Never Again Yours

When Gideon handed me the signed agreement, impatience was written all over his face. "From now on, if it's anything about the renovation contract, talk to Chelsea. Do whatever she says."

He had no idea that the document he had just signed was not a renovation contract at all. It was our divorce agreement.

I had wanted us to part on good terms.

The first time I asked Gideon for a divorce was at a family gathering. Without warning, he threw a glass of water in my face and demanded coldly, "What are you trying to pull?"

The second time, I brought the divorce papers to his lab. He tore them to pieces on the spot and flung them in my face. "Would you quit bothering me?"

The third time, I waited outside his study for hours, blocking the doorway. He never came out. Instead, through the closed door, he told me to get lost.

This time, I learned my lesson. I went to his adopted sister, Chelsea, first. A faint smile curved her crimson lips as she called Gideon right in front of me.

Just one phone call. The agreement I had spent countless trips trying to get signed was finally signed.

Looking at Gideon's signature, all I could do was laugh at the irony.

Back then, the person who had approved my marriage to Gideon was not my in-laws. It was his adopted sister.

At the time, I only thought my sister-in-law was especially favored by the family.

But on the second day after our wedding, she handed me a checklist.

It detailed exactly what I was supposed to wear for different occasions, down to the style and color of my clothes and shoes.

It even included meal plans I was expected to follow while preparing breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the Clarke family every day.

The note at the bottom stunned me the most.

"All matters concerning the Clarke family, big or small, require Ms. Clarke's approval. Otherwise, they are not to be carried out."

I had barely opened my mouth to ask about it when she yanked the paper away and shot me a glare.

"Audrey, it's six o'clock. You need to start breakfast. Remember, Gideon's allergic to peanuts, he doesn't eat cilantro, and his soup has to cool to 104 degrees. Also, make me an Americano. Not too bitter, not too acidic…"

I spent the entire morning running myself ragged.

Later, when I brought it up to Gideon, he merely adjusted his glasses. His eyes never left the book in his hands.

"You only got to marry me because of your grandmother. I pay her medical bills, and you take care of my family. What's wrong with that arrangement?"

Every feeling I had buried in my heart, along with the crush I had carried for years, lodged in my throat all at once.

He was not entirely wrong. After my grandmother's car accident, he married me out of pity.

I had thought my years of secret feelings had finally been rewarded, and I had happily become Mrs. Clarke. But Gideon never touched me. In fact, he avoided me whenever he could.

I signed up for classes, bought sexy lingerie, burned my fingers red while making soup for him, and made a fool of myself trying to win his affection.

Then, one night, I saw the man who treated me with nothing but cold indifference tangled up with his adopted sister on the living room couch. His hand gripped hers as he guided it lower.

Their hushed moans and the wet sounds of their kisses split me in two like a blade.