On our wedding anniversary, Julian Cross used condoms he found to make three balloons for me—but spent millions celebrating Clarissa Whitmore’s birthday.

I found it disgusting, yet he had the nerve to scold me for being materialistic.

“Vanessa has been pampered since she was a child. Her birthday party has to be grand—I don’t want to disappoint her.”

“You claimed you only loved me. But now you’re criticizing me? Seems like you're no different from those shallow men chasing gold diggers.”

I chose to divorce him right then. He moved Clarissa into our house the very next day.

Six years later, I rode a small electric scooter to the most luxurious community in New York—and ran into them right at the entrance.

Seeing my takeaway uniform and shopping bags, Julian sneered with disdain.

“Acted all tough back then, and now you’ve fallen so low, delivering condoms for a living?”

“Arielle Sinclair, if you kneel down and beg, I might not marry you again—but I could let you be my canary, reluctantly.”

I didn’t even look at him.

I was just playing house with my son—I never expected his father to get jealous and storm out.

Now I had to coax that petty man back home.

——

As soon as I reached the gates of Imperial Crest Manor, I saw Julian holding Vanessa Holloway’s hand, surrounded by several rich second-generation heirs.

In six years, he’d grown more mature and capable, now a leader in New York’s real estate scene.

They praised him like sycophants:

“Julian, you’re the most successful among us. I heard that the world-famous real estate tycoon just arrived in New York and bought a house here in Imperial Crest Manor—one designed by you. He’s notoriously picky about his environment.”

“With a boss like that admiring your work, he’ll definitely approve your cooperation proposal. When you enter the global market, don’t forget to take your brothers with you!”

Julian smiled proudly, soaking in every compliment.

To please him, they even flattered Vanessa:

“They say a virtuous wife ensures prosperity for generations. Behind Julian’s success is Vanessa’s constant support. Unlike Arielle—who only knew how to wash clothes and cook—completely useless and always dragging him down.”

“Arielle looks like a curse on men. Whoever marries her is doomed. How could she ever compare to our elegant Dr. Sinclair? Julian, you and Vanessa have been married six years now—when’s the big wedding?”

Vanessa shyly took Julian’s arm and giggled:

“You guys are too much. Aze bought land in Canada last year. He’s designing a rose manor himself. He said once it’s built, we’ll have a century wedding there.”

Julian looked a bit embarrassed.

“Yes, Vanessa deserves the best. I want everything to be perfect. There’s no rush.”

I raised an eyebrow. That manor—wasn’t it already built six years ago?

Right after our divorce, Julian brought Vanessa home and even flaunted their marriage certificate. But they still hadn’t had a wedding?

If he had really built a manor, or even a palace, surely it would’ve been finished by now.

Did he buy another plot of land just to keep up the illusion?

Not wanting to bump into Julian, I lowered my head and tried to ride past quickly on my scooter.

But Vanessa’s sharp eyes caught me. She turned to the property manager with a tone of disgust:

“Manager Holloway, Aze pays you so much money, and this is what you allow in? Letting random people wander in? What’s the point of living in an upscale community like this if you let in trash?”

Manager Holloway bowed repeatedly in apology, then rushed toward me angrily.

“Are you blind? Can’t you read the sign? This is Imperial Crest Manor, the most high-end community in New York. Delivery people are not allowed inside!”

“Leave the items in the guard room. Someone will bring them to the owner. Now get out of here!”

I looked down at the delivery outfit I was wearing—clothes I’d bought just to play house with my son.

No wonder I was mistaken for a delivery person.

I was just about to explain when someone beside me recognized me first.

“Arielle? Julian, isn’t this your ex-wife?”

“I haven’t heard anything about her in years. Turns out she ended up delivering food after leaving Julian? That’s hilarious. This kind of job suits a loser from a low-class background like her.”

Manager Holloway overheard the comment about me being Julian’s ex-wife. Although he couldn't understand how someone like me had once been with him, he still asked obsequiously,

“President Cross, should we… let her in?”

Julian had been staring at me the whole time, his expression unreadable.

Before he could speak, Vanessa stepped forward and warned sharply,

“Aze, the entire concept behind Imperial Crest Manor is to provide an elite living environment—more private and peaceful than ordinary communities. That’s why it attracts the top-tier crowd in New York.”

“Everyone who lives here is either wealthy or influential. If you let someone like a delivery worker in, what if something goes missing from a home and the owner files a complaint? Especially now that the international boss is here—if he finds out you're being so unprofessional, it could ruin the deal.”

I almost laughed. Was Vanessa implying I was a thief?

Julian gave me a cold glance and said indifferently,

“She’s just my ex-wife. She’s not worth bending the rules for.”

Hearing that, Manager Holloway stepped forward and shoved me.

“You hear that? Do you even know how much a single floor tile here costs? And you have the nerve to ride that broken scooter into this place? Get out!”

I hate people who look down on others. I slapped his hand away and said coldly,

“First of all, I don’t consider food delivery a lowly job. Every honest worker earns their living with dignity—there’s no such thing as a low profession.”

“Second, I’m not here to deliver food. I’m looking for someone, and it’s urgent.”

“And finally—let me in. If I break a tile, I’ll pay double the cost in compensation!”

Manager Holloway sneered.

“You? Compensate? These floor tiles are imported, airlifted from abroad. Each costs hundreds of thousands. And that's not even including labor and fuel charges. How much do you make—100 dollars a day? You couldn’t afford it even if you worked your whole life.”

“A poor woman like you claims to know someone here? Stop lying. Leave now, or I won’t be polite.”

He shoved me hard. I lost my balance and fell to the ground along with my scooter.

“Enough!”

Julian scowled at Manager Holloway. “Why are you making a scene in the middle of the night? Don’t you care about disturbing the residents?”

He walked over instinctively and helped me up, frowning.

“Do you really need to pretend to be rich just to earn a few bucks running errands? Fine. I’ll place another order for you—pick something, and I’ll have it sent to your house. I’ll pay you 10,000 for the delivery. Happy now?”

“Arielle, I know you’re hanging around here because you still want to see me. But Vanessa is my wife now. Even if you go blind, I won’t marry you again.”

Vanessa laughed mockingly.

“Oh, by the way, I just remembered—we’re out of condoms at home. Miss Sinclair, could you grab us a few boxes? There’s no helping it, Aze just goes through them too quickly.”

Julian didn’t say a word. His silence was tacit approval.

I yanked my hand away, pulled out a tissue from my pocket, and wiped it furiously. Then I smiled.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m not that desperate. And I don’t hand out condoms to my ex-husband and his mistress. That’s just filthy.”

As I spoke, Julian’s face darkened. He grabbed the shopping bag from my hand and dumped everything onto the ground in a rage.

“Giving them to me is dirty, but it’s fine to give them to others? Don’t tell me you still can’t let go of me. Even the condoms you bought are my favorite—strawberry flavor!”

“You think acting tough and playing hard to get will make me soften? Let me tell you—I only have Vanessa in my heart now. I’m not looking back.”

I was speechless.

Everything at home had been chosen by someone else. He never let anyone else handle it.

How was I supposed to know I’d accidentally match Julian’s taste?

“Mr. Cross, you're overthinking. This is purely a coincidence. I’ve long forgotten your preferences. Please don’t flatter yourself.”

If the Jealous King heard this, he’d absolutely throw a tantrum.

He might even launch a crusade against all strawberry-flavored products.

A flicker of disappointment crossed Julian’s eyes.

I ignored him and lowered my head, intending to pick up the scattered items.

But he suddenly lost it—he kicked the packaging box away and seized me with his shoulders.

“Arielle, why are you pretending to be strong? Back then, you scoffed at the things I gave you. Now you’re delivering condoms to make ends meet?”

“Is it because 10,000 dollars wasn’t enough? Fine. If you kneel down and beg now, even if I won’t remarry you, I might allow you to be my canary.”

I blinked, ears twitching in disbelief.

“What did you just say?”

I thought time would’ve matured him.

Turns out, he only became more arrogant—and repulsive.

Julian straightened, pride lighting his expression.

“No need to look so shocked. I don’t have any lingering feelings for you.”

“But we were husband and wife once. I don’t want you living miserably without my protection—it reflects poorly on me. I have more money than I know what to do with. Supporting one more woman is nothing.”

At that, Vanessa’s face twisted in jealousy. She quickly cut in:

“Aze, don’t be fooled. She’s baiting you into saying that.”

“Arielle knows we already have a marriage certificate, but she can’t bear to give up the Cross family fortune. That’s why she’s clinging to you again—just like before—trying to suck you dry. After all, no one’s buying her paintings…”

I turned to her coldly.

“Ms. Sinclair, watch your mouth. I’ve never taken a single penny from Julian—past, present, or future.”

“And before our divorce, you’d already spent plenty of his money. I’m sure you don’t need me to remind you.”

That million-dollar birthday bash she threw back then caused quite a stir in the city.

People gossiped, after all, because it was funded with shared marital assets.

Vanessa looked aggrieved and turned to Julian for support.

But to her surprise, he didn’t even glance her way. Instead, he looked at me, his voice heavy with unwillingness.

“Arielle, think carefully. Without me, you’re nothing. Be my canary, and I’ll give you the life of luxury you want. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

At that moment, I found everything utterly absurd.

So he’d never really understood me at all.

We met back in college—completely by chance.

I admired his talent in architecture, and he praised my distinctive painting style. We grew close without even noticing.

When I accepted Julian’s confession, I had no idea he was wealthy.

He hid his background, saying he just wanted to stay low-profile.

I knew he was close to Vanessa. I asked about it, and he told me they were like siblings—that I was the only one he loved.

But after the wedding, everything changed. Julian was constantly out—rarely coming home.

Then one night, he sent me a hotel address.

I thought he was drunk and needed me to pick him up.

But when I got there, I found him and Vanessa—disheveled and tangled together.

And I heard words that shattered everything.