Tires screeched violently, followed by the harsh, jarring slam of the brakes. Cheyenne Lawrence was thrown forward, her head slamming hard against the back of the front seat. A blinding pain instantly exploded across her smooth forehead. "I-I'm sorry, Mr. Foley," Chris Richards, the assistant, stammered, his voice trembling. "Someone stepped into the road without warning..." "Drive faster." Kelvin Foley, Cheyenne's husband, issued the order in a voice like ice. He kept his gaze stubbornly fixed out the window, as though he could force the journey to end sooner—as if the courthouse might materialize simply by the sheer force of his stare. Cheyenne painfully raised her head, a confused ringing filling her ears. The sharp flare of pain from the impact had already faded into a dull numbness. Today was the day Cheyenne was finally getting a divorce. All because the other woman had returned. Through damp, blurred eyes, she caught her reflection in the rearview mirror. Her brown hair framed a face that was far too pale, etched with exhaustion. The eyes that had once shone so brightly were deadened today—the one thousand, one hundred and sixty-second day of her marriage to Kelvin. For over three years, Cheyenne had officially borne the title of Mrs. Foley. In reality, she had lived like a ghost in his freezing manor, waiting for the rare moments this man returned home—only for him to look right through her. She was merely tolerated. Barely even that. At the thought, a hollow laugh escaped her lips. She managed a faint smile, though inside, she was nothing but a wasteland. Long before she became Mrs. Foley, she had given her entire heart to Kelvin. Yet, that devotion had earned her absolutely nothing. At the sound of her laugh, Kelvin's expression darkened. He glanced at her, catching a strange mix of self-deprecation, contempt, and silent agony on her features. With the fresh bruises blooming on her chin and forehead, she looked almost pitiful. He cursed inwardly, shoving the thought aside. He had never wanted this marriage; his grandfather had forced it on him. Every month, he had been obligated to enter her room and fulfill his marital duties. Just the memory of it stirred a volatile mix of anger and disgust in his gut. He snatched her chin in a brutal grip, forcing her to meet his furious glare. "What are you up to now? We are signing those divorce papers today, no matter what," he growled. Tears pricked her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She would smile through gritted teeth if she had to. "My dear husband," she said, her voice steady, "we only have about ten minutes left of our marriage. Why are you in such a rush?" He dropped his hand instantly, as if he'd touched something vile, and pulled away without a word. Drawing a crisp white handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped his fingers with slow, exaggerated care. The sight made Cheyenne's chest tighten. Ice seeped into her veins. "Don't call me that," he spat, glaring at her. "You don't have the right." She moistened her red lips and offered an elegant smile, tinged with bitterness. "You're right. I don't deserve to." Her hands clenched against her thighs, her nails biting into her palms. But that physical sting was trivial compared to the pain he had already put her through. The black Lamborghini soon glided to a halt in front of the courthouse. Kelvin's lawyer was already waiting for them. "Ms. Lawrence," the lawyer began briskly. "Your marriage to Mr. Foley has been relatively brief and has resulted in few joint assets. Furthermore, you share no children. Out of fairness, Mr. Foley has agreed to pay you a substantial alimony." At the mention of children, a bitter smile tugged at Cheyenne's lips. Every time they had shared a bed, Kelvin had taken strict precautions to avoid a pregnancy. Even when his grandfather had pressured them for an heir, she had taken the blame, hiding behind fabricated health issues. Cheyenne shoved the thought away. A child wouldn't have changed a thing. She turned her attention back to the lawyer. "I don't want it." The words dropped between them, heavy and absolute. Kelvin let out a harsh scoff, his gaze dripping with contempt. "Why pretend not to care about the money?" he sneered. "You only married me for the Foley family's money anyway." His mockery pierced Cheyenne like an icy blade, tearing away the last shred of dignity she had tried to maintain. All those sleepless nights managing the family's affairs, all the times she had used her medical skills to care for him, all the crushing loneliness she had endured in that cold mansion—in his eyes, it was all reduced to a self-serving calculation. Her fingers curled into tight fists, her knuckles turning bone-white. She stood in silence for a long moment, swallowing the bitter bile rising in her throat. When she finally looked up, her voice wasn't loud, but every word rang with crystal clarity in the quiet hall. "Is Abbie really the reason you're willing to risk your company's reputation for an affair?" Kelvin's temper flared. "That's not the kind of relationship I have with Abbie!" he snapped. "You vicious—" He didn't get to finish. A thick stack of divorce papers smacked hard against his chest. The pages exploded outward, scattering across the floor like snow. Cheyenne's thin, bitter mask completely crumbled, replaced by a hollow indifference born of sheer exhaustion. "As you wish." She turned on her heel and walked away, never once looking back. She knew Kelvin would finally realize what a massive mistake he had made.

Cheyenne stepped back into the Foley villa, the night's chill still clinging to her clothes. Even today, after they had gone together to finalize their separation, Kelvin hadn't bothered to drive her back. Pushing past the exhaustion and the deep, lingering aches in her body, she had only come to pack her things. The moment she stepped into the living room, she froze. Two people sat on the sofa. Kelvin was there in dark, understated loungewear. His features, usually so harsh and distant, were softened by a rare, gentle look. Across from him sat a young woman in a white floral dress. Long brown hair cascaded down her back. She had fine, delicate features and a fragile air that practically begged to be protected. She looked like a delicate hothouse flower, ready to snap in the slightest breeze. Abbie Berry. The woman he truly loved had finally come back. The daughter of the Berry family, Abbie had lost everything when a car accident took her father, Foster Berry, and bankruptcy claimed their family business. Her mother had quickly remarried, leaving her without a real home. It was then that Foster had entrusted Abbie to Corey Foley, Kelvin's father, on his deathbed. Corey had raised her like his own daughter. Kelvin, barely older than her, had grown up under the same roof and attended the same schools. Their bond had formed naturally. If not for Abbie's poor health, the result of a hereditary illness, Corey would have happily seen her and Kelvin married long ago. "What are you doing here?" Kelvin snapped, glaring at Cheyenne. To him, her showing up right after the divorce was a deliberate provocation. Did she want to upset Abbie? The sheer suspicion in his eyes drew a dry, silent laugh from Cheyenne. "Kelvin, don't be so hard on her," Abbie murmured gently. "After all, she's still the lady of the house. I'm just a guest." She lowered her eyes, playing the picture of embarrassment. Kelvin didn't miss a beat. "As of today, she isn't." Abbie widened her eyes in feigned shock, though a flicker of deep satisfaction crossed her gaze when she looked at Cheyenne. "I left her. We're divorced. She has nothing to do with me anymore." He spoke bluntly, making absolutely sure the woman he loved wouldn't misunderstand. "I... I'm sorry, I didn't know," Abbie stammered, her face twisting with manufactured worry. "Cheyenne, I can talk to him. How could this happen so fast?" The fragile, sympathetic act made Cheyenne's stomach turn. She watched them for a few seconds before a wry smile touched her lips. "That won't be necessary. I've always known you were the one he loved. This divorce suits me just fine. At least now I can date attractive men without having to hide it." Kelvin's glare darkened the second the words left her mouth. Abbie, on the other hand, felt a swell of smug satisfaction. Hearing Cheyenne admit to Kelvin's love for her was all the reassurance she needed. Deep down, she was already celebrating. There was never going to be a place for Cheyenne here. Kelvin didn't respond to the jab. He simply stared at her, his eyes cold and distant. "I'll pack my bags and leave immediately. If you're worried, you can stand over my shoulder and make sure I don't take anything of yours," Cheyenne declared, lifting the hem of her dress before heading for the stairs. Her movements were fluid, carrying an undeniable grace. Every step she took was so measured and elegant that it sparked a bitter flash of envy in Abbie. It was impossible to deny—Cheyenne was flawless from every angle. Abbie had known Kelvin since childhood, and over the years, she had discreetly fended off countless women drawn to his orbit. Yet, only one had ever managed to become Mrs. Foley—Cheyenne, shielded by the favor of Kelvin's grandfather. The position Abbie had coveted for over a decade had been effortlessly snatched up by another woman. The fact that Kelvin's first wife was Cheyenne, and not her, remained a festering wound, lodged like a splinter in Abbie's heart. After a short silence, a harsh, calculating gleam flashed through her eyes. A second later, she smoothed her features back into a mask of gentle concern. "Kelvin, let me go help her pack." "Do whatever you want," he replied flatly, turning to leave the room. Upstairs, Cheyenne stopped in front of the bedroom she had lived in for three years. Looking at it now, a silent, suffocating regret squeezed her chest. Once, she had dreamed of marrying Kelvin and truly sharing a life with him. She had personally picked out the sheets, the curtains, every last detail of this space. Yet, he had rarely ever set foot inside. A soft click broke the silence as the door was pushed open behind her. Cheyenne turned to find Abbie standing on the threshold, wearing a perfectly friendly smile. "Miss Lawrence, let me give you a hand with your packing," she offered, stepping slowly into the room. Cheyenne hesitated. Was this genuine kindness, or just another calculated provocation? "That won't be necessary. I don't have much to take. Besides, I wouldn't want to trouble someone so important to Kelvin, Miss Berry," she replied evenly. She opened the wardrobe. Inside, her clothes took up almost all the space—a sea of light tones, pinks, whites, and blues. Right in the middle hung a single black suit belonging to Kelvin. Surrounded by those soft colors, the dark fabric stood out, quiet yet imposing. After a brief pause, Cheyenne began pulling her things down to fold them. Her pale fingers brushed against the fabric of the suit, making it sway slightly on its hanger. For countless lonely nights, she had clutched that very jacket to her chest for comfort, lulled to sleep by the faint, familiar scent of him woven into the threads. Abbie glanced into the wardrobe and immediately understood what the lone suit meant. A flash of poorly concealed triumph lit up her face as she breathed softly. "I never would have imagined that, after all this time, Kelvin would still keep this suit." She reached out and pulled it from the rack, holding it against herself. Smoothing down one of the sleeves, she deliberately revealed a small, embroidered detail on the cuff—"Abbie." A brutal chill washed over Cheyenne, freezing her in place as if she'd been plunged into a lake of ice. Satisfied with the reaction she'd drawn, Abbie smiled, her chin tilting up in pride. "I gave it to him for his twentieth birthday. At the time, he told me it didn't fit right and that he had thrown it away. But clearly..." She let the sentence hang in the air. He had kept it. He had treasured it. A wave of profound disgust rolled through Cheyenne. The garment she had sought comfort in all those nights had come from Abbie. And the latter continued, her tone almost cheerful, "Oh, look, the photo frame is still here. This was from when Kelvin played in the basketball championship. I came to cheer him on as a cheerleader." It was the only photo in the room. Kelvin hated having his picture taken. He refused to pose, and he refused to let anyone snap candid shots of him. Even for official corporate communications, he preferred to remain invisible. They had been married for three years, and they didn't have a single photo together. Cheyenne knew he had never wanted this marriage. Even when his grandfather had demanded they take wedding photos, Kelvin had shut it down without a second thought. For Abbie, however, he had made an exception. Even though Cheyenne had known his feelings for Abbie for a long time, her heart still contracted with a sharp, familiar pain. After a long silence, the corners of Cheyenne's mouth slowly curved upward. The softness in her gaze morphed into something sharp and unsettling. She closed the distance between them, crossing her arms and tilting her head slightly to the side. Leaning in close to Abbie's ear, she dropped her voice to a whisper. "You know, he still wears this suit when he's in bed with me... and to him, it spices things up." Abbie's smile froze. Her hands clenched into tight fists against her skirt.

A violent rage surged through Abbie as she stared at Cheyenne's serene expression. She wanted to tear the woman to pieces. Kelvin cared so much about her... and yet he married this woman. He touched her... The thought squeezed Abbie's heart. She quickly composed herself. It had only happened because she hadn't been around. Now that she was back, she would never let another woman get close to Kelvin. "You two were married, so... I suppose it's normal," she managed, forcing a stiff smile. Cheyenne took in the hypocritical facade, easily reading the venom beneath it. She ran a hand through her long hair with calculated casualness. "Whether he did it for a baby or because his grandfather pressured him, he still slept with me. And since I'm officially his ex-wife, let me give you a little advice: Kelvin really isn't very good in bed. It hurt every single time." "You bitch!" Tears of pure rage welled in Abbie's eyes, her face turning a livid shade of red. "Don't act so arrogant, Cheyenne. Kelvin threw you away! I will be the rightful lady of the Foley family!" How dare this abandoned woman still try to provoke her? "Well, well... have you finally dropped the sweet act and shown your true colors? I have to admit, I was Mrs. Foley for three long years. That's more than enough time to build up quite a grudge, isn't it?" At that exact moment, a tall, imposing figure appeared in the doorway, instantly dropping the temperature in the room. His gaze swept the scene before landing on Abbie's tear-filled eyes. Then he shifted his attention to Cheyenne, his voice dropping low. "If you're angry with me, why take it out on Abbie?" At his words, Abbie burst into fresh tears and threw herself against his chest. Kelvin gently pushed her away, leaving Abbie both surprised and stung. His eyes remained locked on Cheyenne's perfectly calm face. She offered an innocent shrug and a smile. "I just told her you were bad in bed. And she started crying." "Cheyenne Lawrence!" In a blur of motion, his hand clamped around her slender throat, squeezing hard. Meeting his gaze, now heavy with cold violence, Cheyenne felt something permanently crack inside her. It wasn't just physical pain, but a clean, irreparable break in her heart. She began to cough violently, gasping for air. "Let me go... let go..." Kelvin was beside himself with fury. His anger carried the raw brutality of a cornered beast. His dark, icy eyes reflected Cheyenne's face, rapidly flushing red from the struggle and lack of oxygen. Her vision blurred, black spots dancing across her sight. Pure survival instinct took over. Without thinking, she tipped her head and sank her teeth into his arm. She bit down with everything she had. Her jaw trembled as her teeth tore into his flesh. A sharp, metallic taste flooded her mouth. She felt the sudden warmth of blood, and in that absurd moment, a bitter smile stretched her lips. Her eyes shone with dampness, as if the tears she had strictly forbidden were finally fighting to escape. Kelvin was caught completely off guard. His body froze for a split second before he slowly loosened his grip, letting out a ragged exhale. As despicable as he found her, he couldn't actually go that far. He completely ignored the bleeding wound on his arm. Turning his back to her, he declared in a voice made of ice, without looking at her, "You can leave. But don't you ever set foot in the Foley villa again." Finally free to breathe, Cheyenne doubled over, coughing uncontrollably as her face burned scarlet. She raised her head with difficulty, staring at his tall silhouette from behind. Lowering her gaze, she could no longer hide the single tear that slowly slid down her cheek. "Kelvin... your hand... what are we going to do?" How could she be so vicious?" Abbie cried out, rushing forward to cling to his arm between sobs. "It's nothing," he replied curtly. There was something unbearably rehearsed about the entire scene. Cheyenne slowly straightened up, gathering whatever was left of her pride. "Kelvin, there's no need to worry. "We're divorced now, each going our own way." We have absolutely nothing to do with each other anymore. This villa inspires nothing but disgust in me now, and I have zero desire to ever return. Besides, there are plenty of far more charming men waiting for me elsewhere." She flashed a bright, almost provocative smile. Going their separate ways... wasn't that exactly what he had wanted? Kelvin was free now. She grabbed her luggage and turned to leave. Just before crossing the threshold, she glanced back at Abbie and offered a little wave. "Miss Berry, thank you. Thanks to you, I finally see things clearly. This man really isn't as exceptional as everyone claims. I gladly leave him to you." At those words, Kelvin's expression darkened abruptly. Abbie gritted her teeth, forcefully swallowing her anger. In front of Kelvin, she had to remain sweet, fragile, and absolutely flawless. So she settled for a tight, strained smile as she watched Cheyenne walk away, her posture upright and arrogant. Deep down, she was seething. She would make sure Cheyenne paid for this. The Lawrence family estate was located in the bustling district of Akloit. All around it, elegant little villas dotted the landscape. The car pulled to a stop in front of the main entrance. Cheyenne let Reece Gray, her friend, drive off before grabbing her suitcases and walking toward the front door alone. "Miss Lawrence... you're back?" Ewan, the Lawrence family's longtime security guard, opened the door. He had watched her grow up. Despite noticing her red-rimmed eyes, he offered her a warm, sincere smile. "Ewan, it's been a long time." Since her marriage, Cheyenne had almost never returned home, except for Christmas. Ever loyal to his post, Ewan asked no questions. She had barely crossed the threshold when a sharp, biting voice rang out from inside. "Cheyenne, you actually have the nerve to come back? The whole city is talking about your affair and how Kelvin left you. You've brought nothing but shame to the Lawrence family!"