Chapter 4

"Who gave you permission to go through my stuff?"

Hallie snatched the notebook away, real anger flashing across her face for the very first time.

I pushed the evaluation form straight in front of her. "So marrying me wasn't about love."

"Marriage requires a rational choice."

"Miles got a perfect score. Why didn't you choose him?"

Her fingers paused for a fraction of a second. "He wasn't suitable for the Shaws."

And just like that, I understood.

Miles came from an average background. His father was deep in debt, and he had nothing to offer the Shaws. Meanwhile, the connections my father left behind, alongside my fifteen percent stake in the company, were just enough to bridge that missing gap.

"And what about me? Just 'suitable'?"

Hallie stayed silent for a second, drawing the conclusion for me. "What else?"

The sharp cramp in my stomach grew worse. I gripped the edge of the desk, barely holding myself upright.

"Pursuing me for three years, waiting for me outside the Translation Institute, staying by my dad's side through his final treatments, was all of that just an evaluation, too?"

"Getting to know a prospective partner is a necessary part of the process."

"What about when you told me I didn't need to be perfect?"

"That was to lower your guard."

"And on our wedding day, when you said I was the only choice you'd ever make for the rest of your life?"

She frowned slightly. "Scott, people say what's appropriate for specific occasions. Why insist on dissecting every single word?"

I nodded. It turned out every word I had treasured was nothing more than her standard script to clear a process.

My phone rang. It was Miles, sobbing hysterically on the line. "Hallie, people online are saying I stole the manuscript! The publisher wants to cancel the launch. Can you please come over?"

Hallie grabbed her coat.

I stepped up to block the door. "I was the one who contacted the publisher."

"Drop the dispute."

"No way."

"Miles already promised to keep your father's signature. What more do you want?"

"He ruined the manuscript and deleted the inscription my father wrote for me!"

"That single line doesn't change the actual content."

She brushed past me, but I reached out, catching her sleeve. "Hallie, what if I need you right now?"

"Stop trying to compete for my attention like this."

"I'm not competing." The agony radiated through my abdomen, making my voice tremble violently. "I'm only asking you once. Can you stay today?"

She glanced down at my pale face, her eyes pausing for a brief second. Then, Miles' frantic voice came through the speaker again. "Hallie, the reporters are all waiting outside. I'm really scared..."

Hallie pulled my hand off her sleeve. "Miles' launch affects the company's reputation. Go to the room and rest. I'll come back as soon as I handle this."

Before the door slammed shut, she left me with one final line. "Have that authorization signed by the time I get back. Your performance today: sixty points."

Listening to the sound of her car fading into the distance, I slowly collapsed onto the floor.

A metallic taste filled my throat, and blood spilled through my fingers, dripping onto the floorboards.

I pulled out my phone and dialed 911.

On the way to the hospital, the nurse asked where my family was.

I looked at Hallie’s contact info, but didn't dial it. "I don't have any family."

When I woke up, two-thirds of my stomach had been removed.

The doctor handed me a small box containing my blood-stained medical report and a blurry printout of the tumor biopsy. "The lesion was quite severe. Didn't your wife know?"

I shook my head.

I packed the box into my bag and completed the discharge paperwork on my own. As I walked out, the publishing house sent me a video link to the press conference.

Hallie stood firmly in front of Miles, promising reporters that the company would take full responsibility for any disputes.

Then a reporter asked her who was more important—her husband or Miles.

She answered calmly, "Scott is my husband, so he should consider the bigger picture. Miles is the project lead. I can't let him suffer any unfair treatment."

Below the video, a message from Miles popped up.

[Want to guess if she's coming back to spend time with you today?]

[Scott, husband is just a title. I am the exception.]

I didn't bother replying.

When I got home, I signed two documents.

The first was the revocation of my voting rights proxy. The second was a divorce agreement.

I placed the wedding ring, the biopsy photo, and the black evaluation notebook into the box, then rested the silver fountain pen on top.

On the back of the premarital assessment form, I wrote a single line: [The half of my life I lost no longer needs your score.]

At 3 a.m., I dragged my suitcase out the door.

A text from Hallie flashed on my screen.

[The launch is over.]

[The authorization form is in the study. I want to see your signature first thing tomorrow morning.]

She still thought I would be waiting at home, just like before.

I didn't block her number, only sending back a two-word reply.

[It's signed.]

With that, I turned off my phone and handed my boarding pass to Alderney to the gate agent.

At that exact moment, a legally binding document bearing my personal signature, revoking all proxy voting rights, was being delivered directly by my lawyer to the company's board of directors.