Chapter 2

Calvin pulled Camelia into his arms and roughly closed the distance between them. His lips pressed against Camelia’s with demanding force, as if all the control he had been holding onto collapsed in an instant.

“Calvin—” Camelia’s breath broke off.

The kiss deepened, forcing Camelia to clutch her husband’s suit just to stay standing. Calvin’s chest rose and fell, his breathing heavy and uneven. His hands held Camelia’s waist firmly, as if afraid she might run away.

In her heart, Camelia smiled.

“Yes, I did it! Hey, Young Master Calvin’s beloved pure white moon, tonight I managed to seduce him. And I am the first woman to touch him,” Camelia said to herself.

She returned the kiss gently yet deliberately. Her lips moved slowly, unhurried, just enough to make Calvin lose his rhythm. When the man tried to take control, Camelia instead pulled back slightly.

“Why did you stop?” Calvin’s voice was low and hoarse.

Camelia lifted her gaze. “I just want you to truly want it.”

Those words made Calvin fall silent for a moment.

He kissed Camelia again, this time deeper, more ravenous. Camelia closed her eyes, letting herself sink into it. She shifted her lips to the corner of Calvin’s jaw, then to his neck. Her kisses were light, yet intentional.

Calvin let out a long breath. “Camelia…”

Her name slipped from his lips so naturally.

Camelia smiled faintly, then whispered softly, “Isn’t this what we should have done a long time ago, darling?”

Calvin did not answer. He simply closed his eyes, allowing Camelia to kiss his neck until faint marks were left behind. His arms tightened around his wife’s body.

That night passed without words. Only silence, meaningful breaths, and an intimacy that should have happened long ago.

For Calvin, that night felt like a release he had never realized he needed.

Four in the morning.

Camelia woke up first. The room was still dark, with only faint city lights slipping through the gap in the curtains. She turned her head to the side.

Calvin was sleeping soundly. Of course—because after reaching his release last night, she had given him a glass of plain water mixed with sleeping pills.

The man’s face looked peaceful, far from the cold demeanor he usually showed when awake. Camelia lifted her hand, almost touching that face, then stopped herself. Her eyes burned. Tears fell silently.

“Finally,” she whispered softly, “I can touch you for the first—and perhaps the last—time.”

She rose slowly and put on her clothes. Every movement was done carefully so as not to wake Calvin. After that, Camelia stood for a moment at the edge of the bed, staring at the man she had loved for ten years, and at the same time, the man who shattered her heart in a single night.

“Thank you for last night,” she said almost inaudibly. “I’m sorry… I give up.”

Camelia walked to the dressing room. A suitcase was already lying in the corner. She had prepared everything since yesterday—clothes, documents, personal belongings. Not much. She had never truly felt that this house was hers.

She closed the suitcase, then returned to the bedroom.

On the bedside table, Camelia placed a brown folder. Inside it was the divorce letter she had already signed.

She stared at it for a long time.

“Rather than you divorcing me,” she murmured, “it’s better that I divorce you and go as far away as possible.”

Camelia then placed her phone beside the letter, deliberately so Calvin would not be able to contact her.

Before leaving, Camelia turned back one last time. Her gaze fell on Calvin, who was still fast asleep.

“Goodbye,” she said softly. “I hope we never meet again for the rest of our lives.”

She closed the bedroom door quietly.

Morning came.

Sunlight slipped into the room. Calvin groaned softly, then opened his eyes. His head felt heavy, but his body was relaxed.

He turned to the side. Empty. Camelia was gone.

Calvin sat up and rubbed his face. “Camelia?” he called briefly.

There was no answer.

He stood up and looked at the bedside table. A folder and a phone lay neatly there. His brows furrowed. Calvin took the folder and opened it.

His face tightened.

“A divorce letter?” he muttered.

His hand clenched unconsciously. He read Camelia’s name, already written with a signature beneath it.

Calvin drew in a sharp breath.

“What is this?” his voice rose, even though there was no one else in the room.

He took Camelia’s phone and tried to turn it on. But he found nothing.

Calvin stood frozen in the middle of the room, his thoughts spinning. Last night still felt vivid—the touch and kisses from Camelia. Even her name, repeatedly slipping from his own lips.

“She left?” he said softly, as if only now realizing the truth. “After she seduced me last night?”

Calvin stood rigid for a few seconds before his anger finally exploded.

“DAMN IT! YOU WRETCHED WOMAN!”

His hand crushed the divorce letter until it wrinkled. His chest rose and fell, his breathing rapid. He threw the brown folder onto the bed, then noticed something else on the bedside table.

Two marriage books.

Calvin grabbed them roughly. His eyes narrowed, his jaw hardened. The books lay neatly there, as if Camelia had deliberately left them behind as a sign that everything was truly over.

“What does this mean?” he muttered angrily. “She left after… after last night?”

Calvin’s gaze shifted to the bed. His body suddenly tensed when he saw a faint red stain on the white sheets.

His expression changed.

“What the hell is this…?”

His hands trembled. Last night’s memories replayed in his head—the way Camelia touched him, the way she whispered his name, and how he truly lost control.

His anger surged, mixed with something he did not want to admit. Calvin grabbed Camelia’s phone from the table and threw it hard against the wall.

CRASH!

The phone fell to the floor, its screen cracked. Calvin swept his arm across the table. The glass, the small lamp—everything fell and scattered.

“DAMN IT!” he shouted again.

He paced back and forth in the room, running his hand through his hair. His shirt was not properly buttoned yet, but he did not care. His chest burned, his mind in chaos.

“She can’t just leave like this,” he muttered. “Not after what happened last night.”

Calvin stopped abruptly. He took his own phone and immediately called someone.

“Hello, Ronal,” Calvin said coldly, almost growling. “Listen to me carefully.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I don’t care how you do it,” Calvin continued firmly. “Within less than one hour, find Madam.”

Ronal fell silent for a moment. “Madam Camelia?”

“Who else!” Calvin barked. “Find her. Wherever she went.”

“Yes, Sir,” Ronal replied quickly. “Do you have any clues?”

Calvin glanced at the suitcase that was no longer in the room. “She prepared everything already. Don’t be stupid. Use all the connections we have.”

“Understood, Sir.”

The call ended. Calvin lowered his phone slowly. His hand was still clenched, the veins in his neck taut.

“What are you thinking, Camelia?” he muttered in a low voice.

He looked back at the bed. The red stain was still there, like a harsh slap to his awareness. For the first time, Calvin felt something unfamiliar spreading in his chest.

Not just anger.

“Why did you leave without saying anything?” he said softly. “Wasn’t it you who wanted it last night?”

He sat on the edge of the bed, bowed his head, and rubbed his face roughly. His memory returned to Camelia’s words last night. That gaze. That unreadable smile.

“Was all of that just a game?” he whispered.

Calvin let out a short, bitter laugh. “How dare you play with me.”

Yet beneath his anger, a growing unease became clearer. He picked up the wrinkled divorce letter and read it again, as if hoping to find something he had missed.

Still, there was only Camelia’s firm signature.

“How bold,” he said again, this time more quietly.

Calvin stood up and kicked the chair until it fell over. The room was now completely in disarray, reflecting his own mind.

“I won’t let you leave just like this,” he said coldly. “Not after you made me like this.”