Chapter 2

Willow's POV

"Ella doesn't like spicy food, and she's on a diet now. Keep that in mind when you cook. Also, she loves grilled fish. Go to the supermarket and buy a fresh one for her."

Ella flashed a sweet yet smug smile.

"Thanks so much, Willow. Oh, Adrian, I also want some shrimp."

Adrian scolded her affectionately. "You're so picky."

Then, he turned to me and snapped, "What are you standing there for? Go buy the ingredients! Aren't you desperate for money for Matthew's surgery? As long as you're obedient and do as you're told, I'll transfer the money to you later."

He was certain that I'd swallow every humiliation for my father Matthew Jones' sake.

With his arm wrapped around Ella's waist, he turned and led her into the master bedroom.

A moment later, the sound of their flirtatious laughter drifted out from behind the door.

I stared at the door, suddenly struck by how absurd this whole situation was.

I thought to myself, "I don't need your money anymore, Adrian. I will never need it again."

I picked up the divorce papers he'd pushed back at me, my fingers subconsciously tracing the cold, printed words.

The sound of Adrian and Ella's conversation came from inside the bedroom, punctuated by occasional laughter.

"Adrian, what if it turns out to be a boy? I want a daughter."

"Then we'll keep trying. I'll make sure you get whatever you want."

A bitter smile tugged at my lips.

So that was what he meant by an "accident".

My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was a reply from Ivan Craig, the project director.

"I'm glad you're willing to join this confidential project, but the commitment is a minimum of five years. Will your husband agree to it?"

"It's fine. I'm planning to get divorced."

Ivan replied almost immediately, his message carrying a note of cautious sympathy.

He said he'd seen rumors about Adrian's affair in the news almost every day lately and had long felt that the two of us weren't right for each other.

I stared at the words of concern on my screen, my nose suddenly stinging.

In the past, I would've been the first to jump to Adrian's defense.

But now, everything had changed.

Back then, whenever even the slightest rumor about him surfaced, no matter how baseless it was, he'd immediately issue a public denial. He was terrified that I'd misunderstand.

Now, nearly nude photos of him and Ella were plastered all over the internet.

In the pictures, the wedding ring he never took off was nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps it had all started the first time he mentioned Ella to me, his voice filled with admiration and a trace of nostalgia.

"Have you heard of Ella Sutton? She's the one who just debuted through that talent competition. She looks so much like you when you were younger."

From that day on, it seemed like he'd found the perfect replacement for me and directed all the attention and affection he'd once reserved for me to her.

I turned off my phone screen and slipped it back into my pocket.

Then, I turned and walked into the kitchen, but only because it was my birthday. I thought I'd prepare one last farewell dinner, if only for myself.

The aroma of food gradually filled the cold house. I walked to the master bedroom and knocked.

"Dinner's ready."

There was no answer. Only a series of muffled gasps and moans came from inside.

Frowning, I pushed the door open.

A torn black lace lingerie set was strewn across the floor.

I let out a disbelieving laugh.

I'd bought it, hoping to bring a little excitement into our marriage, but no matter how much I begged, Adrian refused to let me wear it. He said that it was disgusting.

Yet now, even with Ella pregnant, he was more than happy to indulge in all sorts of intimate acts with her.

How ironic.

Suddenly, a dress reeking of bodily fluids and rose perfume came flying at me, landing squarely on my head.

"Good timing. Ella's dress got dirty. The fabric is delicate and expensive, so it has to be hand-washed. Make sure you wash it properly and hang it up to dry."

I pulled the dress off my head. The foul, musty stench of bodily fluids hit my nose, making my stomach churn.

I couldn't take it anymore and flung the filthy dress onto the floor.