Chapter 3

At eight in the morning, the front door of the villa opened.

Katherine walked in, her face etched with deep exhaustion. Undeniably, she was gorgeous, possessing a striking glamour.

Even after an all-nighter, her smudged makeup couldn't dull her piercing allure.

Beneath her black business suit, her long legs were clad in semi-sheer black stockings. The hem of her white silk blouse had worked itself loose from her waistband, the collar unbuttoned enough to reveal a generous expanse of her fair skin.

That cool, dangerous aura unique to a high-powered corporate executive, blended with a disheveled sense of decadence, was strong enough to make any man's throat tighten.

She kicked off her red-soled stilettos and stepped barefoot onto the hardwood floor, sweeping a cold glance across the living room with her bloodshot eyes.

Asher was sitting on the sofa. In front of him on the coffee table lay two sheets of paper.

After a pause, she started, "You didn't sleep all night? What, sitting here holding a vigil?"

She casually tossed her limited-edition designer handbag onto the entryway table and walked over, rubbing her temples.

"Lucas is fine. The doctor said it was just a scrape on the corner of his mouth. I have already apologized to him on your behalf. Honestly, how old are you, throwing hands like a teenager?"

"Apologized on my behalf?" Asher let out a mocking chuckle.

"What's so funny? Where's breakfast?" she asked matter-of-factly. "How come I don't smell anything cooking in the kitchen? I stayed up all night taking care of Lucas, and my stomach is killing me. Go get me a bowl of oatmeal."

In her mind, last night's drama was already water under the bridge.

"There's no breakfast," Asher said flatly, gesturing to the papers on the table. "Only this. Sign it."

Katherine froze, then strode over impatiently. The moment her eyes hit the title, fury shot straight to her head.

Her teeth clenched. "Divorce agreement?"

Without even bothering to read the contents, she snatched the two sheets of paper and tore them down the middle with a sharp rip. Rolling them into a ball, she hurled it straight into Asher's face.

"Are you out of your mind?" She thrust a finger at his nose, her voice shrill. "You pulled a stunt last night, and now you're throwing a tantrum this morning? Do you seriously have to keep acting like some bitter, resentful wife?

"Do you have any idea how exhausted I am? Fine, you don't care about me, but throwing this trash in my face first thing in the morning? How many times do I have to tell you? Lucas and I are just friends!"

The paper ball didn't hurt him, but the humiliation was acute.

Asher raised his head, his expression blank. "Exhausted? Yeah... I bet you are. I haven't called you out because I wanted to leave you the last shred of dignity you have."

Katherine bristled like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? Spell it out!"

A smirk played on Asher's lips. "You really want me to spell it out? Fine. You... are... a... cheating... wife!"

He dragged out every word with cold precision, making sure she heard each syllable loud and clear.

"Bullshit!" Katherine's composure snapped on the spot, and she swung her hand toward his face, putting every ounce of her strength into the slap.

Yet the sharp crack of impact never came. Asher moved like lightning, his hand clamping down with precision around her wrist.

Katherine froze, then thrashed wildly to break free. But his grip was like an iron vise, unyielding and unbreakable.

"You..."

Before she could spit out another word, Asher unleashed a backhand slap that landed squarely on her face.

Time seemed to stand still.

Cupping her rapidly swelling left cheek, Katherine was stunned. She couldn't believe that he had just hit her.

This man, who had been submissive to her every whim for five whole years and had never raised his voice to her once, just laid a hand on her.

A wave of fury and deep humiliation drowned her senses.

"Asher, you bastard! How dare you lay a finger on me?" she shrieked, flailing her free arm wildly to claw at his face. "Who supports you in this house? The food you eat, the clothes on your back, the roof over your head... All of them was bought with my money.

"You couldn't even afford rent in this city without me! A parasite like you... what right do you have to ask for a divorce? What right do you have to slap me?"

A parasite. So, that was how she truly viewed him.

"Yeah, I'm a parasite," he nodded with unnervingly calm. "So, I don't want a dime of your money. Consider everything I did for you over these five years as a bone thrown to a dog.”

Katherine couldn't believe her ears. "Who are you calling a dog?"

This quiet, meek man had never dared talk back to her like this.

"Don't regret this!" She took a deep breath and pointed aggressively at the front door. "You want a divorce? Fine! Walk out that door right now, and don't ever come crawling back. I'll give you what you want."

She was dead certain he wouldn't leave. After all, he had nothing to his name, and in this city, every square foot cost a fortune.

There was no way he could survive on his own.

Asher simply stood up. Without grabbing a suitcase, he merely picked up a faded, worn-out backpack from the corner of the sofa and slung it over his shoulder.

Inside were his passport, college diploma, and a few changes of clothes.

"I'll email you a digital copy of the agreement," he said, adjusting the strap.

Without another glance at her, he headed straight for the front door. "A digital signature will work just as well. I'll see you at the County Clerk's Office at nine on Monday morning. If you don't show up, I'll file for divorce in court."

He opened the door. The morning sunlight was a little harsh, yet its warmth against his skin filled him with a long-forgotten sense of relief.

Katherine stood in the middle of the living room, watching Asher walk away without hesitation. A sudden, unexplainable pang of panic struck her chest.

But almost instantly, that flash of anxiety was swallowed by humiliated rage.

"Fine! You think you're so tough?" She screeched after him. "Walk out that door, and don't ever come back! Let's see how many days you last without me!"

Asher didn't pause for a second. The heavy door clicked shut behind him.

...

After leaving the gated community, Asher stood by the curb, pulled out his phone, and dialed a number.

It belonged to Harper Winthrop, his best friend from college and now one of the most renowned attorneys in the city.

Over the past five years, in his effort to be the perfect husband, he had virtually cut himself off from everyone. Harper was the only friend whose contact information he had kept.

"Hello? Wow!" Harper sounded surprised over the line, laced with playful banter. "Look who's finally back from the dead! What's this, no love breakfast for your queen this morning?"

Asher felt a lump in his throat. Staring at the bustling traffic along the avenue, he took a deep breath. "Harper, I need a favor."

"Name it," Harper replied, dropping her playful tone immediately upon picking up the unusual strain in his voice.

"Help me draft a formal divorce complaint," Asher said, shutting his eyes.

The image of Katherine arrogantly tearing up the agreement flashed through his mind, followed by the memory of Lucas's smug, manipulative provocation.

He continued solemnly, "I drafted a divorce agreement and showed her. But Katherine may not let me go that easily. So, even if I have to take her to court, even if it means tearing everything apart, I'm getting that divorce."

Silence fell over the line.

"Are you sure about this?" Harper finally asked. "Katherine is worth a fortune. Going up against her in court won't be easy."

"I'm sure." He opened his eyes, his gaze cold and resolute. "I don't owe her anything anymore. Starting today, I'm going to live for myself."

Hanging up, he hailed a taxi.

"Where to, sir?" the driver asked warmly.

"West Side, the old neighborhood." Asher leaned back against the headrest, staring numbly out the window as the city sped past.

He was drained to the bone in both body and soul. Now he needed to find a place to crash, sleep well, and sleep off all the misery of the past five years.