Chapter 3

I never expected Edward to show up at my door—with his new mistress.

The night before, I'd stayed up way too late playing games. My gaming partner had one of those voices that could melt butter, kept teasing me into playing "just one more round," and before I knew it, I'd dropped a few too many paid orders. By the time I snapped out of it, it was three in the morning.

When I finally woke up, he'd already messaged me again: [Emily, you up? Want to play today?]

I didn't reply.

I was sick of that voice and definitely needed to find a new partner next time.

Still half-asleep, I went downstairs to find something to eat—only to see two people standing by the window, clinging to each other and pretending the scenery was the most fascinating thing in the world.

Wait. Who the hell—?

I instinctively pulled out my phone, ready to call the cops, when Edward's voice cut through the air, sharp and impatient. "What are you doing here?"

Excuse me? What was I doing here? Classic move—accuse first, confuse later. It almost worked.

I pointed at myself. "Me? This is my house, Man."

He blinked, like he'd just remembered something, and frowned. "Sophia's pregnant. She needs peace. You should give her this house."

He said it like he was suggesting what to have for lunch.

Sure, the house was perfect—tucked away in the suburbs, peaceful, with a view of mountains and a stream. A few steps out the door and you'd see a landscape painting come to life.

Funny thing, though—he'd given me this place years ago after my miscarriage, called it compensation.

And now? He wanted to turn it into his mistress's maternity retreat.

So who taught him these tricks anyway? Guy had seriously got his own playbook for scheming.

I cut him off before he could say more. "No."

He stared at me for a long time before finally speaking again. "I've been thinking about what you said last time."

It had been so long since I'd last spoken to him that I actually had to pause and think. "What did I say?"

He let out a bitter laugh, clearly annoyed. "A child."

"I do need an heir," he said matter-of-factly. "Someone to inherit the family business. But the Rivers heir must be legitimate—born in wedlock."

Then he reached out and stroked Sophia's silky golden hair. "Luckily, she's pregnant."

Only then did I really look at the new mistress, also a newly risen starlet.

She was stunning, of course. According to the info Chloe had sent me, Sophia was the classic struggling artist type—could sing, dance, act—but never quite broke through. So she reinvented herself to be an actress.

Her looks? Nothing close to her original face. She'd gladly go under the knife just to keep fans happy, and honestly, each tweak only made her more stunning.

Her blond hair literally sparkled in the sunlight, all golden from root to tip, not a trace of black roots to be seen.

She was the kind of beauty who'd throw caution to the wind and chase after what she wanted without a second thought.

Honestly, the bolder someone was, the more of a headache they were to deal with.

Still, between Edward and me, there was never any other enemy.

Just the two of us—locked in a private war.

I sighed, "Let's talk alone."

Bringing his pregnant mistress here was like a kid throwing a tantrum for attention.

No wonder people said male psychology was just child psychology with better suits.

But seriously, he was almost thirty. Who had the patience to babysit a grown man?

He just tightened his hold on Sophia and said, "She's not an outsider."

Oh, so she was not an outsider. Guess that made me one, huh?

I sat down on the couch, crossing my legs calmly. "So, you want a divorce?"

He nodded. "I need a legitimate child—and a wife who can stand beside me in public."

So basically, I was not the kind of wife he could parade around, huh?

I smiled, "Sure, you can divorce me."

Edward pulled a strained grin, all awkward tension, while I stayed cool and kept going. "But I'm not agreeing to it."

He clearly didn't expect that answer from me. His reaction was almost explosive. "You don't agree? What gives you the right to disagree?"

I raised a brow. "Because I've been a dutiful wife from day one. Because I've kept myself clean and faithful. Edward, no matter how you look at it, I'm not the one at fault here. Do you really think you can get that divorce?"

His composure cracked. "Fine. Then I'll take it to court."

I nodded, unbothered. "Suit yourself."

Even if he filed today, the process would take ages—and frankly, I wasn't sure he'd live long enough to see it through. Did he really think I'd be scared?

He tried to reason with me, voice tight. "Our marriage shouldn't have happened in the first place. Neither of our families approved. We were never a match."

Oh, now he realized that? He only learned to steer after he slammed into a wall, only jumped into the stock market once it was already blown up, and only bothered wiping your nose when it was practically dripping into your mouth. He regretted it now? Regret always came late, didn't it?

Once upon a time, he said things like, "I love you, and there's nothing in this world that could stop me from being with you."

"Leave my parents to me. Let's just get our marriage license right now."

"Emily, I promise I'll treat you right. I don't need you to bring me any resources or social standing. Just stay with me and I'll give you everything."

I thought I'd long forgotten those tooth-rotting sweet lines, but turns out I still remember them word for word—along with the flutter I felt when he said them.

God, how naive.

I had been, and so was he.

"You don't need to bring up the past, Edward," I said coolly. "In a marriage, we're supposed to be equals."

He fell silent.

I leaned back, voice steady. "But I guess things aren't so equal anymore, are they? After all, I've got proof of your affair."

I pointed toward the security camera in the living room.

He followed my gaze, his expression darkening immediately.

That camera was only meant to keep an eye on my cat when I was out—but today, it had outdone itself.

And that was not the only evidence I had. Chloe had some, Claire too.

I once planned to use it all as leverage for the divorce. Now, I would use it to make sure he couldn't have one.

Every last cent of that inheritance would end up in my hands.