Chapter 2
When I saw Andrew again, I showed him Rachel's photo.
He didn't look nearly as nervous as I'd expected.
Instead, he seemed relieved, as if a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders.
At just over thirty, Andrew was at the prime of his looks.
He sat there, calm and elegant, as if he had rehearsed this moment a hundred times.
"Let's get divorced," he finally spoke.
Those words hit me like a ton of bricks.
My vision instantly blurred with unshed tears.
I clenched my fists, struggling to conceal the emotional turmoil within.
Meeting his composure, I remained calm and answered with one single word, "Fine."
Andrew took a deep breath and handed me the prepared divorce agreement.
"We'll split everything equally—the cars, properties, stocks, all of it," he said. "A clean break. That's the best option."
So that was it.
He'd been planning this divorce all along.
So silly of me, on my way here, I had actually hoped he could give me a satisfying explanation.
I'd even been considering whether to forgive his betrayal.
With a bitter laugh, I took over the divorce papers.
Without hesitation, I tore it to shreds.
Andrew glanced at the mess helplessly. When he turned to me, his eyes were full of helplessness and pity.
"Yvonne, what's the point? Even if you burn them, we can never go back to how things were."
Andrew looked away. "Rachel is a good woman, and I can't bear to fail her.
"You won't understand. Rachel is everything I've ever wanted. She's the perfect wife."
He actually thought he could just talk me into letting go.
How ridiculous.
Andrew had always overestimated himself.
How could I ever cling to a scumbag who betrayed me?
"We signed a prenup, remember?" I said. "The cheater walks away with nothing. Don't even try to weasel out of this."
I stared Andrew down and declared, "Make no mistake: we are getting divorced.
"And you won't get a single cent!"
I slid the prenup across the table to Andrew.
The man who had always prided himself on self-control finally showed a hint of emotion.
He frowned, and his lips pressed tightly together.
It seemed Andrew was trying hard to recall the solemn vows he made to me years ago.
Back then, he had said, "Yvonne, you're the only woman I'll ever love.
"If I ever betray you, may I die the most painful death.
"We must sign this prenup. It's a lifelong promise for the love of my life."
Back then, Andrew was young and reckless.
His love had been passionate and unreserved.
I once believed I was the happiest woman alive.
And I truly thought I'd found the best man in the world.
But now...
Rage had dyed his eyes red.
Andrew sprang to his feet, jabbing a finger at my face.
He spat out venomously, "Yvonne, I built this empire from scratch! Giving you half is already more than generous—what the hell are you trying to pull now?
"Sure, Rachel's never as good as you, but look at yourself! You money-grubbing wrench!
"You'd stoop to anything for cash, with no regard for our past! That's exactly why I can't love you anymore!
"Let me make this clear, Yvonne. I love Rachel! I'd rather die if I couldn't have her!"
Andrew snapped, "You want the money? Fine, take it all. I don't care!
"So what if I walk away with nothing? I've already found my soulmate. But mark my words, Yvonne, you'll never meet someone who truly loves you!"
We had known each other for a decade.
Andrew had always been the epitome of composure and gentlemanly grace.
Yet this was the first time he ever lost control in front of me.
All for another woman.
That night, I walked alone through the early March chill.
The icy wind, laced with rain, seeped into my coat.
Not a trace of warmth reached me.
Not far ahead stood a spa salon.
The second I paused at the entrance, an attendant warmly opened the door for me.
Then, he politely escorted me to a private suite.
The heater hummed to life.
My regular therapist smiled warmly and began explaining the latest products and treatments.
I soaked in the perfectly heated natural hot spring, the gentle steam melting away my tension.
Suddenly, the memory of that rainy night came rushing back.
We didn't take a taxi, all just to save a few bucks.
Instead, I was on the back of Andrew's bicycle, arms wrapped tightly around his waist.
So what if we were poor? Love was all we had, and that was enough to make our life wonderful.
But now, love was gone. Why the hell should I walk away empty-handed?
A few hours later, I left the spa salon,
Then, I turned and walked into a nightclub.
Without much hesitation, I spent a fortune on some extra pleasure while drinking.
Soon, a dozen strikingly handsome young men lined up in front of me.
For a moment, my eyes seemed to fool me.
They all looked so much like Andrew in his younger days.
As they whispered my name sweetly, their eyes were full of eagerness and submission.
The sweet nothings they said could melt anyone's heart.
Gradually, these boys lavished me with honeyed affection.
The truth was obvious.
With money, I could have all the love I want—from anyone I choose.
Sure, Andrew no longer loved me.
But really, why would I care? He was just a scumbag.