronnie wasn't home.

He had an important board meeting that day that would run late into the evening. I sent him a text. [Are you free tonight? We need to talk about something.]

He replied almost instantly: [What is it?]

I sent back: [Let's talk in person.]

Ronnie answered: [Fine. Nine o'clock, at home.]

I put my phone down, slipped the divorce papers into a folder, and left it on the coffee table.

Then I started packing my things. I wasn't moving out right away, but I wanted to sort through my belongings and pick out what was mine.

I opened the closet, took out my clothes one by one, folded them up, and stacked them in my suitcase.

Three years in, I still didn't own much. Most of my things fit into a single suitcase.

At the very back of the closet hung a custom designer coat I had picked up on a business trip to Eldoria the year before.

I had bought it as a birthday gift for Ronnie, but I never found the right time to give it to him. I had forgotten about it after that.

I picked it up and looked at it for a moment, hesitated, then folded it and put it in the suitcase anyway.

*****

At eight thirty that night, I took a shower, changed into a set of loungewear, and went downstairs to wait for him.

Ronnie walked in right at nine o'clock. He carried a hint of the cool night air, his suit jacket slung over his arm, shirt cuffs unbuttoned and casually rolled up.

When he spotted me sitting on the couch in the living room, he looked a little taken aback.

"You're still waiting for me?" Ronnie asked.

"Yeah," I replied, nodding at the folder on the coffee table. "Got something to discuss."

Ronnie walked over and sat down on the couch, not too close or too far from me. He set his suit jacket aside, picked up the folder, opened it, and pulled out the papers inside.

As he read the first page, his expression didn't change.

When he got to the second page, his fingers stilled for a second.

When he finished the third page, he set the papers down and looked up at me.

The living room lights lit up Ronnie's features clearly: his sharp brows, strong nose bridge, thin lips, and the clean, angular line of his jaw.

Objectively speaking, Ronnie was very handsome, the kind of man who turned heads wherever he went.

"You want a divorce?" Ronnie asked, his voice flat, giving nothing away.

"Yeah," I said. "Three years are up. The agreement is clear. Either of us can choose to end the marriage. I'm choosing to end it."

He said nothing. He looked at me, his gaze heavy.

"Are you sure about this?" Ronnie asked.

"I've thought it through," I said. "I've written out all the terms in the agreement. I don't want your money, your house, or anything else.

"I haven't touched a cent of the money in the account you gave me over the three years. You can check the balance if you want. I'm only taking what belongs to me."

My voice was calm as I spoke, as if I were discussing a deal that was already signed and sealed.

Ronnie was silent for a long time.

Then he said something I never could have expected.

"In such a hurry? Do you have someone else waiting? What if I say no?" he said.

I frowned. "There's no one else. This arrangement just doesn't make sense anymore."

"Then there's even less reason to get a divorce," Ronnie said.

The living room went quiet for about three seconds.

I stared at him, trying to find any hint that he was joking. There was none. His expression was serious, so serious that I barely recognized him.

I said, "Ronnie, you were the one who wrote the prenup. You were the one who said we would keep our lives separate.

"You were the one who set the three-year term. Now that the three years are up, you're telling me you won't divorce?"

"That's right," he said. "No divorce."

"Why?" I asked.

Ronnie looked at me. His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he said, "There's no reason."

I almost laughed in disbelief.

"Ronnie, do you think I'm easy to push around? You wrote the agreement. Do you think you can decide to divorce or not whenever you feel like it?" I shot back.

He didn't answer. Instead, he picked up the divorce papers from the table and slowly tore them up right in front of me.

Ronnie tore them in half, stacked the pieces, and tore them again.

He kept going until the tiny scraps of paper fell from between his fingers onto the coffee table and the carpet.

Watching him tear up the papers, I felt something I couldn't even name. It wasn't anger, more like a sense of ridiculousness.

This was the same man who'd bought me like a commodity three years prior, tossed me a card and a house, then gone off to party and live his life as he pleased.

For three years, he flaunted other women right in front of me, and I never said a word, because that was our arrangement. Now that the deal was over, I wanted to leave, and he wouldn't let me.

What gave him the right?

"Fine," I said, standing up. "You don't want a divorce? Then I'll move out. Let's see how you like being married all by yourself."

I turned and headed for the stairs. I had only taken two steps when someone grabbed my wrist from behind.

His grip was tight. It didn't hurt, but I couldn't break free.

"Emery," Ronnie said from behind me, his voice low, with a tone I had never heard from him before. "We've still got six months left. Why are you in such a hurry?"

I turned to look at him.

He was standing at the bottom of the stairs, and I was on the third step, so we were eye to eye.

The light was behind him, casting his face in shadow, but I could see his eyes. Those usually cold, detached eyes held a flicker of something I could not name.

"What six months?" I asked.

Ronnie said, "The contract still has six months left. You remembered it wrong. The agreement says three and a half years, not three."

I froze.

"No way. I clearly remember it was three years," I said.

"Go check the original contract," Ronnie said. "The signature page says three and a half years."

I stared into his eyes, searching for any sign he was lying. But his expression was so genuine, it made me doubt myself for a second.

"Ronnie, you're lying," I said.

"Go check the original contract," Ronnie replied.

I shook off his hand, hurried upstairs, and rushed into the study.

I opened the safe and pulled out the prenup I had stashed there myself. I flipped to the last page and found the clause I needed.

It was written in black and white, clear as day: [This marriage agreement is valid for three years and six months, starting from the date both parties sign.

[When the term ends, both parties may decide to continue the marriage or dissolve it.]

It was indeed three years and six months.

I stared at those words for a long time, my mind spinning. I could've sworn it was three years when I first read it.

But the words were right in front of me. Had I misread them? Or had something else happened?

I turned around. Ronnie had followed me upstairs at some point and was leaning against the study door, his hands in his pockets, watching me.

"I didn't lie to you," he said.

I put the agreement back in the safe, locked it up, and stood up.

I said, "It's only six months. We have to put on a show of our relationship falling apart anyway, don't we?

"I can move out now. You don't have to worry about your reputation. You can put all the blame on me."

"You're not going anywhere," Ronnie said. "The security system in this house was just upgraded. I had them wipe your fingerprints and facial recognition from the system."

I stared at him, completely stunned.

"Ronnie, have you lost your mind?" I said.

"Maybe," he replied, sounding as casual as if he were talking about the weather. "But tonight, you're staying right here."

I took a deep breath, fighting the urge to throw something.

"Fine," I said. "Six months it is. After that, we're done."

Ronnie was quiet for a moment, then said something that sent a chill down my spine. "Six months from now, we'll see."