Chapter 1

Andrew Johnson was touch-starved, but his wife, Olivia Lawrence, was a hardcore germaphobe, always keeping her distance and refusing any intimacy.

If he so much as brushed against her, she'd go through half a bottle of hand sanitizer.

If he kissed her, she'd scrub her teeth raw—ten times over.

One time, he pretended to be drunk and crawled into her bed. She threw him out, sheets and all, like yesterday's trash.

She stared down at him with the kind of contempt one would reserve for something dirty that wouldn't come off. "Seriously, are you just that thirsty?"

Her icy words hit him like a slap, leaving him trembling inside.

Three years of marriage, and he'd tried everything, but nothing worked. She was like a rock, never budging.

At his lowest, he'd secretly hold on to her worn underwear just for a shred of comfort, feeling like some kind of pervert.

Andrew finally stopped fighting it. He turned and went back to his study to print out the divorce papers he'd had on standby for ages.

He was about to head to the guest room to get her signature when he saw Olivia step out of the bedroom and march straight toward the studio at the end of the hallway.

The studio, lined with Olivia's handmade sculptures, was suddenly alive with the unmistakable sound of her moans echoing out.

*****

Before Olivia took over Lawrence & Co., she was a sculptor. Whenever she was home, she practically lived in her studio.

Even on their wedding night, that was where she holed up.

She'd marked the studio as strictly off-limits.

Even Andrew, her own husband, was banned from stepping inside.

Even if he tried to crack a joke or ask a few casual questions about the prohibition, she'd instantly shut him down, her expression turning icy.

Andrew dreaded making her unhappy, so even though he was burning with curiosity, he could only keep his distance and avoid her studio altogether.

But they were getting divorced anyway. Andrew thought he might as well break the rules for once.

He had to see what had gotten her so hooked. Curiosity and stubbornness bubbled up inside him.

Andrew instinctively slowed his steps, quietly trailing behind her.

Andrew pressed his eye to the narrow gap in the door, curiosity burning, and nearly jumped out of his skin at what he saw. His eyes went wide, and he had to clamp down hard on the back of his hand to keep from crying out loud.

The studio was lined with sculptures, each piece occupying its own silent corner.

All the statues were covered with layers of white silk, their true forms hidden, hinting at secrets beneath.

Olivia stood still before a statue that was as tall as a person.

Her usually cold and elegant face showed a mix of embarrassment and desire as she kissed the statue's lips through the white silk.

Her body gently swayed, moving against the statue's base in a slow, yearning rhythm.

Olivia's voice, once cold and distant, was now tangled up with longing and sweetness, every note laced with pure desire.

She kept whispering, "Ethan... I want you... I want you..."

With each of her movements, the white silk slipped away, unveiling the statue's face, which was strikingly handsome and unmistakable.

Andrew's heart stopped. He recognized him instantly. It was Olivia's brother-in-law, Ethan Parker.

So she wasn't frigid after all. She had just poured every scrap of desire into the one man she could never have.

Andrew couldn't take it anymore. Clutching the divorce papers, he stumbled out of the studio in silence, completely shaken.

The faint moans from the studio drifted in and out of his ears, impossible to ignore.

Olivia spent the night locked away inside, while Andrew sat frozen on the couch downstairs, wide awake and staring at nothing.

It wasn't until the next morning that Olivia hurried downstairs.

Seeing Andrew, she didn't break stride. With that same frosty tone, she said, "I'm heading to the estate."

Ethan was there. Of course he was.

Back then, Andrew never understood why she kept running back there, and now, he finally had the answer.

Andrew's eyes were puffy and red, but he gave a bitter, sarcastic grin.

He called after her, shoving the papers in her direction. "Olivia, just sign it."

Olivia stopped, frowning like she didn't have time for this. She was about to check the papers when her phone suddenly rang.

Not even glancing at the papers, she took the pen and signed her name without a second thought.

Her finger brushed over the tears on his signature, and she wrinkled her nose, visibly annoyed.

After signing her name, Olivia grabbed a sanitizing wipe, rubbed her hands clean, and hurried out of the villa without a second glance.

Andrew just stood there in silence, watching her vanish, tears rolling down his cheeks as he crumpled the divorce papers in his hands.

He walked straight out and made his way to his lawyer.

The lawyer replied, "I'll call you once the divorce has been finalized. You can arrange to pick up the court-issued divorce decree at the law office."

Andrew nodded, his eyes rimmed with red.

Just thirty days left, and she would finally be free.