"Pay it back? You don't even have a job. How exactly do you plan to settle a debt like that?"
A faint, mocking curve touched Luke's lips, but his eyes remained glacial. He knew. He knew perfectly well that for the past three years, I hadn't worked a single day. No income. No savings. No way out.
I swallowed the bitter taste of humiliation rising in my throat, forcing my voice steady. "How I pay it back is my concern. You don't need to worry about it."
Before Luke could respond, Ella swiped the document from my hands. She scanned the pages, her manicured nails tapping against the paper, then burst into shrill laughter.
"My god, look at all these typos! Daniela, where on earth did you dig up this lawyer? Completely unprofessional."
I didn't have money for a lawyer.
The divorce agreement in her hands was something I'd typed out letter by letter on my phone, sitting in the doorway last night, copying a free template I found online.
"Daniela, are you done making a scene?" Luke's voice was low, laced with disgust. "Do you really think bringing up divorce will get my attention? Put away these pathetic tricks."
He looked at me like something stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
He didn't give me a chance to respond. With a scoff, he wrapped an arm around Ella's waist and led her toward the master bedroom.
A mirror image of our wedding night. Back then, I'd begged him, tears streaming down my face, asking him to stay. He hadn't even turned his head.
Once again, he shut me out.
But this time, I didn't follow. I didn't knock.
I turned around, walked into the guest room, and closed the door.
The next morning, I started hunting for a job.
I didn't bother with corporate offices. My employment gap and my connection to the Weiss family made that impossible. Instead, I applied for a cleaning position at a high-end hotel. The pay was decent, and more importantly, they didn't run background checks.
Here, no one knew who I was. No one would sneer at me. No one would call me a gold digger.
Or so I thought.
Two weeks in, the foreman handed me a bucket of supplies. "VIP Room 305 needs service. Now."
I kept my head down, clutching the mop handle, and pushed open the heavy mahogany doors.
The moment I stepped inside, my blood ran cold.
"Well, well. Isn't this Mrs. Weiss?" A man's jeering voice cut through the air. "Does the Weiss fortune not stretch far enough? Or do you just enjoy scrubbing floors?"
"The Weiss family has a century of wealth, but even that can't feed her insatiable greed," another chimed in. "If she'd married into an ordinary family, she would've bled them dry by now."
"Exactly. That's why a man needs a virtuous wife. Someone pure and kind, like Ella. She's the only one who deserves the title of Mrs. Weiss."
The private room was filled with Luke's wealthy, idle friends. They leaned back in plush leather chairs, expressions twisted in mockery.
And there, in the center seat, sat Luke.
He didn't look surprised to see me. He sat with terrifying calmness, eyes lowered as he idly played with Ella's fingers. As if my presence—my humiliation—meant absolutely nothing.
Ella soaked in their praise, a smug glint in her eyes.
"Daniela? I heard rumors you were working here, but I didn't believe it." Her voice dripped with faux concern. "Are you really that short on cash? You should've told me. I could've helped."
She made a show of reaching into her purse and pulling out the supplementary credit card Luke had given her—the black card that symbolized everything I was denied.
"Actually," she said, a playful smile curling her lips, "Luke always says people shouldn't get something for nothing. So let's play a game."
She grabbed a bottle of expensive wine and poured a glass.
"For every cup you drink, I'll give you ten thousand dollars. Fair, right?"
Ten thousand for one cup.
My mind raced. My debt—the bride price that had ruined my life—was $280,000.
Twenty-eight cups.
If I drank twenty-eight cups, I could pay Luke back. Every cent. Then I could leave. Finally be free.
I didn't hesitate. "Deal."
Luke's hand paused. For the first time, he lifted his gaze to look at me.
His eyes were dark, swirling with a storm of anger.
"You really have no bottom line when it comes to money, do you?" His voice was ice, sharp enough to cut. "So if I give you the benefits you want, you'll agree to anything?"
He sneered, reaching into his jacket pocket. He pulled out the crumpled divorce agreement I'd given him the night before and slammed it onto the table.
"You want a divorce? Fine."
He gestured to the men around the room—the very men who had just insulted me.
"Keep them company tonight. Sleep with them, and I'll sign."
The moment Luke's words landed, the room shifted. The men on the sofas stirred—restless, predatory.
Blood drained from my face. Nausea churned in my stomach. I opened my mouth to refuse, to scream—
Luke didn't give me the chance.
Without hesitation, he scrawled his signature across the divorce papers. Then he flung them at me. The sheets hit my chest and scattered onto the wine-stained carpet.
"Daniela Simmons." His voice was ice. "You want this divorce? Prove how badly."
He didn't wait for an answer. He pulled Ella against his side, hand possessive on her waist, and walked out.
He didn't look back. Not once.
The door clicked open. Behind me, the air thickened with malice. Their gazes crawled over my skin—sticky, invasive. A chill shot down my spine.
"Luke! Luke, don't go!"
Panic shattered my paralysis. I scrambled toward the corridor light, desperate to catch him—
A hand clamped onto my arm. Iron-tight. I was yanked backward, heels skidding.
Through the narrowing gap, I watched the light vanish.
Bang.
The door sealed shut. The last trace of hope died with the corridor light.
Despair crashed over me like a wave, drowning my screams before they left my throat. In that darkness, I had no room to resist.
The next morning.
Urgent knocking echoed through the Weiss mansion. Luke's assistant stood at the door, face pale, drenched in sweat.
Luke sat in the living room, black coffee in hand. Seeing his assistant's state, a sneer curled his lip.
"What? Did she call begging for help?" He took a slow sip. "I told you—bringing up divorce was just another game. Playing hard to get."
Before the assistant could answer, the morning news cut to a breaking report.
"Breaking News: Last night at approximately 10:15 PM, a tragedy occurred at the Cloudview Hotel. A woman, identified as Ms. Simmons, was found dead following a suspected assault..."
