Chapter 1

Three years into their marriage, Julian Carter returned.

For those three years, Logan Phillips had given Vivian Brooks everything—tending to her with quiet devotion at home, while drinking himself sick, deal after deal, for her company.

Three years of blood, sweat, and silent sacrifice—all undone by two words: "He's back."

Logan didn't argue. He signed the divorce papers, resigned from his position, and vanished without a trace.

But Vivian's life fell apart like an overboiled pot.

She showed up at his door, clutching a stack of voided contracts, the once-proud CEO now broken. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her gaze lowered, as she finally whispered, "Logan… help me."

Logan smiled. His voice was calm, but there was steel beneath it.

"Vivian, if you're asking for help, act like it. I played the loyal dog for three years. Maybe it's time for a change."

…

Flashback: Another drunken night.

Logan staggered through the door, gripping the contract folder like a lifeline. The living room lights were on.

Vivian sat on the couch, a cigarette burning between her fingers, her brows furrowed in irritation. The stench of alcohol hit her, and she crushed the cigarette with clear disdain.

"You're back late," she said. The words might've been concern—but they sounded like a scolding, cold and distant.

Drunk and flushed, Logan grinned and held out the folder like a kid showing off a trophy. His hazy eyes held nothing but her.

"Viv, look—I got the Belgaro deal. Isn't this what you always wanted? If it matters to you, I'll make it happen, no matter what. I was unstoppable tonight. Drank every last one of them under the table. So? Am I good or am I good?"

For just a second, the tension in her brow eased.

She glanced down at the disheveled man kneeling before her, desperation written all over his face—like a dog begging for praise.

She took the folder and murmured a quiet, "Thank you."

Then, after a brief hesitation, she pulled out a document from her bag, her expression hardening.

"Logan, let's get a divorce."

Her words struck like lightning.

Logan sobered instantly.

He stared at the papers in her hand, stunned, then let out a soft, disbelieving laugh.

"A divorce? But we've only been married for three—"

"Julian came back."

Silence fell like dust after an avalanche.

That name had always been forbidden in their marriage.

Three years ago, Vivian's childhood sweetheart, Julian Carter, had left her to study medicine overseas—vanishing without a word. His absence shattered her. She collapsed inward, drowning in despair.

It was Vivian's grandma who found Logan—a man who looked eerily like Julian—and made him an offer: Pretend to love Vivian, and in return, his dying mother would receive funds for the treatment she needed.

His mother had leukemia. He didn't hesitate. He said yes.

He staged a "chance" meeting with Vivian and launched into relentless pursuit.

Soon, everyone in the industry knew that the icy CEO Vivian Brooks had a simp trailing after her. Say the word, and he'd do anything. Call, and he'd come running, no matter the hour.

Pathetic. Laughable. A beggar at the throne of a queen—someone Vivian would never spare a second look.

Until that one night.

Vivian had pushed herself too far to close a deal, drinking until she vomited blood. In her haze, she called Logan.

He came instantly.

That night, he outdrank every rival, passing out himself—landing in the hospital for two days. When he woke up, the contract was still clutched in his hand.

After that, Vivian never looked down on him again.

"Logan, will you marry me?" she asked.

For two years, he'd waited for her heart to turn toward him.

Logan thought the storm had passed. That happiness had finally come.

But later, he learned the truth from one of her friends. That night, the only reason she agreed to marry him was because Julian had posted a photo with another woman.

She never loved him. And by then, Logan was in too deep to climb out.

He'd even forgotten that this had always been a transaction.

Tears burned in Logan's eyes as he clenched the divorce papers tighter.

Three years of marriage—every Brooks Corporation deal had been won at the bottom of a wine glass, paid for with his health and self-respect. The quiet, bookish man he'd once been had vanished, replaced by someone who stood silently behind Vivian, drank himself sick in her stead, and swallowed every humiliation without complaint.

Yet none of it mattered. Not his devotion, not the value he'd built for her company. Julian's return erased everything in an instant.

One announcement, and his entire world crumbled without a fight.

For the first time, Logan felt… exhausted.

"Alright."

The word slipped out, soft and defeated, barely more than a whisper in the heavy silence.

By dawn the next morning, Vivian was gone.

Logan washed up mechanically. From the depths of his suitcase, he pulled out a contract and drove to the Brooks estate.

The air in Grace Thompson's sitting room was thick and still.

He sat upright on the sofa, just as he had three years ago—composed, but changed.

"Grace, the three-year agreement is ending. I'd like to file for divorce."

Grace hesitated. "You're sure?"

She'd witnessed everything Logan had done these past years. Once, she'd even believed he'd stay by Vivian's side forever.

Logan's gaze drifted to the window. Two sparrows perched together on a branch outside.

A long silence stretched before he finally spoke. "You know why I was with Vivian. My mother was sick. And I looked enough like Julian to be useful. The agreement's almost up. Julian's back. She… doesn't need me anymore."

Grace exhaled heavily, regret weighing her voice.

"So you knew? I truly thought she'd started to care for you. Even stone warms after three years in the sun."

She paused, then added gently, "If this is your choice, I won't stand in your way. Three years ago, you gave up furthering your studies for your mother. If you still want to pursue that, I'll arrange it."

Outside, a nest of hatchlings chirped hungrily as their parents darted back and forth with food.

Logan's expression grew distant.

Three years frozen in place for Vivian. It was time to move on—to find his own life.

"If possible… I'd like to go to Marlon City." His voice held quiet resolve.

Something unreadable flickered in his eyes.

"The agreement expires in three days. I'd like the paperwork settled before then."

Grace hadn't expected such finality. She sighed, her tone tinged with sadness. "Marlon City? I'll need time. Within the month, I'll have a new identity ready for you—as compensation."

She paused for awhile before continuing, "My eightieth birthday is the day after tomorrow. Who knows when we'll meet again? Stay for a drink before you go."

Just as she finished speaking, the door flew open.

Vivian stormed in, windblown and furious. "Logan, what the hell is this? You promised to help me last night, and now you're tattling to Grandma?"

Grace's sharp eyes caught the redness around Logan's eyes. She immediately understood everything.

Her voice turned icy. "Tattling? I called him here. You've been too busy with work to lift a finger for my birthday party. Am I not allowed his help?"

Vivian swallowed the rest of her accusations, forcing a smile as she tried to smooth things over.

"Grandma, I've just been caught up with work lately. I didn't mean to neglect you. If there's anything you need, just let Logan handle it. He'll take care of everything."

She cast a quick, guarded glance at Logan.

"I will," he replied simply, just as he had for the past three years.

When they left the Brooks estate, Logan, as always, opened the car door for her before sliding into the driver's seat himself.

He didn't say a word the entire way, which left Vivian feeling oddly unsettled.

"I misunderstood you," she offered.

Logan didn't show much emotion. He simply said, "It's fine."

Two simple words—but they unsettled her.

"You're upset with me, aren't you? The company's swamped with new projects, but don't worry—even after the divorce, your job's safe. You've been… an exceptional employee."