Chapter 3

"Rachel, don't make a scene here. Most of the people in this room are important business partners of mine," he snapped.

"You're making me look bad. If you walk away now, I'll let it slide and keep your card active. But if you don't, don't expect a single dollar from me ever again," he warned, his voice sharp with anger.

His face was red with anger.

Vivian cozied up to him, pouring fuel on the fire.

Vivian said, "Mike, sometimes I honestly think you deserve better. You're so talented, so young, running a massive company.

"But sigh, Mrs. Quinn is only good at spending your money—she's completely useless otherwise. Honestly, I almost feel bad for you," Vivian added, her words dripping with mockery.

I looked up, my gaze cold as ice.

"You sound like you really care about my husband," I said, my voice laced with sarcasm.

Vivian paused, then put on a loving expression.

Vivian said, "Yes, I admire Mr. Quinn. I'd rather do everything I can to support him and help him succeed.

"Unlike some people, who shamelessly freeload off him without a second thought.

Not only are they freeloaders, but they have zero shame, making Mr. Quinn look bad in front of everyone."

I let out a cold laugh. "Wow, you really think you're some kind of saint, huh? But the guy you're chasing is already married. Isn't it a bit cheap to be so blatant about it?"

"Rachel, don't take my kindness for granted. Watch your mouth," Michael snapped.

He finally lost it, slamming his hand down on the table.

"Viv is so pure and dedicated. How could you be so vicious and smear her like that? She's nothing like you—you're just a pretty face with no substance. At least know your place," Michael snapped.

"I never loved you. If my dad hadn't been after your family's old money, I wouldn't have married you at all. Besides your looks, what else makes you worthy of me?" Michael continued.

"Don't push me any further, or I'll throw you out today. Without me, you'd have to sell yourself just to survive," he warned.

I stared at Michael's face, twisted with rage, and the last bit of warmth in my heart was completely extinguished.

Back when I agreed to this marriage, it was because I saw the drive and ambition in him during his early days as an entrepreneur. I thought he was different from those spoiled rich kids who only knew how to party and waste money.

But I never expected him to be so stupid, letting a shallow assistant like Vivian Lane wrap him around her finger and embarrass me in front of everyone.

When Michael got mad at me for "smearing" Vivian, a hint of satisfaction flickered in her eyes.

She gave Michael a gentle pat on the back, trying to calm him down.

"Mike, don't be angry. Seeing you upset really hurts me too," Vivian said softly.

Then she shot me a fiery look, her gaze locked onto mine.

"If I win, I don't want your money, and I don't care if you crawl out of here. What I want is his freedom," she said.

My voice was flat. "Freedom? You mean, you want us to get divorced?"

Vivian turned to Michael, her eyes shining with affection and a bold, all-or-nothing resolve.

"Mr. Quinn, I'm willing to fight for your freedom. Are you ready to cut loose from these chains?" she asked.

Michael looked at Vivian's young, charming face, then glanced at the "business partners" around him, all watching the drama unfold.

A surge of vanity and recklessness hit him, as if he were being grilled in front of everyone.

With everyone watching, he slowly nodded.

My hand, resting on my knee, clenched so hard my nails nearly broke the skin, and my chest felt like it was on fire.

So this was what my marriage had come to—a joke.

Someone whistled, and then someone shouted, "Ms. Lane, you're a badass!"

"Go, Ms. Lane! True love conquers all!"

"Mr. Quinn should've gotten out of this marriage ages ago."

"But Mrs. Quinn is pretty hot. If they get divorced, maybe the rest of us can have a taste."

Vivian's eyes gleamed with cunning at that.