Chapter 3: A Slow Change

Three days later.

A tense atmosphere filled the main conference room at Blackwell Group.

Damian Blackwell sat at the head of the table, his sharp gaze fixed on the board members, who sat in uneasy silence.

The market analysis report for the new shopping mall project in the southern district showed unstable projections.

"Is this the best you can do?" Damian's voice cut through the silence like a blade. "This analysis lacks a solid risk mitigation strategy. If we move forward with this now, Blackwell Group will lose its momentum within the first three months."

One of the senior managers cleared his throat nervously.

"We're sorry, Mr. Blackwell. Usually... Mrs. Sienna helps refine the supporting notes and consumer behavior analysis from the perspective of local foundations and community organizations before major meetings like this. This time, we didn't receive any additional data from her."

Damian fell silent.

The silver pen in his hand stopped moving.

His logic refused to acknowledge it, but the facts spoke for themselves.

Over the past year, drawing on her background in business management before her family fell apart, Sienna had always reviewed Damian's meeting files at home.

She often left neatly handwritten notes on his desk, offering a more human-centered perspective that Damian's rigid team of analysts frequently overlooked.

Those small notes were often what made Damian's presentations to investors flawless.

"The meeting is adjourned. Revise this report within twenty-four hours," Damian said coldly before standing up and leaving the room without another glance.

Back in his office, Damian tossed his suit jacket onto the sofa.

His mind refused to settle.

Sienna's distant attitude over the past three days had seriously disrupted his concentration.

The house felt like an empty hotel.

There were no soft footsteps echoing through the halls, no scent of chamomile tea in the evenings.

Only suffocating silence remained.

The phone on his desk vibrated.

His mother, Beatrice, appeared on the screen.

Damian answered the call.

"Yes, Mother?"

"Damian! You need to talk to that trophy wife of yours!" Beatrice's voice rang sharply through the phone, filled with anger. "I just removed her little foundation from the list of principal partners for the Blackwell family's annual charity gala. I replaced it with the Vivian family's foundation. And do you know how your wife responded? She simply sent an official letter stating that she 'accepted the decision respectfully,' without showing me any respect or even begging me to reconsider!"

Damian rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"You removed her foundation? Without my approval?"

"Why would I need your approval? She's not our equal, Damian! We only brought her in back then so she'd appear to be involved in respectable charitable work. Now that Vivian has returned to our circle, that position should be given back to the person who truly deserves it. But Sienna's attitude is unbelievably arrogant! She didn't even come to see me to apologize or say anything at all!"

"Enough. Just handle your own event, Mother," Damian interrupted curtly before ending the call without waiting for another response.

He leaned back in his executive chair.

His eyes drifted toward the ceiling.

Why was Sienna letting go of everything so easily?

That foundation was the only thing she had built with her own hard work, using what remained of her late mother's assets.

Why, when his mother had trampled on something that belonged to Sienna, had she stopped coming to him in tears or asking for his help as she used to?

The answer struck Damian slowly, yet mercilessly.

Because Sienna no longer cared.

**

That evening.

Damian returned home earlier than usual.

Several corners of the mansion were shrouded in darkness.

He walked toward the small study overlooking the back garden, where Sienna usually spent her time.

The door was slightly ajar.

Damian glanced inside.

Sienna was packing several books into a small cardboard box.

On the desk lay an official court document, left open.

Damian narrowed his eyes.

Although it was upside down, he could clearly make out the words at the top of the page.

Petition for Divorce.

His heartbeat quickened.

A surge of anger and disbelief welled up inside him.

Their contract had always stipulated that they would divorce after one year.

But seeing Sienna prepare everything so calmly and methodically—as though she couldn't wait to erase the Blackwell name from her life—dealt another painful blow to Damian's pride.

He pushed the door fully open, startling Sienna and making her turn toward him.

"So, this is what you've been doing behind my back?" Damian asked, his voice trembling as he struggled to contain an unfamiliar surge of emotion.