Emelia Chapman fancied herself quite the little trickster, cooking up an outrageous scheme. Determined to wriggle out of her arranged marriage, she spun a story about falling for a younger man—claiming it was true love, of all things.

David Richards, her husband, glanced down at the wedding band on his left hand, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "I wasn't aware my wife had a thing for younger men," he said, his tone laced with amusement.

Emelia coughed awkwardly, guilt creeping into her voice. "When true love hits, you can't stop it. I'm just hoping you'll let us be happy."

"Have you slept with him?" David asked, one eyebrow raised, his expression hovering somewhere between curiosity and entertainment.

The bluntness of the question made her hesitate. She looked at his composed face, felt a flicker of intimidation, and finally confessed, "Not yet."

"But if you keep dragging your feet on this divorce, I can't guarantee that'll last," she added, lifting her chin defiantly—like she was burning every bridge behind her.

David just kept staring at her, that same amused gleam in his eyes. It made Emelia uncomfortable, so she turned her head away, desperate to escape his gaze.

It wasn't that she was being dramatic—she genuinely couldn't keep living like this. They'd been married for six months, and it wasn't the honeymoon phase she'd imagined. Hell, she barely saw him once a week.

Her husband was a workaholic, constantly busy. Either he was at the office, or jetting off to some overseas branch. Even on the nights he did come home, he'd disappear into his study and work until the early hours—long after Emelia had already passed out.

To her, this marriage was a total disaster!

When she first heard about the arranged marriage with the Richards family, she'd been willing. Secretly thrilled, even. David was undeniably handsome, tall and commanding—he just had this presence that made you look twice.

In New York's elite circles, who wouldn't want to marry David Richards?

And yet, this golden opportunity had landed in Emelia's lap, only to leave her feeling suffocated.

After the wedding, David turned cold and distant. Even basic companionship felt like a luxury. Every expectation she had? Completely dashed.

Emelia was someone who craved emotional connection. She wanted to share dinner rolls and coffee together, take walks, binge a whole show side by side, gossip in bed before drifting off in each other's arms.

Instead, she'd been left disappointed. David was stingy with any hint of warmth or affection. Even when they shared a bed, it felt like a duty—empty, mechanical. He'd roll over and leave, no sweet whispers, no lingering touch.

She figured he must not love her.

Years ago, she'd heard rumors that David once had a serious girlfriend—someone he almost married. Tragically, the girl had fallen gravely ill and passed away. People talked about it with such reverence, telling stories of his profound love.

Then one day, without warning, those stories just stopped.

Emelia didn't want to compete with a ghost.

She had genuinely cared for David. She'd been ready to put in the work. But reality had shattered that dream, and she was done compromising her own happiness.

After much thought, she landed on divorce. But the approach had to be strategic. If she made herself the villain—struck at his pride—maybe he'd let go. Otherwise, a simple request would go nowhere. Neither David nor their families would ever agree.

"Why are you staring at me like that? Just make a decision," Emelia said, fidgeting under his gaze.

David rose from the couch and moved toward his desk, saying calmly, "Go home for now. Divorce isn't something to rush. We'll talk this evening."

Emelia followed him, planting herself in front of his desk and looking down at him. "David, it's not that complicated. We didn't sign a prenup, but I'm not trying to take anything from you. What's not mine, I don't want. We split things fairly and part as friends—no drama."

"Hmph," David scoffed under his breath, his eyes still scanning his documents. "In such a hurry? Is the young guy putting the pressure on?"

Emelia put on a show, sighing dramatically. "It's not that he's pressuring me. I just don't want to hold him back."

"Didn't realize my wife was so considerate. You must really be into this younger man," David said, every word dripping with irony.

Emelia bristled at his laughter. "You wouldn't get it, but he makes me happy."

David paused mid-motion, then asked in a mock-casual tone, "Oh, really? In what way?"

Emelia shot back haughtily, "No comment."

"Now I'm even more curious."

David closed the folder, tossed his pen onto the desk, and fixed her with a serious look. "Go home. I'm working, and I have a meeting soon. I'm not in the mood for this."

Emelia, rattled by his stern expression, swallowed the retort on the tip of her tongue.

"Fine. When you're not busy, think it over. I'm leaving."

David watched her go, let out a long breath, and picked up the phone beside him.

Emelia left Richards Corporation and drove back to her school.

She worked in administration at a prestigious elementary school—nowhere near as demanding as teaching, which gave her some leeway.

On her way back, her phone buzzed with a call from her friend Lorelai Bailey. She pulled over to answer.

"So, how did it go with Mr. Iceberg?" Lorelai teased.

Emelia rested her hand on the steering wheel, sighing. "He didn't give me an answer. Said we'd talk tonight at home."

"What's there to talk about? If he doesn't love you, cut him loose! You shouldn't stay married to someone who doesn't care—that's so not okay!" Lorelai huffed.

"Like he said, divorce is a big deal. Maybe he's got things to consider. I'm the one at fault here, so it's fair if I get less," Emelia replied.

Lorelai sounded disappointed. "I thought you'd wrap it up today. I even got ready to pop some champagne—reserved a table at a restaurant."

"Really?" Emelia chuckled. "Where?"

"Where else? Your favorite—Magnolia Grill," Lorelai said.

Emelia thought for a moment. "David never gets home before eight, so I doubt tonight will be any different. Let's grab dinner after work, and I'll head home after."

"Perfect, see you at five then," Lorelai agreed.

Emelia hung up and noticed a message from David: "I have dinner plans, will be back late."

"Okay, I'll wait for you," she mumbled, a hint of sarcasm slipping into her voice. It would honestly be a surprise if he came home early.

At 4:30 p.m., Emelia Chapman wrapped up her workday and headed straight to Magnolia Grill. Twenty minutes later, she pulled into the lot and parked right by the restaurant entrance. As she stepped out, a voice called from nearby, "Em, over here!"

She turned to see a tall, broad-shouldered guy leaning against a car, waving her over. It was Ryatt Bailey—Lorelai's younger brother, and the so-called "affair partner" she'd cooked up to push David Richards into agreeing to a divorce.

Ryatt was an impressive six-foot-two, muscular, with striking features. Standing there, he looked more like a bodyguard than anything else. He was straight-up and loyal—qualities that had made him say yes to Emelia's unusual request.

"Hey! I didn't know you were coming today. Lorelai didn't mention it," Emelia said, walking over to him.

"My sister figured you might need a little cheering up after your negotiations didn't go so well," Ryatt replied sincerely. "Thought I'd see if there was anything I could do."

Emelia chuckled. "Thanks, Ryatt, but not right now."

He winced slightly at the nickname. "Em, I'm 22 now. Please stop calling me Ry-Ry like I'm still a kid. Ryatt works just fine."

Emelia grinned. "I think Ryatt has a more personal touch."

They chatted as they walked into the restaurant, gave Lorelai's name at the front desk, and a waiter led them to a table by the window.

"Let me know if you need anything," the waiter said politely before leaving them to it.

As soon as they sat down, they spotted Lorelai's car pulling quickly into a spot outside. She stepped out with a radiant smile, practically skipping toward the entrance.

"What's got her so hyped? She's walking on air," Ryatt joked, pouring Emelia a cup of coffee.

"Looks like she's got some good news," Emelia guessed, craning her neck to catch sight of Lorelai at the door.

Lorelai rushed over to join them, her excitement contagious. "Remember that $3 million project I mentioned? I finally closed the deal today!" she announced jubilantly.

"Come on, we're celebrating today! Order something extravagant," she said, waving the waiter back over.

"Congratulations!" Emelia exclaimed, genuinely thrilled for her friend, knowing exactly how much effort Lorelai had poured into this venture.

Ryatt laughed. "Sis, think you could spring for a new car for me?"

Lorelai pretended to be deeply engrossed in the menu, completely ignoring him.

Ryatt leaned closer to Emelia, whispering, "See? Not a word."

Shortly after, their appetizers arrived along with some wine. Lorelai wasted no time pouring them all a drink, still riding high from the good news. "All those late nights were worth it. Let's not leave until we've properly celebrated!"

The three of them raised their glasses, just about to toast, when Lorelai suddenly paused. "Wait a sec!"

"Ryatt, why do you always sit next to Emelia whenever we have dinner together?" she asked curiously.

Emelia and Ryatt exchanged a quick glance at her question. In a mock-serious tone, Ryatt draped an arm around Emelia's shoulders, declaring, "Why? I'm her stand-in boyfriend, after all. Makes perfect sense!"

Emelia's head bumped lightly against Ryatt's firm chest, making her wince slightly. "Ryatt, no need to be so convincing," she murmured, rubbing her forehead.

Ryatt left his arm resting over Emelia's shoulders, completely unfazed by her protest.

Lorelai shook her head, amused. "You're getting way too into character for a pretend role!"

She gave her brother a teasing look before turning back to Emelia. "Come on, let's celebrate and help you move on from your current situation!"

As they clinked their glasses, laughter filled the table.

Meanwhile, across the restaurant, David Richards walked in with a group of business associates. His gaze instinctively landed on the lively table by the window—where Emelia sat with Ryatt and Lorelai. Her laughter and the way Ryatt's arm encircled her shoulders didn't escape his notice.

David felt his expression harden involuntarily, his eyes narrowing as he watched them. Was this her supposed "new love"? Were they toasting the upcoming divorce?

Even while he smiled and made conversation with his business partners, David couldn't shake the image of Emelia looking so carefree and happy in another man's arms.

As their meal wound down, Emelia's phone buzzed with a message from David: "Be home by ten. I've covered the bill for your meal."

"Thanks for that," Emelia typed back, not bothering to refuse the gesture.

She set her phone aside and turned to Lorelai. "David covered our bill."

Lorelai giggled, raising her glass once more. "Well, thanks to Mr. Iceberg's generosity, I won't hold back!"

Emelia smiled softly, saying nothing more.

About half an hour later, the trio left the restaurant.

David's driver, Khari Freeman, approached Emelia with a polite nod. "Mrs. Richards, Mr. Richards has asked me to drive you home."

After a drink that night, Emelia Chapman found herself conveniently getting a ride home from Khari Freeman—no designated driver needed.

Lorelai Bailey nudged her shoulder playfully and giggled. "Think your husband might be getting a little anxious?"

Emelia, not so sure about where David Richards' head was at, shrugged. "Doubt it. I've stopped holding my breath."

Lorelai didn't answer directly. She just gave a knowing look. "You might want to get going. Could be some drama waiting for you tonight."

"Drama? If we finally manage to talk divorce tonight, that's the only show I care about." Emelia waved and slid into the car.

Meanwhile, Ryatt Bailey watched the car pull away, totally puzzled. "What's David playing at? Now he suddenly cares about Emelia? He doesn't want the divorce anymore?"

Lorelai shot her brother an amused, slightly confused glance. "Not your problem, don't get tangled up in it. Let's head home."

When Emelia walked in, she was surprised to find David sitting in the living room. "When did you get back?"

"About twenty minutes ago," David replied evenly.

"Oh." Her tone was just as flat. "I'll grab a shower first, then we can talk about the divorce."

David said nothing, but his gaze followed her all the way to the bedroom.

As the water ran over her, Emelia's mind churned. If David brought up Ryatt, she'd admit to her fake affair—hoping that would push him into agreeing to the split once and for all.

But even with her resolve locked in, her emotions were a mess. She should've felt relieved about the divorce, yet her chest felt heavy, twisted.

She took a deep breath, trying to clear her head, then stepped out.

An hour later, Emelia came out in a nightgown, ready to talk. But David wasn't in the living room anymore. She checked his study—empty too.

"What the—did he leave?" she muttered, frowning. She grabbed her phone and shot him a WhatsApp: "Where are you?"

His voice message popped up quickly: "I'm in the lounge. Come over."

She listened twice—his low, clear voice was impossible to ignore.

In the lounge, David was on the sofa, a bottle of wine and two glasses resting on the coffee table. Emelia walked in slowly and settled across from him.

"Drink a lot tonight?" David asked, setting the mood. "If not, we can sip and talk."

"Not much. Just two beers."

David gave a faint smile and poured the wine. "Have fun on your little date with that 'brother'? Why didn't you drink more?"

Emelia paused, reaching for her glass, and let out a wry laugh. "I've got a low tolerance. Was scared I wouldn't make it home."

David looked at her through narrowed eyes, satisfied. "Smart move. Glad to see my wife still thinks about what's good for this house."

"Cut the nonsense. Let's talk about the divorce." Emelia wasn't impressed by his sarcasm.

David took a slow sip. "Emelia, have I wronged you?"

"Materially, you've given me plenty," she admitted, being honest.

"So it's something else, then." His tone turned certain. "You're upset because I work too much and don't give you enough attention?"

That hit a nerve. Emelia turned her head away, sipping wine in silence.

David let out a low, knowing laugh, got up, and came around to sit beside her.

"What are you doing?" She shifted away, keeping her distance. Staring at her glass, her voice softened. "I know there's someone else in your heart. You don't love me. Why would I be unhappy? Forcing this won't bring anyone joy."

"That's what you believe?" His curiosity sparked.

Emelia looked up. "Isn't it true? Everyone knows about you and that girl from back then."

David's expression flickered, lost for a second in old memories.

"You're still not over her," Emelia said, jealousy bleeding into her tone.

David snapped back, a smile creeping onto his lips. He leaned in, dropping his voice to a teasing murmur. "Honey… are you jealous?"

She instinctively leaned back, cornered against the couch, hands pressed defensively against his chest. "Who's jealous? Don't flatter yourself."

In one smooth motion, he pinned her to the sofa, lightly brushing her hair. "If you want me around more, just say so. I'd say yes."

Caught off guard, Emelia's face flushed crimson, her stammer betraying her. "W-What are you—what kind of tactic is this? I'm not joking, David. I'm serious about the divorce!"

Before she could finish, David kissed her—hard, commanding, his hands locking hers above her head, his leg pressing down. Fighting back was pointless.

His kiss was fierce, unrelenting, giving no room to pull away. Emelia instinctively tried to turn her head, but he followed every move until her walls crumbled, and she gave in.

The night burned on.

In the morning, David woke and reached for her—only to find empty sheets, cool to the touch.

"Honey?" He assumed she was just out of reach and fumbled across the bed.

Still nothing. He snapped awake, sitting up with a frown. It was Saturday—she always slept in. Why was she up this early?

He pulled on his robe and started roaming the house. "Emelia? Darling? You home?"

The big house stayed silent. Unease crept in as he dialed her number.

It took several rings before she picked up, background noise loud and chaotic.

"Where did you go so early?" David asked, confused.

Emelia found a quieter spot. "David, I've moved out. Let me know about the divorce soon. Dragging this out is pointless."

Last night had made everything clearer than she could ignore. One passionate night wasn't going to change the cycle she had to escape.

So she chose separation. Staying under the same roof would never lead to the happiness she actually wanted.

"You're really leaving me?" His voice turned cold. "Emelia, do you even know what you're doing?"