River was nearly shoved aside, his face darkening as a flush of anger crept up his neck.
"President Everly, how could you do something like this in front of Eulalie?" he demanded.
Claudette let out a low scoff.
"Oh? So the powerful can set fires, but the rest of us can’t even light a lamp?"
The air crackled with tension, the argument teetering on the edge of escalation.
I leaned in slightly, my voice low. "You should go first. I’ll be back soon."
Claudette cast one last sharp glare at Eulalie before turning on her heel, making her way leisurely back to the private room.
As soon as she disappeared from sight, Eulalie’s expression softened ever so slightly. Her voice, however, remained gentle only for the one in her arms.
"River, go back first. I need to talk to him."
He clearly wasn’t pleased but nodded nonetheless. "Alright, I’ll wait for you outside."
Silence settled over the hallway as his footsteps faded into the distance.
Only then did Eulalie finally speak, "If you’re trying to make me jealous, you don’t have to put on such an act."
I held her gaze, searching for the right words to describe the feeling in my chest. But none came.
Instead, my voice was calm and resolute.
"I won’t be involved in your company’s matters anymore."
She narrowed her eyes at me, studying my face before letting out a scoff.
"Oh? I was planning to have River take over your position anyway. You not showing up saves me the trouble of dealing with extra paperwork."
"You’re still the same as before, always trying to get my attention with these petty tactics. Honestly, I’m disappointed in you."
Arrogant. Conceited. Some things never changed. A quiet chuckle escaped me. "No need to trouble yourself over it. Since we ran into each other, you might as well sign the contract while you're at it."
For weeks, I had placed contract after contract in front of her, waiting for her signature.
Her company had been walking on thin ice, teetering on the edge of financial collapse. She needed partnerships desperately. Without them, the consequences would be irreversible.
I had handled everything for her, yet she never so much as glanced my way.
Just as expected, the moment she saw the word "contract," she scrawled her name across the page without hesitation.
Only then did her tone shift, growing softer as her gaze lingered on me.
"So this was about business. You could have just waited for me at home."
She paused as if expecting a reaction.
"I only brought River out tonight because of work. Don’t overthink it," she continued smoothly. "Tomorrow, I’ll take you to get our marriage certificate."
Taking back the document, I exhaled a silent sigh, masking the relief that settled in my chest. My voice remained indifferent.
"There’s no need. I don’t want to see you again."
She was just about to snap when her phone rang.
In an instant, her tone shifted into something softer, almost tender.
"Alright, alright, I’ll be right out." A brief pause. Then, with quiet concern, she added, "The wind is strong outside. Wait for me in the car."
She cast me one last glance before turning on her heel, the sharp clicks of her high heels fading as she strode away.
I lowered my gaze to the contract in my hands, a quiet chuckle escaping me.
This wasn’t a business contract.
It was the agreement to terminate our arranged marriage.
Back when we had set the wedding date, I had made her a promise, one she likely never even considered.
As long as she was my wife, I would have poured every ounce of my strength and resources into supporting her.
I had wanted her to understand that, despite how our marriage began, my feelings were real. I had been willing to give her everything.
We should have gotten our marriage certificate long ago.
But on the day we were supposed to, River fell ill, food poisoning, they said. She left without hesitation, running to take care of another man.
I waited outside the marriage registry the entire day. She never came.
Night fell and all I received was a single message:
[River is sick. I need to stay with him. We’ll get the certificate another time.]
I had been upset, but I didn’t blame her.
Now? I was just grateful.
