My husband, who's a negotiation expert, allows his intern to recklessly anger some criminals. It causes me, the hostage, to suffer severe injuries in the explosion, and my right leg breaks because of it.

Yet, my husband once again issues a letter of forgiveness for her.

"My wife, as a reporter, ignored warnings and forced contact with the criminals to get the scoop. The main responsibility lies with her. Kimberly, being a newcomer, should not bear major fault."

I don't cry or make a scene. I simply pull out a divorce agreement.

However, he sneers at me. "I know you're just jealous and want me to comfort you, but don't cross the line."

For the past three years, I've brought up the topic of divorce 47 times, and each time, he treats it like I'm just throwing a tantrum.

But it's different this time. His name has already been signed on this divorce agreement.

As long as I add my signature to it, it will take effect immediately.

I typed on the phone with the only fingers I could still move, "I'm serious. Let's get a divorce."

Zack Larson, my husband, stood in front of the hospital bed, lowering his eyes to look at the screen.

The calm mask on his face—unique to a negotiation expert—showed a slight crack.

"Serenity," he said in the soothing tone he often used at the negotiation table. "You're emotionally unstable right now. This isn't the right time for us to discuss this."

The beeping of the monitor echoed especially clearly in the ward.

He reached out, wanting to touch my wrist, but stopped when he saw the layers of gauze. Finally, he only tucked the blanket gently around me.

"The doctor said your right leg may need long-term rehabilitation. I'll contact the best rehabilitation center."

I stared at Zack's neat collar, where a peach-shaped pin from Kimberly Harmon was still clipped on.

While struggling to hold up my gauze-wrapped body, I spoke, my smoke-damaged vocal cords producing broken syllables.

"Let's. Di. Vorce. Zack."

His body suddenly stiffened up. I saw his Adam's apple move as his jaw tightened.

"Serenity Jones."

He turned around to face me while speaking in an extremely low voice. Each word seemed to be squeezed out through clenched teeth.

"I was the one who put you through college, and I even sponsored you through graduate school. You said you wanted to repay me and to get married."

Zack sneered as his long fingers tapped lightly on the divorce papers. "You knew I didn't like you, but thanks to your tricks, you still forced me into marrying you. And now you're lying here, telling me you want a divorce?"

Suddenly, he snatched up the water cup by the bedside. However, he froze at the moment he was about to smash it, and his knuckles turned white.

"Serenity, what do you take me for? An ATM to be used and thrown away? Or just a stepping stone for you to climb higher?"

Before he had even finished speaking, he had already turned and walked out. The ward door was slammed so hard that the glass windows trembled.

I looked at his retreating figure and smiled bitterly. The burned corner of my lips split open, and the taste of blood spread in my mouth.

"This time, I mean it," I said to no one.

In college, I was the underprivileged student Zack had sponsored. At that time, he had just entered the negotiation industry. Even though he was busy, he always found time to visit me.

He would bring me hot tea in winter, saying, "I bought extra after the negotiation."

When he learned that I skipped breakfast to save money, he even picked me up every day and went to the cafeteria with me for meals.

I liked Zack, but he never liked me.

Back then, he went abroad for his first love and left me alone in the country.

Years later, when he returned, I invited him to dinner. We both drank, and he took me to bed.

At that moment, I thought Zack finally liked me. The next day, he said he would take responsibility, and I agreed without hesitation.

But now, Zack said I had tricked him into marrying me. He was even indifferent to my injuries for the sake of Kimberly.

After all these years, I had repaid the kindness, and it was time I let go of him.

I should let him go and allow him to pursue the one he truly wanted. I should let go and end this unequal marriage that had been wrong from the very beginning.

My trembling fingers slid across the screen with difficulty and opened that long-buried email.

It was an offer from the Granite Broadcasting (GBC) International News Department that was extended to me indefinitely.

The date on it was exactly the day three years ago when Zack and I got married.

The glow of the screen shone through the gaps in the bandages, and I suddenly remembered what he had solemnly said to me that day.

"Don't go to the battlefield. It's too dangerous."

Back then, I thought that was the only warmth he had ever shown me, but now I realized it had all been just my wishful thinking.

My burns sent searing pain through me, yet I smiled in relief.

My fingers tapped on the keyboard, and inside the reply box, I wrote, "I accept."

…

Over the next two weeks in the hospital, Zack never once appeared.

My phone was piled up with the messages he had sent.

"There's a kidnapping case to handle today. Get some proper rest."

"I have to go out of town for negotiations tomorrow. Take care of yourself."

But when I turned to Kimberly's social media page, I saw something else.

"Thank you to my personal driver today for picking me up and dropping me off at work."

The picture showed Zack's flawless profile, smiling gently into the camera.

"Mr. Larson said he's taking me to that famous restaurant tomorrow. I'm so happy!"

Every post felt like a knife to me, cutting open my wounds that had yet to heal.

Outside, a nurse knocked on the door and came in to change my bandages. She asked in concern, "Ms. Jones, was that your husband who came with you that day? Why haven't I seen him these days?"

I painfully forced out a smile at the nurse.

"He'll be my ex-husband soon. Whether he comes or not doesn't matter."

The nurse smiled awkwardly at me, then secretly glanced at my bandaged leg and suddenly said, "Actually, I saw your ex-husband in the obstetrics department yesterday. He was accompanying Ms. Harmon for her check-up."

She looked at me with an indignant gaze. "If you ask me, that Ms. Harmon doesn't even have half your grace. Your ex-husband really has no taste!"

Halfway through, she seemed to realize she had misspoken and hurriedly picked up the tray.

I comforted her, "It's okay. I've long gotten used to it."

The nurse tucked in my blanket before leaving and softly said, "Ms. Jones, get some good rest."

As she turned away, I heard her barely audible sigh.

…

After half a month of rest, I handled my own discharge procedures.

My right leg was still wrapped in bandages, and every step sent stabbing pain through me. But compared to the pain in my heart, this was nothing at all.

When I pushed open the long-unseen door to my home, a heavy stench of alcohol hit me.

Wine bottles were scattered all over the living room floor.

Ambiguous sounds came from the master bedroom, and a woman's coy laughter sharply pierced through my eardrums.

I slowly leaned against the wall and moved over. Soon, I saw Kimberly in my silk nightgown, sitting on Zack's lap and feeding him grapes.

Zack's face was flushed. He was clearly drunk.

The housekeeper, Rita Poole, rushed out of the kitchen in a panic. There was still flour on her apron.

"Mrs. Larson, w-why are you back so soon?" She rubbed her hands nervously. "Mr. Larson and Ms. Harmon only drank too much. Nothing happened, I-I can testify…"

I gently patted Rita's trembling hand. "It's fine."

As those words left my mouth, I realized how terrifyingly calm my voice was.

Kimberly provocatively wrapped her arms around Zack's neck, deliberately tugging the strap of the nightgown lower.

Meanwhile, Zack's gaze was unfocused, and his cheeks were unnaturally flushed. He was obviously very drunk.

I walked silently into the bedroom and pulled out the suitcase I had packed long ago from the bottom of the wardrobe.

The wheels made faint noises as they rolled over the scattered clothes on the floor.

"Rene…"

Zack's slurred call came from behind me, carrying a tenderness I hadn't heard in a long time.

My steps faltered, and a fluster rose in my heart. I turned and saw Kimberly's back stiffen instantly.

"Zack!" She quickly leaned close to his ear, her sweet voice tinged with panic. "Were you calling for me? I'm right here!"

Zack was still dazed and muttering, "Kimberly… Kimberly…"

I pulled at the corner of my lips in self-mockery as my fingers unconsciously tightened around the luggage handle.

Even at this point, I was still fantasizing that he would call my name.

Kimberly raised her brows at me smugly. "Did you hear that? When Zack gets drunk, the only name he calls is mine."

She deliberately dragged out her tone as she mocked me. "Some people should stop being so delusional."

I lowered my head and looked at my bandaged right leg. I suddenly remembered that on the day of the explosion, the first person Zack rushed to was Kimberly.

Just like now, when he was drunk and muddled, the name he subconsciously called was still hers.

"Right," I said softly.

Then, not knowing whether I was answering Kimberly or warning myself, I said, "I should have understood long ago."

I turned and left, walking out without a trace of hesitation. My phone screen lit up at the perfect time—GBC had sent the final confirmation email.

"Ms. Serenity Jones, tomorrow at 8:00 am, the private jet will be waiting."

My fingertip hovered over the screen before I finally typed, "Please prepare a new identity for me. Let the name Serenity Jones disappear along with my past."

"Understood."

The moment I saw the reply, it felt as if something inside my heart clicked shut forever.

I picked up my phone, ready to book a ride to the airport, when a towel soaked in chemicals suddenly covered my mouth and nose.

Before my consciousness faded, I heard someone say, "That's her—Zack's wife."

…

When I woke up again, the stench of rust made my nostrils sting.

Under the swaying incandescent light above, a masked man was adjusting some live-streaming equipment.

"Awake?" He kicked at the chair I was tied to. "Your husband sure was hard to meet."

I recognized the voice—it was the younger brother of the gangster from the explosion case. He was also the fugitive wanted on the news.

"You caught the wrong person," I rasped out with an unusually calm voice. "Zack and I are already divorced. Legally, we have nothing to do with each other."

Ethan Calloway laughed coldly. "You said you got divorced? Am I just supposed to believe you?"

"Look at this." I motioned for him to see my bandaged right leg. "This was the injury I suffered while he stood by to protect another woman. Are you sure you want to use me to threaten him?"

Ethan eyed me with suspicion as the tip of the knife grazed along my neck.

I continued, "How about we make a bet? If Zack doesn't show up within ten minutes, it proves I mean nothing to him. According to Article 234 of the Criminal Law, you'll get an extra charge for kidnapping an unrelated person. You still have time to let me go now."

While Ethan hesitated, the factory's iron door was suddenly forced open, and glaring police lights flooded in.

I heard Zack shouting through a loudspeaker, "Let her go!"

Ethan suddenly gripped my chin, forcing me to look at the live-streaming camera.

"You said you were divorced, but he still showed up. Looks like you're quite important to him. How about this? If he refuses to let my brother come in and exchange for you, I will let the whole nation see how the negotiation expert's woman is stripped down!"

The moment the camera went live, the live comments were already flooding in like crazy.

"Isn't this the reporter who deserved to be blown up?"

"With burns like that, who does she think she can seduce?"

"Strip! We're waiting to see that!"

Ethan sneered as he flicked open my first button with the tip of the knife.

"Zack! I'll give you 30 seconds to decide. Do you want your career, or your wife's dignity?"

Through the blinding police lights, I saw Zack's figure frozen outside the police cordon. His white shirt was soaked with sweat, and his tie hung crooked around his neck.

In all these years, it was the first time I had seen him so disheveled.

Ethan sneered as he cut open my second button, and the livestream comments instantly went into a frenzy.

I heard Zack's footsteps suddenly stop through the loudspeaker, and right after came Kimberly's sickly sweet voice.

"Zack." She tugged on his sleeve and shook it. "You know I only need one more case to become official. Let me handle this one, okay?"

Through the dust-covered glass window, I saw Zack swallow hard.