On the day I decide to divorce Evan Beckett, I still make lunch and deliver it to him in person.

After he takes a sip out of the soup, he widens his eyes in surprise.

"The soup's pretty decent! I'll have it again tomorrow!"

I nod in response.

"Sure thing. I'll teach the housekeeper how to cook it later."

That's when Evan lifts his head to look at me.

"You got something going on tomorrow?"

"Let's get a divorce, Evan."

I sound very calm; so calm that everyone, including Evan, thinks that I'm throwing another tantrum.

But what they don't know is that I'll be traveling to the ends of the earth with a research team, where we'll be based in for eternity, in 12 hours.

After hearing that, Evan Beckett didn't even lift his gaze. "Since you're free tomorrow, you should cook for me. I'm not used to the food Maria makes."

"In that case, you should hire a housekeeper whose cooking you can get used to." Right after saying that, I pulled the divorce agreement out of my handbag and handed it to him. "I've already signed it. Now, it's just missing your signature."

Evan didn't reach out. He just locked his eyes on me, studying me for a long while. Then, a low chuckle escaped his lips. "This is the 18th time, but this is your most convincing attempt yet."

I knew exactly what he meant.

Before this, every single time his affairs with starlets and socialites made the tabloids, I would lose my mind, throw a tantrum, and demand a divorce. He would then use my hysteria as a pretext to move out and stay at his office. Inevitably, fear would consume me, and I'd swallow my pride and beg for a reconciliation.

We had repeated this vicious cycle a whopping 17 times.

Little did he know, yesterday, I overheard a conversation between my team members.

"Did you see the news? Ms. Jennings' husband was caught checking into a hotel with another starlet again!"

"It's the talk of the town; you'd have to be living under a rock to miss it."

"I seriously don't get what Fiona sees in her husband. What is she even getting out of a marriage like that?"

"What else? Money, obviously. Oh, and let's not forget that she's a total doormat..."

As their voices faded into the distance, I stood frozen in the bathroom stall. I had bitten my bottom lip so hard that it was bleeding.

With trembling fingers, I dialed Evan's number. The call was answered only moments before it was about to go to voicemail. "What is it this time?"

"Didn't you promise me that you wouldn't make the headlines again? Do you have any idea how my coworkers are looking at me right now?"

"That's what this is about?" His tone was brimming with impatience. "If you can't handle the way people look at you, quit your job and stay home. Fiona, there are plenty of women who would love to be the lady of the Beckett family. If you're tired of the title, I can easily replace you."

Before I could utter a word, a woman's saccharine voice drifted through the line. "Evan, I want to be the lady of the Beckett family, too!"

"Sure, I'll marry you once Fiona's out of the picture…" The call was cut off amidst heavy panting.

As I listened to the mechanical beeps of the dial tone, I realized my colleagues were right; I had been a pathetic doormat.

Shaking off the memory, I said softly, "Don't worry. Even though you're the one who committed infidelity, I won't take a single dime of your family's assets. I've left all the jewelry you bought me on the vanity table—"

"That's enough!" Evan hurled his spoon back into the bowl. "We're at the office. If you want to make a scene, do it at home. I can't afford to be humiliated here!"

I pressed my lips together and fell silent, gazing at him calmly.

After what felt like an eternity, he seemed to surrender. "Look, Charles will have that jewelry set you took a fancy to last time delivered to our house tonight. As for Astrid—"

"Mr. Beckett," I cut him off apathetically. "I don't need the jewelry, and I couldn't care less about you and your new flame. I came here for one thing only—a divorce."

Had my father, Fabian Jennings, not sacrificed his own life to save Evan's grandparents, a woman of my family background and social standing would never have been able to marry into the Beckett family. Everyone knew he was out of my league, so the upper echelons of the city's elite looked down on me.

Even though the research papers I published had literally taken the world by storm, I, too, believed I was unworthy. Consequently, I dimmed my own light, stripping myself of all dignity just to cater to Evan's every whim.

Now that I had let go of this obsession, my forbearance over the past five years had become a total joke. Naturally, it was time for me to reclaim my rightful place.

"Fiona…" Evan started, but his sentence was cut short as someone burst into his office without knocking on the door.

Astrid Smith fluttered to Evan's side like a colorful butterfly. "Evan, I came all this way to have lunch with you… Oh, you're already eating? It looks delicious! Did your housekeeper make it?"

Evan absolutely loathed it when people barged into his office unannounced. Once, an intern had forgotten to knock during an emergency, and Evan had fired them on the spot. Even I had to go through several layers of security clearance just to bring him lunch every day.

Yet, Astrid was clearly an exception to the rule.

Not only did he not become enraged, but he also beckoned her over with an indulgent smile. "Yeah, the housekeeper made it. It might look good, but it actually tastes like garbage."

He made a point of eye-balling me as the words left his mouth. I smiled slightly as I picked up the lunchbox and tossed it right into the trash can nearby. Evan's expression darkened in an instant.

Before he could snap, Astrid slithered onto his lap. "If it's that bad, don't eat it. A new restaurant just opened next door. Let's go check it out together!"

"Alright, let's go."

Right before he walked out, he looked over his shoulder and said coldly, "I'll have Charles take care of the headlines, and I'll make sure it doesn't happen again. However, this is the last time I will tolerate your tantrums, Fiona. Next time, I'll grant your wish."

As soon as his threat sank in, my heart jolted slightly. However, I stepped forward and blocked their path. "Evan, even though there's been nothing dignified about our five-year marriage, I still hope we can end it in a dignified manner. So, there's no need to wait for the next time. Let's just sign the agreement today."

It didn't take Astrid long to put two and two together. Her eyes immediately lit up, and lunch was suddenly the last thing on her mind. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Evan! Am I interrupting something important? Why don't I head outside and wait for you instead?"

However, before she could leave, Evan had already grabbed her wrist. "The one who should leave isn't you." He looked at me blankly. His lips were pressed into a thin, hard line.

I could tell he was about to blow a fuse. In the past, I would've panicked and racked my brain for a way to beg for his forgiveness. Now, I met his gaze without a shred of fear. "Sign it, and I'll get out of your hair right now. I promise neither of you will ever see me again."

The atmosphere in the office instantly dropped below freezing point.

Astrid's gaze darted between Evan and me several times before she suddenly dropped to her knees right in front of me. "Mrs. Beckett, it's fine if you hate me, but please don't give Mr. Beckett a hard time! It's all my fault. As long as you can forgive Evan, I'm willing to let you slap me!"

The moment the words left Astrid's mouth, she raised her hand and struck her own face. The crisp sound of the slap reached Evan's ears, and he immediately scooped her up into his arms and glared at me. "Fiona, how dare you slap Astrid? She's a public figure! How can you be so vicious?"

Without giving me a single chance to defend myself, Evan had already pronounced me guilty based solely on Astrid's theatrical performance. "You've been hurt because of me, Astrid. I'll definitely make it up to you. I promise you, the lead role in that movie you wanted is yours."

Astrid flashed me a cocky smirk where Evan couldn't see. Then, she mouthed the words, "The position of the lady of the Beckett family is mine!"

Not a spark of emotion stirred within me. I didn't even want Evan anymore. Why on earth would I care about being the lady of the Beckett family?

Hence, I ignored her and kept myself firmly planted at the door. "Evan, sign the divorce agreement. Let's divorce!"

The air in the room grew suffocatingly tense once again.

Right then, the office door was violently flung open. My mother, Roxanne Miller, charged in, and the first thing she laid her eyes on wasn't me, but the divorce agreement in my hands. Without saying a word, she snatched it, tore it to shreds, and brought her hand back to slap me hard across the face.

"Have you lost your mind? Why are you so hellbent on getting a divorce when you have a perfectly good life?" Her hands were on her hips, and her tone was harsh. She pierced my heart with every sentence, as if she wanted everyone in the room to hear.

"Evan is the cream of the crop in appearance and status! Who else could you possibly land if you lose him? When a woman gets divorced at 30, she becomes secondhand property!

"Who would want you then? If it weren't for Evan, do you honestly think you could live this comfortably on the pocket change your research institute pays you? This is just a tiny hiccup, yet you're making a mountain out of a molehill!

"Listen here, only deadbeat losers stick to one woman their whole lives—and it's not because they don't want mistresses; it's because they don't have the means to get them!"

I pressed my tongue against the inside of my cheek where I had been struck. A profound sense of helplessness and sorrow washed over me.

Everyone thought my marriage was picture-perfect, but Mom knew just as well as I did how rotten it was to the core. Even so, she still wanted me to grit my teeth and bear with it. To that end, she had even slapped me in front of Evan and his side piece.

A self-deprecating smile touched my lips when I thought of that.

When I didn't refute, Mom thought my resolve had wavered. Her tone softened a bit, but her words still cut deep. "Fiona, all married couples fight. Look at your dad and me; we fought and bickered our entire lives. Listen to me and apologize to Evan. In the future—"

I lifted my gaze to meet hers. My tone was calm yet incredibly firm. "I won't be doing that. I'm going through with this divorce, and nothing will change my mind! I've spent my whole life bending to your will—in where I studied, where I worked, and whom I married.

"I lived for everyone but myself. That ends now. This time, I'm choosing myself!"

"You're simply impossible to reason with!" Beside herself with rage, Mom raised her hand to slap me again. Yet, the moment she met my resolute eyes, her hand froze in midair and ultimately didn't land on my face.

She could only grit her teeth and hiss, "Fine, divorce him then! But when you're bawling your eyes out with regret in the future, don't you dare come crawling back home to me!" With that, she stormed out and slammed the door behind her.

The deafening sound made the walls tremble slightly. Then, the office went dead silent.

Once again, I reached into my handbag and pulled out another copy of the divorce agreement. "Sign it!"