Chapter 3

Nathan lounged beside Lilian, his arm slung over her shoulder as if he owned the space. When he noticed me, he let out an exaggerated sigh.

"The boss is such a mother hen. It's just a little cold, but she's banned me from drinking and even wanted me to skip work. I had to beg her just to get an invite to this dinner."

Lilian responded with a doting smile, tapping the tip of his nose. "Then don't you dare complain when it's time for your medicine later."

They looked like a perfect couple—effortless, intimate, natural.

The divorce papers in my hand suddenly felt weightless. For the first time, I felt a strange, hollow sense of freedom.

At the restaurant, after Lilian exchanged pleasantries with the business partners, she turned to introduce us.

"This is Nathan Ramsey, my department manager," she said, her voice brimming with pride.

When her gaze landed on me, the client's boss frowned in recognition.

"Ah, I remember this young man. Didn't he do time for fraud? Ms. Parson, it's admirable of you to stand by him. Most would have cut ties completely."

Lilian went rigid. She shot me a quick glance, then forced a thin smile and let the remark hang in the air, offering no correction.

Throughout the meeting, she and Nathan sat so close their shoulders touched. She kept throwing me subtle glances—signals to top up his wine, to intercept toasts meant for him.

Their intimacy didn't go unnoticed. One of the partners chuckled, leaning in. "Lilian, you and Nathan make quite the team. Come on, tell us—are you two married?"

The air in the room went still. Lilian's eyes darted toward me, a crack of hesitation in her flawless composure.

Then, in perfect, damning unison, we both answered, "No."

The same word. But the moment I said it, her head whipped toward me, her face a mask of pure shock.

When the clients excused themselves to the restroom, my phone buzzed with a message from her: [It was just an act for the clients. Don't read into it.]

An act for her. The truth for me.

After all, she had already signed the papers.

I read the message, then placed my phone face down on the table.

Lilian, seated across from me, shifted as if to come over. Before she could, I stood and walked out, heading for the restroom.

As I stepped out of the stall, I found Nathan blocking my path, arms crossed, radiating smug superiority.

"Sonny," he sneered, "you're pathetic. What kind of man is so despised by his own wife? If I were you, I'd be too ashamed to show my face."

I turned on the faucet and began washing my hands. "That's no longer your concern, Nathan."

I moved to leave, but he shifted to block the doorway, his eyes sweeping over my clothes with contempt.

"Still wearing those rags? Oh, that's right," he smirked, "Lilian's probably been spending all her money on my new wardrobe. My mistake."

The luxury brands he was draped in seemed to scream the difference between one single dollar… and one hundred million.

A bitter acid rose in my throat. I brushed past him, nearly stumbling in my haste to get away.

When I returned to the private room, I grabbed my things, ready to leave.

Lilian immediately appeared in front of me, her voice uncharacteristically soft. "Wait. I'll give you a ride home later."

I opened my mouth to refuse, but before I could speak, Nathan burst back into the room, his face pale with panic.

All conversation stopped as Lilian instantly dropped my arm and rushed to his side.

He was frantically patting down his pockets, then dumped the contents of his bag onto the table. His expression shifted from confusion to sheer dread.

"Lilian," he finally gasped, his voice sharp with alarm. "My watch… the custom-made one… it's gone!"