Chapter 1

Richard Langley wanted to divorce me.

The reason was simple. He had fallen in love with a twenty-two-year-old woman.

When I heard that number, I was clutching the divorce papers and froze for a few seconds. "Twenty-two?"

Richard looked up at me. "Mia, this has nothing to do with age."

My tears started falling harder.

This had nothing to do with age? Then why not pick someone who was forty-two?

I turned thirty last week.

Richard cut the cake himself. He gave me a diamond necklace and said it looked great on me.

Seven days later, he fell for a girl eight years younger than me.

Men's promises really didn't last overnight. They spoiled fast.

I sniffled. "Is she prettier than me?"

Richard frowned slightly. "That's not the issue."

"So it's because she's younger," I said.

"Mia, enough." His tone grew a little heavier.

I shut up right away, mostly because I didn't want to annoy him.

After all, the papers weren't signed yet.

Richard was loaded. And he was all about keeping up appearances.

We had been married for six years, and now that he was leaving me, he was not about to kick me out with nothing.

He was giving me a 3,000-square-foot luxury apartment downtown, a beachfront villa, and 20 million dollars in cash.

And all the jewelry, cars, and funds that were already in my name stay with me.

After the lawyer finished reading, my sobbing eased up a little without me realizing it.

Richard glanced at me.

I quickly grabbed another tissue and cranked up the waterworks again.

It was not that I was pathetic. 20 million dollars is a lot.

If I had to make that kind of money myself, I'd probably need a whole extra lifetime and a miracle.

"If you have any other requests, say the word." Richard leaned back on the couch.

He was a man in his forties, broad‑shouldered and long-legged, with deep, striking features.

He'd taken good care of himself over the years.

One would never guess he was ten years older than me.

No wonder a twenty-two-year-old girl would fall for him.

The more I thought about it, the worse I felt. "Can't you like me a little more?"

He stayed silent.

I understood.

I couldn't hold back my tears anymore.

This time, it really broke my heart.

We had been married for six years.

I knew every detail about our home, from the color of the curtains to where he kept his ties. I could find everything even with my eyes closed.

I always thought that even if everyone else in the world got tired of me, Richard never would.

Because back when he was courting me, he promised, "Mia, I can take care of you for the rest of your life."

It turned out that he really could provide for me. But that didn't mean he wanted to keep me forever.

I signed the papers.

Richard paused for a moment. He probably didn't expect me to sign so quickly. "You sure you don't want to take another look?"

"It's not like the money's going to magically increase," I said.

As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted it.

I looked up, my eyes red from crying. "What I mean is, looking at it again won't change your mind."

Richard froze for a moment, then rubbed his temples. "You don't have to rush to move out. You can still use the driver and everyone at home."

I nodded.

"If you need anything, reach out to Liam," he added.

I nodded again.

"Don't try to tough it out by yourself," he said.

My tears started falling again. "I know."

Richard looked at me for a while, but in the end, he didn't say anything else.

He got up and left.

The front door closed behind him.

I sat on the couch and cried for about five minutes.

Then I wiped my tears and picked up my phone.

I sent a message to Samantha Reed. [Got any young hotties over there?]

Samantha replied in a flash. [What? Who is this?]

I typed back. [Mia.]

Samantha: [I know it's you, Mia. What's gotten into you?]

I glanced at the divorce papers on the coffee table. [Richard's fallen for someone else.]

There was a ten-second pause on her end. Then she called me directly.

I didn't pick up. I kept typing: [She is twenty-two.]

Samantha: [What are you trying to do?]

I thought about it for a moment. [I'm only trying to move on.]

[How?]

[If he can go for someone younger, why can't I?]

Samantha went quiet again.

Half a minute later, she asked: [How young?]

I pursed my lips. [Under twenty-five, thanks.]