At an industry party, my award-winning actress wife lost a game. Instead of taking the drinking penalty, she chose to French kiss her childhood sweetheart for three minutes.

By the end of it, both of them were flushed, and Mira Lane's blouse had been stripped down to nothing but a camisole.

If there had not been other people in the room, I believe they would have taken that kiss even further.

Julian Reed sent me the livestream himself.

The next day, Mira came to my office to collect her monthly allowance.

Instead, she found my office full of young, beautiful women, with one long-legged beauty sitting directly on my lap.

She stomped her foot in anger. "Get these sluts out of here!"

I sneered and showed her the livestream I had saved. "I don't think they're any cheaper than you."

Her face flushed as she tried to explain. "That was just part of the game. When I'm acting, I kiss other men too, and you never say anything. Why is he different?"

I reached out and pinched the thigh of the woman sitting on my lap.

"I'll give you one choice. Cut Julian off right now, or I'll take all these lovely girls home and show them a good time."

"Think carefully before you choose."

For a moment, Mira looked genuinely stunned.

In six years of marriage, I had never spoken to her like that.

Our marriage had started because of an old promise between our families, not some grand romance. Even so, I had always believed that once a woman became my wife, she became my responsibility.

So I never raised my voice at her.

When she threw a tantrum, I was always the one who lowered my head first. When our daughter was born and Mira showed no interest in taking care of her, I raised Lily myself and never complained.

But this time, I shattered every version of me she thought she knew.

"Grant Whitmore, Julian and I have known each other for more than twenty years. I am not cutting him off," she snapped. "And if you keep making me angry, I'll divorce you."

I gave a cold laugh and raised three fingers.

"In business, no one threatens me. I'll count to three."

"One."

"Grant, I'll tell your grandfather you cheated on me. I'll ask him to make this right."

"Do you have proof?" I asked evenly. "Because I do. A three-minute makeout session should count, don't you think? Two."

"You!" Her face flushed with anger. "I'll give you one chance to take that back. Otherwise, I'll let my tens of millions of followers destroy you online."

I raised the third finger.

"Do not forget who funded your career. Without me, where would those followers have come from? Three."

The next second, she snatched up her phone and called Julian in front of me.

"We're done. Don't contact me again."

She ended the call, her eyes red as she glared at me.

"Happy now? Does it feel good to control your own wife like this?"

"Grant, I married you when I was twenty. I even gave birth to your child. Is this how you treat me?"

"I'm an award-winning actress. Men richer than you beg for one dinner with me. Don't think I can't survive without you."

"I'm only thirty. You should feel lucky you married me. If you dare make me angry again, don't blame me for what I do next."

I smiled, patted the hip of the model sitting beside me, and said, "Mira, you are beautiful. But you are not twenty anymore. With my position, do you think it would be hard for me to find an eighteen-year-old prettier than you?"

"This is the only chance you get. There will not be another."

Then I told the models to leave.

Mira slammed the door on her way out.

When the office finally went quiet, the smile fell from my face.

Six years.

Even if there had been no love at the beginning, I had spent six years giving her all my attention. How could I not have fallen for her?

Just two nights ago, she had curled up in my arms and said she wanted to call me "Daddy" the way Lily did, so I would spoil her like a little princess too.

I had laughed and tapped the tip of her nose.

"You will always be my little princess. I'd give you my life."

Yet only one day later, after Julian came back into the country, everything changed.

My little princess, who used to cling to me every day, sat on another man's lap and kissed him like I did not exist.

What I did in the office today was not revenge.

It was my final warning.

I wanted her to understand that my indulgence was not permission for her to do whatever she wanted.

That was my last line.

To be fair, I thought she had handled the warning well enough.

That evening, I bought a bouquet of roses and went to her film set to pick her up.

Instead, backstage, I saw Julian holding a plate of fruit and feeding her one bite at a time.

The way they looked at each other was so sticky and intimate it made my stomach turn.

I walked in and threw the bouquet at her feet.

"Mira. Is this what you call cutting him off? Explain."

She stood up impatiently.

"Grant, you're a thirty-year-old man. Can you stop acting like a schoolboy? What are we, kids? Do you really think people just 'stop being friends' like that?"

I stared at her coldly.

"When I said cut him off, I meant you never contact him again. You never meet him again."

"Impossible. If you keep threatening me like this, I'll divorce you. Let's see how you explain that to Grandpa."

I stepped on the roses and ground the petals under my shoe.

"Mira, I told you this afternoon. You only had one chance. Wait for the divorce papers."

Then I turned and left.

Behind me, Julian said in a wounded voice, "Don't fight with your husband because of me. Go after him. I shouldn't have come back."

Mira did not care at all.

"Relax. He's easy to coax. I just have to act cute for a second and his knees go weak. Ignore him."

My knuckles tightened until they went pale.

I called my assistant immediately.

"Nora, have legal draft the divorce agreement. She leaves with nothing. Terminate her spokesperson contract with the company and stop all..."

Before I could finish, another call came in.

It was the caregiver from my grandfather's house.

"Mr. Whitmore, your grandfather... the hospital just issued a critical notice."

My heart dropped.

My eyes burned as I rushed to the hospital, and I told Nora to bring Lily from home.

When I arrived, my grandfather lay in the hospital bed with a head full of white hair, smiling at me.

My eyes nearly filled.

I knew what that kind of sudden brightness meant.

Lily ran to him happily and hugged him.

"Great-Grandpa, I'm here!"

"Good. Good." He patted her back, then looked toward the door. "Where is your mom?"

I wiped the corner of my eye.

"She's filming. I'll call her right now."

Grandpa held my hand.

"You two must be good to each other. Mira is spoiled, yes, but she is not bad. Even if she makes mistakes, be patient with her."

I nodded.

"I know."

I walked out of the room and called Mira.

The phone rang for a long time before she finally answered, her voice bright with smugness.

"Oh, my dear husband. Too embarrassed to apologize face-to-face, so now you're calling?"

"But you really made me angry this time, and you apologized slower than usual. I want punishment. Buy me that blue diamond necklace."

I gripped the phone and forced my voice to remain steady.

"Grandpa is in critical condition. He wants to see you."

There was a pause on the other end.

Her voice trembled slightly.

"How did that happen?"

Before I could answer, I heard Julian beside her.

"Baby, I peeled this shrimp for you myself. Open up."

Then he added, "Huh. I think someone outside the restaurant is acting suspicious. Is Mr. Whitmore having us followed?"

The next second, Mira's sharp voice blasted through the phone.

"Grant Whitmore, are you serious? No wonder you're calling me right now. You sent someone to follow me, didn't you?"

"You are disgusting. This is controlling behavior. You're violating my privacy."

"And now you're lying about Grandpa being in danger just to trick me into coming back. When did you become this petty?"

"Don't call me again. I'll deal with you when I get home tonight."

The call ended.

And with that, the last thread holding my heart in place snapped.

If she had rushed to the hospital, I might have believed Grandpa was right. I might have told myself she was only spoiled and foolish, and that I could pull her back onto the right path.

Now I understood.

This was not innocence.

This was arrogance.

She believed Grant Whitmore would always be her loyal dog.

Fine.

From this moment on, whatever I did, I would no longer hesitate.

By the time I brought Lily home that night, it was already past one in the morning.

After carrying her back to her room, I sat alone on the sofa, smoking one cigarette after another as I waited.

Mira did not return until dawn.

She reeked of alcohol as she threw herself onto me.

"Husband, why are you smoking again? It stinks. As punishment, you are not allowed in my bed tonight."

I gave a cold laugh.

"What happened? Did Julian wear you out? Looks like you really do not have the stamina of a twenty-year-old anymore."

She frowned, grabbed my ashtray, and smashed it on the floor.

"Do not try to put filthy accusations on me."

I suddenly reached out and clamped my fingers around her jaw.

"You smell like him. Do you think I can't tell? Filthier than garbage."

Then I pressed the still-burning end of my cigarette against the collar of her shirt.

She screamed in terror.

"Mira, this is my second warning. For the next while, behave yourself. Otherwise, next time, the cigarette lands on your face."

She shoved me away and burst into tears.

"I'm going to the hospital tomorrow to tell Grandpa what you did."

"No need," I said coldly. "You do not deserve to see him."

Because she would never see him again.

Just minutes earlier, I had received the message.

Grandpa was gone.

As the founder of the Whitmore Group, his death was not something we could announce casually. There were family matters, business arrangements, and funeral procedures to handle.

For the next three days, I prepared his private funeral while working day and night at the company.

Mira did not send even one message.

In the end, Grandpa's funeral was held quietly under my arrangement. Relatives and old friends came to say goodbye.

Soon, the ceremony ended and the guests began to leave.

Just then, Julian rushed in with bruises all over his face, dropped to his knees in front of me, and cried.

"Mr. Whitmore, I was wrong. Please let me go. Tell them to stop beating me."

Mira stormed in right behind him.

"Why are you making everyone in the industry reject Julian's songs? You're cutting off his future!"

"And not only that, you told people to hit him every time they saw him. I hate this billionaire bully act of yours. Picking on an honest man? You owe Julian an apology."