Chapter 1
I was punished to kneel naked in the study all night before my cold-hearted husband, Jeremy Corwin, finally agreed to withdraw the divorce petition.
That same night, I stumbled upon 520 love letters locked away in his safe.
Each one began with “To my dearest Aliana,” and every word was filled with passion and sincerity.
It was hard to believe they came from him.
After all, in the three years we’d been married, he’d filed for divorce eight times.
Each time, I had to swallow my pride and beg before he reluctantly agreed to back down.
People we knew laughed at me, calling me “the divorce expert” and saying I was his simp.
They weren’t entirely wrong-I only managed to stay by his side by utterly debasing myself with pleas.
But after reading those letters, I realized he’d fallen for me the very first day I started chasing him.
Yet across five years of pursuit and three of marriage, he remained unyieldingly cold and distant, just because he loved the way I tiptoed around him, desperately trying to please him.
What he enjoyed most was seeing me cry, begging him not to leave.
He basked in my love, yet treated my devotion as mere amusement.
The next day, Jeremy filed for divorce for the ninth time-this time because I spilled a drop of milk on his car seat.
I remembered the last time-it was because I accidentally posted a photo that had his back in it on Instagram.
The time before that, it was because I cooked a dish he didn’t like.
Looking at the man I’d loved for eight years, I suddenly felt like I didn’t know him at all.
This time, I didn’t want to play along anymore.
After submitting the divorce paperwork at the courthouse, Jeremy didn’t even glance at me. He got straight into his black Bentley and drove off.
In the past, I would’ve spent the mandatory cooling-off period doing everything I could to get him to change his mind.
But this time, I simply dusted myself off and walked away.
Suddenly, the harsh screech of brakes sounded behind me. Before I could react, I was knocked to the ground.
A sharp pain shot through my knee. My palms were scraped raw.
A few of Jeremy’s friends rushed out of the car. One of them exclaimed, “Crap, we hit Jeremy’s wife!”
288 ¡Vouchers
Someone quickly corrected him. “She is not Jeremy’s wife anymore. They’re getting divorced. And Jeremy hasn’t agreed to drop the application.”
I tried to get up, limping and struggling, when the rear window of the Bentley slowly rolled down.
Jeremy sat inside, his profile shrouded in shadow, his expression unreadable.
One of the men stepped forward to ask, “Jeremy, should we take Aliana to the hospital first, or head to the airport to pick up Kendra?”
After a moment’s silence, Jeremy replied coldly, “Go to the airport.”
It felt like a knife twisted in my chest. My whole body trembled from the pain.
I watched the Bentley disappear into the distance, then gritted my teeth and dragged myself home, limping all the
way.
I couldn’t tell which hurt more-my body or my heart.
The next morning, I saw Jeremy again. He brought Kendra Haskin into our home, holding her hand.
Kendra, his childhood friend, had always lingered like a shadow in our lives.
And he never once stopped her from crossing the line.
I’d doubted his feelings for her before.
But after reading those letters, I finally understood-Kendra was just a tool he used to make me jealous.
He loved watching me burn with insecurity over him.
Seeing how pale I looked, he smiled faintly and said, “Kendra just got back from overseas. She doesn’t have a place to stay, so she’ll be living here for a while.”
He stared straight at me, standing protectively in front of her, as if afraid I’d lash out and hurt her.
But I stayed calm and said, “Do whatever you want.”
After all, in five days, once the divorce was finalized, this would no longer be my home.
Whoever lived here had nothing to do with me.
