3

Surprised.

That was the expression I just saw on Paul’s face. The light in his eyes suddenly turns into a horror he can’t hide.

After this, I don’t know where the thread of time is going to take me anymore. Because this situation has never happened before. Still, I remind myself that this is my momentum—not his.

“Sweetheart, are you joking? April Fool’s Day is still a long way off.” Paul looks confused. “I think a joke like this is too dark.”

Paul can still smile at me, the same fake smile he always uses to manipulate people. And why am I only realizing that now? I stare at him steadily and calmly.

“I’m not joking,” I reply coldly.

Paul stands up and walks closer. He wraps his arms around me from behind.

“Kate, listen. We’re fine, for God’s sake. We don’t have any problems at all.”

Oh, please! Don’t bring God into this, you douchebag!

But that curse stays inside my head.

“Are you upset because I have to go out of town for a meeting?” Paul asks.

I shake my head. “No.”

“Then why? This is our happy day, and yes... I know this disappoints you, but I need to attend this meeting. Because this is for our future, Kate.”

“Yes, yes, I understand very well.”

“I’ll just cancel this trip. I’m more worried about you.”

“No need. I’m busy at the lab today, too,” I say quickly.

Paul lets out a relieved breath. “We have a bright future, you and me. I know I have an incredibly beautiful and intelligent wife like you.”

I force a smile.

“Listen, Kate, I love you more than anything in this world.”

Is that really true? Or does that lie simply roll off Paul’s lips so smoothly?

Lips that may already have explored every inch of Monica’s body. The nerve of Paul, still rambling about love while he is already preparing a coffin for me.

“I don’t want to hear the word divorce come out of your mouth again. It’s taboo. Okay, sweetheart?” Paul rests his chin on my shoulder, tightening his embrace. “Don’t ever ask me for a divorce.”

And that is when the realization hits me.

Paul doesn’t refuse divorce right now because of love. He needs me to remain an “obedient wife” because the drug formula I am developing has not yet been patented under his name. He needs me until every asset is under Goldman Therapeutics' control.

I know I have to break free from Paul. My actions right now, asking for a divorce impulsively, are only going to lead me to another tragic ending. As if fate has already locked in my death if I don’t play this carefully.

Meanwhile, the universe is giving me a stage for perfect revenge now, isn’t it?

I simply nod quickly. “Sorry. You’re right. I have a lot on my mind.”

This time, Paul moves to my side. He cups my face with both of his hands, which feel cold. His eyes stare deeply into mine, searching for whatever remains of the naive Kaitlyn inside.

“Sweetheart, I don’t want the issue with that drug formula to become a burden for you,” Paul says gently.

“Okay.”

“Now I finally understand why you were talking about murder and divorce in your sleep earlier. You’re afraid of disappointing me, aren’t you? You’re afraid of failing with that research, so afraid that you start thinking that far ahead.”

I can’t even find the words anymore. Even the devil would probably laugh at Paul’s level of confidence. He thinks I’m losing my mind because of work pressure?

Go ahead, Paul. Keep making assumptions until you rot.

“Just take your time, sweetheart. What matters most to me is your physical and mental well-being,” Paul says.

Cheap pleasantries. I know he is anxious because my formula needs to be released to the market as soon as possible.

That drug is what is going to bring Goldman to the peak of success, where I become a dead wife nobody needs to remember. Ironically, I am going to die the exact moment that formula is completed.

I’m not going to let Paul gain that momentum from my sacrifice. Not this time. I’m going to take what is rightfully mine.

“I need to get ready and go now. My schedule is tight today,” Paul says as he stands up. “This afternoon, can you send me the presentation file for your drug, sweetheart? I need it to convince the investors.”

“Okay.”

Paul hugs me one more time, forces a kiss onto my lips, and devours them with fake desire. I feel like brushing my teeth with bleach right now. His breath smells like rotting betrayal.

The moment Paul left the dining room, panic and adrenaline hit me at once. I sink weakly into the dining chair, biting my nails.

The nausea hits me again. Without wasting any time, I run toward the kitchen sink.

I turn the faucet on full blast, then scrub my lips with the back of my hand until they sting. I grab the hand soap, lather it up, and wash my mouth over and over again. I want to erase every trace of Paul’s kiss—a kiss that feels like snake slime on my skin.

“Bastard,” I hiss as I stare at my reflection in the kitchen mirror.

I have 360 days. One year before that cursed wedding anniversary arrives again. And I have to change the storyline before then.

Otherwise?

I’m going to become ashes in that laboratory again.

“It’s dangerous if I ask for a divorce right now. Paul is going to suspect something. Our relationship looks perfectly fine in the public eye,” I mutter.

But if I don’t act soon, I’m still going to remain trapped in Paul’s grip.

This time I have to use a strategy. I need someone whose power is equal to—or even greater than—the Goldman family’s to protect me.

Someone bold enough to take over my research and willing to fund it right under Paul’s nose.

But who?