After hearing that, Evan Beckett didn't even lift his gaze. "Since you're free tomorrow, you should cook for me. I'm not used to the food Maria makes.""In that case, you should hire a housekeeper whose cooking you can get used to." Right after saying that, I pulled the divorce agreement out of my handbag and handed it to him. "I've already signed it. Now, it's just missing your signature."Evan didn't reach out. He just locked his eyes on me, studying me for a long while. Then, a low chuckle escaped his lips. "This is the 18th time, but this is your most convincing attempt yet." I knew exactly what he meant. Before this, every single time his affairs with starlets and socialites made the tabloids, I would lose my mind, throw a tantrum, and demand a divorce. He would then use my hysteria as a pretext to move out and stay at his office. Inevitably, fear would consume me, and I'd swallow my pride and beg for a reconciliation. We had repeated this vicious cycle a whopping 17 times
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