Chapter 1

“I will divorce her. I only love you.”

Calvin Ashford’s voice was clearly heard.

Camelia Collyn froze. She stood behind the half-open door of a VIP room in a club. Her hand gripped the handle of the small bag at her side, while her shoulders tensed unconsciously. She had just arrived, intending to give a small surprise, bringing a cake because today marked their third wedding anniversary. However, what she heard instead was a sentence that made her chest feel as if it had been struck by something hard.

She recognized that voice. The voice that had been part of her life for three years, even though it was rarely directed at her with warmth. Slowly, Camelia took one step closer, just enough to see inside the room.

Calvin was standing facing a woman. The woman’s long hair fell neatly down her back, her face beautiful with a gentle smile.

“Is that true?” Samantha asked softly, her voice sounding sweet. “What about your wife?”

Calvin snorted lightly. His expression was flat, as if the topic was completely unimportant.

“She’s just a substitute,” he answered casually. “I married her because I was forced to. If three years ago you hadn’t left, I would never have married her.”

Camelia swallowed. Her throat felt dry. The tips of her fingers trembled, but she forced her body to remain still.

Calvin continued, his voice sounding more confident. “Believe me. For the past three years, I’ve kept my heart and my body only for you. Because I was sure that someday you would come back.”

Those words were like a knife. Camelia felt her chest tighten. Her breathing became shallow, while her ears rang. Three years. Three years she had tried to be a proper wife. Watching her behavior, holding back her expectations, and convincing herself that the distance between them was only a matter of time.

It turned out the answer was that simple. She was only a substitute, and her husband intended to divorce her.

Samantha smiled, then stepped closer. Camelia saw clearly when the woman stood on tiptoe and briefly kissed Calvin’s cheek. There was no rejection at all from Calvin.

Instead, Calvin smiled. A smile Camelia had never received.

Camelia clenched her fists. Her nails pressed into her palms until they hurt. Her shoulders dropped, as if all the strength in her body had drained away in a single breath. She wanted to go in, wanted to ask, wanted to be angry. But her legs felt heavy, as if they were rooted to the floor.

Finally, Camelia stepped back. Then another step.

She turned around without a sound.

Outside, the air felt cold even though the night was not rainy. Camelia walked quickly toward her car, opened the door, then sat down without immediately starting the engine. Her chest rose and fell as she tried to calm herself. Her eyes burned, but no tears fell.

“Enough,” she murmured softly.

Camelia remembered her husband’s words about keeping himself for three years. She laughed bitterly; she had just realized that the reason her husband had never wanted to touch her was because his body was only for his first love.

“BASTARD! YOU DAMN JERK!” Camelia shouted.

Then, Camelia wiped away her tears. There was no use crying over a bastard like Calvin.

Camelia started her car and drove away from that place. The night streets looked empty, city lights shimmering faintly behind the windshield. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, while her jaw hardened.

Ten years. She let out a small, soundless laugh.

Ten years ago, Calvin Ashford had once saved her when she was about to drown in the sea. At that time, Camelia was still an innocent girl who knew nothing about love. The man had pulled her to the surface, held her so she could keep breathing, and said in a panicked voice, “Hold on to me. Don’t let go.”

From that day on, Camelia had never truly let him go.

The love she had quietly kept for ten years now felt like a cruel joke.

“How funny,” she murmured.

Camelia arrived home. She closed the door, placed her bag and the still-intact cake box on the table. She stared at it for a moment, then looked away.

She stepped into the bathroom.

Warm water flowed over her body. Camelia leaned her forehead against the tiled wall, letting the water run down her back. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her thoughts.

“Keeping your heart and your body,” she said softly, mimicking Calvin’s voice.

The corner of her lips lifted into a crooked smile.

“Alright,” she said quietly. “If that’s the case, tonight we end this charade.”

Camelia took a bar of soap with a scent that was strong yet soft at the same time. The warm floral fragrance filled the room, making her head feel slightly light. She scrubbed her body slowly, as if preparing for something important.

After finishing, she stood in front of the mirror. Her black hair was still wet, her skin clean and fragrant. Her eyes stared at her own reflection, cold yet calm.

“I’ve been patient enough,” she said to the mirror.

Camelia opened the wardrobe and took out a thin maroon nightgown. The fabric fell along the curves of her body, transparent without looking cheap. She put it on with relaxed movements, then sprayed perfume on her wrists and behind her ears.

The scent was intoxicating.

Not long after, footsteps were heard from outside the room.

Calvin had come home.

Camelia sat on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs in a relaxed position. The bedroom door opened, and Calvin entered while loosening his tie. He paused for a moment when he saw Camelia.

“You’re not asleep yet?” Calvin asked flatly.

Camelia slowly turned her head. A small smile appeared on her face—not the gentle smile she usually wore, but one that was hard to read.

“Did you forget? Today is our wedding anniversary,” she replied calmly. “I thought I would wait for you and celebrate it.”

Calvin frowned. His gaze unconsciously dropped, then lifted again. He looked uncomfortable with Camelia’s appearance.

“Oh, sorry, I forgot,” he said without caring about Camelia’s feelings. “I’m tired. I don’t have time to celebrate.”

Camelia stood up and stepped closer. Her movements were slow, and she was very confident.

“Tired?” she repeated. “I’m tired too, Calvin. Very tired.”

Calvin sighed. “If you’re tired, you should just rest.”

“I don’t want to,” Camelia said softly. “I want to celebrate it.”

Calvin fell silent. He was starting to feel uncomfortable with Camelia’s gaze; tonight it was hard for him to deny that Camelia was very tempting.

Camelia lifted her chin, looking into her husband’s eyes without hesitation. Then her fingers touched Calvin’s lips and moved down to his neck and chest.

“Camelia! Don’t seduce me!”

“Relax,” Camelia smiled faintly. “I just want to celebrate our anniversary.”

Calvin turned his face away. “I don’t want to! I’m tired.”

Then Camelia walked past Calvin toward the small table, taking a glass of water she had prepared earlier. Her hand was steady.

Camelia turned back, a sly smile curving on her lips as she remembered Calvin’s words about the nights he had saved for another woman.

“Didn’t you once say,” she spoke softly, “that we have to try harder as husband and wife?”

Calvin stared at her sharply. “What do you mean?”

Camelia shrugged lightly. “Nothing. I just want to be a good wife. At least for tonight.”

She lifted the glass slightly, her eyes never leaving Calvin’s face.

“Enough, Camelia! Stop seducing me! I will never be tempted,” Calvin said, even though he had already lost control. He swallowed several times, and of course, Camelia noticed.

Camelia stepped closer again. Now she stood directly in front of Calvin, both of her arms looping around her husband’s neck.

“Am I wrong for seducing my own husband?!” Camelia kissed Calvin’s lips briefly and succeeded in making Calvin lose control even more; again and again he swallowed hard.

“CAMELIA COLLYN! FINE, IF THIS IS WHAT YOU WANT! THEN I WILL MAKE IT HAPPEN!”