I went back to the villa that was supposed to be our marital home to pack my things and leave.

But the password lock on the front door failed again and again.

Just as I was about to call Rachel, the door opened from the inside.

Tyler stood there wearing my pajamas, arms crossed, his face full of annoyance.

"What are you doing here?"

Before I could even question him, Rachel arrived. She immediately pulled Tyler behind her as if shielding him, then explained hurriedly, "Ivan, don't misunderstand. Ever since I got pregnant, I've been sleeping lightly. Tyler moved into the villa so he could take care of me more conveniently."

"Besides, the lease on the apartment near the hospital hasn't expired yet. Why don't you keep staying there for now? Just make do for a bit. Once the baby is born and we get our marriage certificate, you can move back in."

I stared at her in disbelief.

"I paid half for this house too. On what grounds did you let him move in without my consent? And on what grounds do you get to decide where I live?"

What she didn't know was that this villa was worth far more than she imagined.

My father, unwilling to see me suffer, had covered eighty percent of the price in advance.

On paper, Rachel and I had each paid half.

A trace of guilt flickered across her face as she looked away.

The next second, Tyler shouted smugly, "Because the property deed has my name and Rachel's on it!"

"I didn't even call security to kick you out—purely out of respect for Rachel!"

I turned to Rachel in shock. Only then did she explain reluctantly, "Tyler grew up with me. He's practically family. He won't be getting married, and he'll be raising the child in the future. I'm the mother—of course, I have to leave him some security."

"Besides, you and I are going to get married sooner or later. I won't abandon you no matter what. Does a name on a deed really matter more than our relationship?"

Staring at the woman in front of me, spouting such twisted logic, I almost couldn't recognize her.

I had thought she simply didn't love me enough.

I never imagined that even the little affection she had left was already soaked in calculation.

This was the woman I had humbled myself to love for ten years?

It wasn't worth it.

Not at all.

Seeing my eyes reddened, Rachel instinctively took out a cigarette and lit it—then suddenly remembered she was pregnant. Flustered, she hurried away to extinguish it.

Tyler seized the chance to step closer, jabbing my shoulder hard with his finger.

"I'm sick of you petty, effeminate little men who nitpick over everything! Rachel wants to support me—what's it to you?"

"If you know what's good for you, get the hell out of here!"

I raised my hand to knock his away—but he suddenly shoved me with both hands, hard, sending me straight into the artificial lake beside the villa.

Hearing the splash, Rachel rushed back. Tyler spread his hands innocently.

"I didn't touch him."

Her hurried steps slowed. She looked at me struggling in the water, her gaze icy.

"That's enough. Stop pretending."

"Tyler isn't the kind of person who plays these petty tricks."

"Quit this pathetic act and climb out yourself."

Water flooded my mouth. My legs began to cramp.

"It was him—! Save... save me!"

Realizing something was wrong, panic finally flashed across Rachel's face. She reached out instinctively.

Suddenly, Tyler clutched his head and cried out, "Rachel, the wind is so strong. My head hurts again—it's killing me!"

She hesitated for only a second. Then she turned around decisively, shielding Tyler as she led him back into the villa.

Bang.

The door slammed shut—as if sealing off my last chance at survival.

I didn't know how long I struggled. Just as my consciousness began to fade, a pair of pale hands finally pulled me out of the water.

When I opened my eyes, I saw a face that was both familiar, and strangely distant.

"Ivan—how did you end up in such a sorry state?"

Leila took off her coat and draped it over my shoulders. Her movements were elegant, but her expression and tone were just as sharp and teasing as they had always been back when she loved going against me.

I coughed up a few mouthfuls of water and asked hoarsely, "Why are you here?"

"My dad told me you were canceling your engagement," she replied smugly. "So I came back especially to see whether you got dumped—so I could laugh at you, of course."

She raised an eyebrow and was about to stand when I suddenly grabbed the hem of her clothes.

"Since you've already seen everything," I said quietly, "do you want to register a marriage with me?"

Leila froze, staring at me in stunned silence for a long moment.

"If you don't want to, forget it," I added calmly. "I can find someone else."

The moment I finished speaking, she grabbed my wrist.

"Who said I don't want to?"

She looked straight at me, her expression unusually serious.

"But let me be clear first, Young Master Mcmillan—if you marry me, divorce is not an option."

...

One step on the accelerator later, Leila drove me straight to the Civil Affairs Bureau.

Afterward, she took me to a hotel, helped me clean up, and changed me into fresh clothes. Then, with careful yet slightly clumsy movements, she began blow-drying my hair.

Not long after, my phone suddenly lit up with a message from Tyler—followed by a livestream link.

[Ivan, actually, when Rachel accepted my sperm last time, we didn't go through the hospital at all.]

[We did it just like this—on that very boat.]

[And after she got pregnant, she became even more insatiable with me~]

My heart skipped violently. My fingers trembled as I tapped the link.

On-screen, on the marital bed in the villa, Rachel and Tyler were entwined, completely lost to the world.

Between labored breaths, Tyler asked, "Me or Ivan—which one makes you feel better?"

Rachel frowned. "Why mention him at a time like this?"

She moved against him eagerly, indulgent and unashamed. "Honestly, after all these years, I've gotten a bit bored of him."

"But you—who would've thought you'd always acted like a little boy, yet be so manly in bed? I'm almost addicted."

Obscene positions and filthy words flooded the screen.

I forced myself to keep watching—until my fingertips turned ice-cold and my mind reached an unprecedented clarity.

After exiting the livestream, I called one of my father's friends and demanded the return of the ten million my father had advanced for the villa.

"Uncle," I said calmly, "that villa has nothing to do with me anymore. Whatever money is still missing—you can ask the current owners for it."

Then I took out the marriage certificate Leila and I had just received, snapped a photo, and sent it to Rachel's family group chat.

I even tagged Tyler.

[If you like secondhand goods, consider it a gift.]

[I've already registered my marriage with someone else. From now on, I won't be in the way of your two families loving each other in peace.]