On the day of our tenth wedding anniversary, my husband told me he was getting remarried.
His face was perfectly calm as he told me: "The truth is, I'm the CEO of Sanchez Group. I'm worth billions. I only married you to see what an ordinary life felt like. In a week, Sanchez is forming a marriage alliance with the Pruitts."
"But don't worry, my heart still belongs to you. This is only a fake divorce. Once I get the Pruitts' core technology, I'll remarry you. And I won't touch her the whole time I'm tied to her."
I gripped my phone so hard my knuckles ached, an explicit video playing on the screen without sound.
The two people in it were my husband and the Pruitt heiress.
I forced myself steady, looked at the sanctimonious mask of my husband's face, closed my eyes, and said, "Fine. I agree to the divorce."
Watching my husband walk away, thrilled to his core, I picked up my phone and replied to an email that had come a month ago.
【If you want me to come back to the Pruitts, fine. Prudence Pruitt's dowry has to be arranged by me. I want 25% of the Pruitt shares. Otherwise I won't honor that childhood betrothal with the Vances.】
——
The moment I sent it, the reply came almost instantly.
【Agreed. In a week she'll marry into Sanchez. You handle the timing however you like. Also, when do you want to marry into the Vance family?】
I stared at that message for a long time, unable to snap out of it.
It wasn't until Charles Sanchez walked over to me that I came back to myself. His face darkened, and he suddenly demanded, "Why are you making that face? Are you backing out?"
Before I could get a word out.
Charles spoke first, terrified I might change my mind. "Louise Mason, you're a woman who keeps her word above all. Whatever you agree to, you have to follow through!"
Looking at that anxious face of his, I felt a giant hand clamp down on my heart and wrench it apart, the pain leaving me unable to breathe.
Ten years ago I'd rebelled and fled the Pruitts, lived on my own for a year, and at nineteen I met Charles Sanchez.
We met because of a promise. I borrowed his umbrella and promised to return it in two hours, so he waited in the gazebo.
When I came back to the gazebo, Charles was checking his watch, astonished. "You really keep your word. Two hours, and not a second off."
From that meeting on, Charles grew interested in me, slowly learning what I liked, gradually folding himself into my life.
And now, Charles was the one asking to leave.
The man who once said he "wished he could tear up the marriage certificate and keep me trapped at his side for the rest of my life" had, in the end, changed his heart.
I pulled my thoughts back and said, my voice bitter, "Don't worry. Whatever I agree to, I'll do."
I had agreed to the divorce, but I never agreed to remarry Charles.
Hearing that, his brow smoothed. "Lulu, don't worry, it's only a formality with her. I don't actually love her."
"You'll always be my good wife, even if Sammy isn't with us now—"
"Shut up." I cut him off sharply. "You don't have the right to say his name!"
"Sammy's death was just an... accident. Why won't you let it go, why do you keep living in the past?" Charles explained, exasperated.
I turned my back on him, my voice raw. "Are you filing for the divorce or not? The county clerk's office closes in an hour!"
Charles said nothing more and hurried out to get the car.
Sitting in the car, I looked out the window. The half-open window rolled shut.
I glanced at Charles, confused. He kept his eyes on the road and said, "Prudence doesn't like the windows down, she worries a bug will get in. And don't mess up the things on the passenger seat. Prudence, she..."
Listening to him go on and on with his reminders, I didn't answer. I just quietly turned my head back to the window, my thoughts drifting far.
At nineteen I was there beside Charles while he built his company. Back then we lived in a two-hundred-square-foot basement, inseparable, unwilling to be apart for a single second.
Just after my twenty-second birthday, Charles couldn't wait to drag me to the courthouse at the crack of dawn to register the marriage. He even went around telling everyone that Charles Sanchez had finally married the girl he loved.
At twenty-four I gave him a son, nicknamed Sammy. He said, "This child came into our lives like a star, brilliant and shining."
But at twenty-nine, I lost Sammy forever, and the one to blame was the very woman in Charles's marriage alliance—Prudence Pruitt.
After I found out the truth, I appealed like a woman possessed, only to be turned down every single time.
Later the Pruitts told me it was Charles who had helped Prudence escape charges behind the scenes, and they promised that if I would only come back to the Pruitts, they'd help me get justice.
At first I didn't believe Charles had that kind of reach. Back when our funding fell through, we were buried in enormous debt, scraping by every day. He drove for Uber and picked up delivery gigs between fares.
And I wished I could split every hour in two, working five or six jobs a day, sleeping less than three hours a night.
Until today, when I received that filthy video and heard Charles's confession.
I saw the man beside my pillow for exactly what he was.
Ten years of marriage. Nothing more than this.
After the divorce papers were finalized, the corners of Charles's mouth lifted slightly, the way they did when he was in a very good mood.
"Lulu, don't worry, a month from now I'll divorce her and remarry you. My heart has always been with you."
As he finished, his phone rang. He saw the name on the screen, and tenderness instantly flooded his eyes, his voice softening without his even realizing it. "Prudence, missing me? Okay... I'm heading back right now, it's all taken care of..."
Charles brushed past me.
The words I hadn't finished paused for three seconds before I slowly let them out. "There won't be any remarriage. Because I'm marrying someone else."
