We stared at each other, neither willing to back down.

Until my vision blurred, he finally sighed.

"You've been by my side all these years. I thought you'd have some understanding of others," he said.

"Reina, you really disappoint me."

His words hit me like a punch to the chest.

My eyelashes trembled, and tears slipped down my cheeks.

For him, I had abandoned the perfect life my parents planned for me. I even learned to cook and manage the household.

I gave up a carefree, indulgent past to force myself into the rigid, tedious world of refinement and elegance.

The thing I had worked hardest at in this life was shaping my entire personality into someone who could stand beside him.

I thought he would feel it, deep down.

But all I received was disappointment.

Nevertheless, I refused to let myself fall apart.

I wiped my tears, retrieved a slightly yellowed document from the study, and tossed it in front of them.

"Then let's get a divorce."

The room fell silent. The man let out a soft, almost mocking laugh. "Put it away. You'll need it again next time."

The ridicule in his voice was like a needle stabbing straight into my ear.

Claire, who had looked embarrassed moments ago, actually laughed aloud upon hearing that.

My nails dug into my palm. The last flicker of light inside me died out.

This agreement... Lyndon had prepared it himself.

Six months into our marriage, he had proposed divorce.

That day had been the darkest in my life.

I had grown up spoiled, sheltered, never knowing how cruel human hearts could be. I couldn't understand why the little tree I nurtured with all my warmth was suddenly withering, even though I had given him enough water, sunlight, and love.

I cried until I couldn't breathe, using both kindness and force to beg him not to divorce me.

In the end, he gave in.

After that, I gave him status, money, resources—the best of everything.

Gradually, I learned to control my emotions.

Slowly, his eyes toward me began to soften.

But my sense of security only dwindled further.

So I took out the divorce agreement again and again.

At first, he coaxed me helplessly.

Later, he would only frown and tell me not to be dramatic.

Now... He still thought I was using it as a ploy to win his affection.

I slid the ring off my finger and tossed it into the trash can.

"There won't be a next time."

Before leaving, I notified Miranda Corporation's lawyers to prepare for the division of assets.

I also had someone come over to tally the clothes and items Claire had damaged and request compensation accordingly.

Once everything was set, I opened the group chat with my friends.

[Tonight at the Red Pavilion. My treat. Who's in?]

The Red Pavilion was New York's most decadent hotspot, infamous for its extravagance.

My message detonated the chat.

[What's going on? Ms. Miranda isn't playing the dutiful wife anymore?]

[Isn't your husband the type who hates you going to places like that?]

[I already took a screenshot. If you back out tonight, I'll send it straight to your iron-faced husband.]

I typed calmly. [Divorce is already in motion.]

A ripple effect exploded through the group chat.

After casually replying to a couple messages, I closed my phone.

Before heading to the Red Pavilion, I stopped by a beauty salon.

With striking makeup, a black backless gown, and heels that clicked like a declaration, I walked into the private room.

My thoughtful friends had even arranged a row of handsome male escort.

I picked one of the male escort—the cleanest-looking, bright-eyed one.

After a few rounds of drinks, the man who had seemed hesitant at first now put on an overly eager, almost flattering demeanor, which left me feeling a little exhausted.

I used the excuse of getting some fresh air, carrying my glass onto the balcony overlooking the entire hall.

Even from a distance, I spotted Lyndon and Claire tucked away in a corner.

Claire, dressed as a waitress, was nestled perfectly in his arms—like she belonged there.

"Claire, what do I have to do to make you quit this job?" Lyndon's voice drifted up faintly. "I've told you before—the water here is too deep. It's too easy for a woman to get hurt."

Her eyes shimmered with tears. "Yes, my job isn't as stable as sitting comfortably in an office," she whispered, "but it supports my life... and my dreams. And I still owe Ms. Miranda money. I can't leave."

"I'll pay it," Lyndon said firmly. "You don't have to worry about—"

Claire suddenly turned her back to him, shoulders shaking delicately as she cried.

"I don't want your money. You know that. I agreed to be your friend... never for money..."

I was still processing this nauseating performance when a voice spoke quietly beside me.

"Miss, don't be fooled by that woman."

I turned. It was the male escort from earlier. His smile was perfectly measured, but I wasn't in the mood to appreciate it.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"That woman... she's skilled. I've seen that man show up three times this month. Every time, she plays the part of the poor and noble one, while slyly making him feel pity and care for her."

"I've seen this a lot. It's the long-game tactic—casting a line for the big catch."

He suddenly looked a little embarrassed. "Miss, I'm not like her. I really like you..."

I took a small sip. "And what about him?"

The escort brightened as if he'd been waiting for that question. "Just putting on a show. Look at his outfit, he's clearly rich. And that ring finger... I've never seen him wear a wedding ring even once."

"He's playing the hero-saving-the-damsel game. Rich men are like that—they eat from one bowl while keeping an eye on another..."

I smirked lightly and tapped his glass with mine.

"Go on. Open a few more bottles—it's on you."

I heard his delighted thanks behind me as I took another sip, but my eyes met Lyndon's across the room.

In the silent exchange, his face darkened gradually.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Can't you tell? Relaxing," I replied lightly.

"Come home with me," he snapped.

I propped my elbows on the glass counter, gesturing behind him. "Your girl ran away."

Claire's small figure disappeared at the end of the corridor. Lyndon hesitated for a moment, then walked toward me.

"I'll send you back."

"No need," I said coolly. "I'm not short of people willing to drive me. Besides... that house doesn't matter to me anymore."

His voice dropped, cold and warning.

"That man you were just with—don't tell me you don't see what kind of person he is."

"What kind of person?" I raised a brow. "If I remember correctly... weren't you that kind of person once?"

He froze.

It was the truth he would never admit—not even on his deathbed.

His face turned completely pale.

Without another word, he turned away and left.

He didn't look back.

After that night, I didn't contact Lyndon again.

And news of our divorce spread quickly.

The division of assets was massive, involving layers of interests and negotiations—it would take time.

While I spent my days partying and living as I pleased... Lyndon wasn't idle either.

Lyndon had helped Claire secure the solo violin performance at the next concert.

When a friend gave me a ticket, I paused all my other plans and attended in full splendor. Not for anything else, but to see just how far Lyndon would go for her.

Even though I had prepared myself, when I saw the hall adorned with a sea of blue and pink flowers, my breath hitched.

"I heard all these flowers were sent by Mr. Hicks to Ms. Burton."

"So romantic! Sword lily means unwavering devotion, paired with white plum's silent protection... this man is the pinnacle of romance!"

"But I thought he's already married... Could this be an affair?"

"His wife? Don't you know her? She's just a pretty face without elegance. She's a nouveau-riche girl who forced him into marriage with underhanded means—"

"Ms. Miranda, you're here too?"

I swept my gaze over the women, one by one.

"It's fine. You continue your chat."

Their faces flushed red, voices faltering.

"Ms. Miranda, don't misunderstand—what we said just now was hearsay..."

I smiled generously. "That's fine. What you hear isn't always the truth. As for whether my methods are up to standard, you'll find out soon enough."

Not waiting to see their pale expressions, I turned and walked away.

The concert proceeded smoothly.

I didn't cause a scene. But when Claire stood on stage, bow in hand, I couldn't tear my eyes away from Lyndon in the audience.

He sat perfectly upright, hair impeccably combed.

A delicate white rose pinned to his chest seemed to bloom in time with the music.

Even across the distance, the intensity in his gaze stung me.

I sat in the dark corner, almost masochistically confirming over and over—he had never loved me.

When the concert ended, Claire walked to him, clutching a bouquet.

"Lyndon, the piece I played... it's for you. Do you like it?"

He reached out, brushing her hair softly, his tone impossibly tender. "I do."

So that's it, I thought.

Wiping my tears, I rose—only to be caught suddenly in a warm embrace.

"Reina! Finally, I've got you!"