During a reality show shoot, my younger brother and I accidentally fell into the water.

My wife, who’s an excellent swimmer, didn’t hesitate—she dove in and rescued him.

With a pale face full of worry, she called over ten bodyguards to carry him away, never once looking back at me.

I was left struggling, nearly drowning at the bottom of the lake, until the crew finally pulled me out.

The next day, I handed Hallie the divorce papers.

Looking at the paper, her expression was gloomy. “Connor can’t swim. That’s why I saved him first. Are you really jealous over that?”

I met her gaze calmly. “Yeah. Just sign it.”

——

We finalized the divorce without a fight.

Hallie’s delicate brows remained furrowed the whole time, but nothing about her expression stirred even the faintest emotion in me anymore.

She tucked the divorce certificate into her limited-edition designer handbag and said, “I’ll drive you.”

“No need.” I shook my head.

Apparently unsatisfied with my tone, she snapped, “Clayton, you don’t have to act like this. We were married for three years. A divorce doesn’t mean we have to cut ties completely.”

I was stunned for a second. I never thought words like that would come from her mouth—especially now that Connor was back. Shouldn’t she be happy that I had the good sense to step aside?

“Miss Barnes, to me, a divorce is a divorce. We’re not family anymore, and we sure as hell can’t be friends.”

“You—!”

“Besides,” I added, “we have no kids and no lingering attachments. There’s no reason to stay in touch.”

Her face flushed with anger as she spun on her heel and walked away.

I watched her retreating figure and sighed.

But the moment I thought about the balance in my bank account, all the sadness vanished in an instant.

I may be the eldest son of the Gardner family, but I never received a dime from them. Ironically, it was the divorce that made me a rich man.

There was no way the Barnes family would agree to a fifty-fifty split. So when I had my lawyer draft the divorce terms, I only asked for twenty million dollars.

Hallie agreed—and added two luxury properties in New York and Los Angeles, three more in London, and six commercial apartments in prime locations.

That alone was enough to ensure I’d never have to worry about money for the rest of my life.

Looking at those cold, hard numbers on the screen, I couldn’t help but laugh.

Finally—I could live for myself.

...

The very next day after the divorce, I moved into a downtown penthouse.

It was already registered under my name, and for the first time in my life, I felt a deep, unshakable sense of security.

I thought I’d feel pain and regret leaving Hallie. After all, I did love her during our three-year marriage.

But to my surprise, that first night, I slept better than I had in years. I woke up the next day at noon, feeling completely at ease.

Hallie and I had been bound by a business arrangement—our grandfathers were war comrades who arranged the marriage decades ago.

But originally, the engagement was meant for Connor.

Why? Simple. He was the golden boy the Gardner family raised for eighteen years—the little prince of the household while I was the biological son who had been switched at birth.

Before all this, Hallie and I lived in separate worlds. She was the school beauty and top student, the kind of girl someone like me would never even meet, let alone fall in love with.

Everything changed when I turned eighteen. The Gardner family found me. With tears in their eyes, they claimed I was their real son—separated at birth due to a nurse's mistake.

Back then, I was living in a welfare home. When I saw their luxury cars and expensive clothes, I naively believed life was about to become easier. At the very least, I thought I wouldn’t have to collect garbage just to pay for school anymore. The orphanage was poor, and not every child had the chance to study.

But instead of receiving love, compensation, or even a simple apology—I was met with indifference. Cold stares. Distant words. Still, I told myself: as long as I could go to school, it was enough.

They said the fake young master’s parents had died, so they wouldn’t send him away. But from day one, the difference in how they treated us was painfully clear.

I never felt like the eldest son of the Gardner family. If anything, I was more like the housekeeper’s kid.

It wasn’t until my parents arranged a business marriage for me that I learned the truth: the cold, elegant heiress who had always been by Connor’s side had been in a terrible car accident. They said her leg would never fully recover—she’d walk with a permanent limp.

For a woman, that kind of injury was devastating. It wasn’t just the physical pain; it meant losing her poise, her grace—and the freedom to wear beautiful skirts again.

Connor had cried and screamed that he’d never marry a cripple.

So the duty fell to me.

I could have refused.

But when I thought of that aloof yet stunning face—one I hadn’t seen in over a year—I somehow found myself agreeing.

I was twenty then, about to start my sophomore year of college. My parents arranged a leave of absence for me, and at an age where most people were still figuring out life, I got married. To be precise, I was married into the Barnes family.

The first time I went to see her, she completely lost it.

She hurled a vase that shattered at my feet and screamed for Connor to come.

But Connor had already flown abroad, using the family’s black card to start a new life as an international student.

The Gardner family’s business relied heavily on the Barnes family. Since Connor refused to marry a woman with a disability, they needed someone to maintain the alliance. And so, they chose me.

For the first time, my mother—Alia Gardner—offered me a shred of kindness. She cried, saying how difficult things were at home, how pitiful Connor was, how my father’s hair had started turning white from all the stress.

I felt nothing.

I said, "Why tell me all this? I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for Hallie."

Back when I was a freshman, she was a senior—already a legendary beauty and academic prodigy. Her name dominated the confession walls, and countless heirs of powerful families tried to win her favor. But at the time, she was always with Connor.

Because of her, he became the envy of the entire school. He bragged about his special status in her heart, basked in it like a crown he alone could wear.

I admired beauty, yes—but what truly captivated me was her intellect.

Her obsession with mathematics, her relentless pursuit of academic excellence—she’d published multiple SCI papers. I’d read every one of them. Some even helped me resolve problems I’d been stuck on for months.

It wasn’t hard for admiration to turn into love.

On our wedding day, Hallie never smiled once. I was so nervous I kept wiping the sweat off my hands, my palms slick no matter how many times I dried them.

When I took her hand, I nearly tripped.

The guests laughed. I looked like someone completely out of place, a joke. I heard them mention Connor, and Hallie’s face darkened further.

I figured... she must still be in love with him.

Why else would she look at me with such resentment?

At that moment, I regretted it—both the marriage and the silent crush I had carried all this time.

On our wedding night, she was the one who took control.

She straddled me without a word and forbade me from moving or doing anything she didn’t like.

But her leg wasn’t strong, and she struggled. I wanted to flip her over, to ease the pressure, but the look in her bloodshot eyes stopped me.

She was hurting—and used this as a way to let it out.

Soon our breathing grew heavy. Her face flushed with color, and despite everything, I too felt... pleasure.

There wasn’t much internal conflict in the Barnes household. Compared to life with the Gardner family, I was surprisingly more at ease here.

I still loved reading. I continued exploring academic problems, even though I was no longer enrolled.

And Hallie... from not coming home for days at a time, she eventually began returning every evening without fail.

Even when she was swamped at work, she’d still send a message to let me know where she was.

I started learning massage therapy from a traditional medicine practitioner. I wondered... maybe, just maybe, with consistent care, her leg might get better.

With the idea in mind, I began right away—nervously, the first time, when I hesitantly told Hallie about my plan to help her through massage.

At first, she resisted, but as I gradually became more skilled, she began to accept it. Half a year passed, and I became so familiar with human acupressure points that I could recite them backward in my sleep.

What started as reluctant tolerance turned into quiet dependence. She eventually waited for me every day to give her a thirty-minute massage. I even felt my hands growing stronger.

Life was uneventful otherwise.

One day, while delivering a forgotten document to Hallie’s office at Barnes Corporation, I caught the eye of a short drama editor. She asked if I’d be interested in playing a role—the third male lead, a top student—saying I gave off the perfect scholarly vibe.

Without thinking too much, I said yes. Surprisingly, Hallie didn’t object.

What I didn’t expect was for that little web series to become a breakout hit. Even my character—the humble third lead—gained a followers.

It was all new to me. I never imagined stepping into the entertainment world, a place so far from my reality.

Barnes Corporation owned many businesses; BY Entertainment was just a small branch. Hallie told me as long as I didn’t use the Barnes name for personal gain, I was free to do whatever I wanted.

So gradually, I signed with a manager—Tessa Whites—hired a personal assistant, and landed supporting roles in several major IP dramas, playing the fourth, fifth, sometimes even sixth male lead.

I became a bottom-tier celebrity—a so-called 18th-line actor. Sometimes I’d scroll through Instagram and laugh at the funny things fans said.

One night, I lay on the bed, massaging Hallie’s leg with one hand while reading out fan comments with the other.

Absentmindedly, my hand slid upward. She let out a soft gasp.

Startled, I dropped my phone, thinking I had hurt her. But when I looked down and saw her flushed cheeks, and I froze.

The kiss that followed felt natural.

One thing led to another.

We grew closer—more in sync, more intimate. And we both found happiness in it.

From then on, our relationship progressed rapidly.

She began bringing me little gifts—LEGO sets I liked, new clothes, watches. Sometimes she’d drag me to the movies or suggest taking a walk by the lake.

We started living like an ordinary couple.

And Hallie’s leg? My daily massage worked miracles. Even her doctor called it astonishing.

Now, as long as she didn’t walk too fast, no one could tell she’d ever been injured.

In our third year of marriage, Connor returned.

On the day he came back, Hallie, for once, didn’t cling to me.

Even my parents, who had barely contacted me since the wedding, called and asked us to return to Gardner's house.

Connor had been gone for three years. Not once had he come back.

Even during our rare New Year gatherings, Dad and Mom would awkwardly mention how “busy” he was with school.

Hallie’s expression turned frosty. She said nothing. I had no idea what she was thinking.

Truthfully, since marrying into the Barnes family, I had barely returned home myself.

Still, the Gardner family's favoritism never waned—they continued treating Connor as the golden child.

When Hallie and I arrived at the Gardner estate, we saw a familiar figure rush in like the wind, throwing himself into Hallie’s arms.

I stood beside them, watching.

And she... didn’t push him away.

Nestled into her shoulder, Connor looked more mature than before, but he still called her “sister” over and over again, crying as tears soaked the hem of her white dress.

Watching that scene felt like a needle driving into my chest.

At that moment, I bitterly regretted agreeing to come back.

Seeing me, Connor straightened up. “Sorry, Brother. I was just so happy. Hallie—oh, wait, should I call you sister-in-law now?”

Hallie’s temple twitched. With a cold expression, she took my hand and led me to our seats.

Connor stared at us in shock.

Dinner was uncomfortable.

Not once did Dad or Mom ask how I’d been.

Instead, they kept pushing for Connor and Hallie to talk—repeating how “Connor’s always thinking about Hallie.”