Chapter 1
Evelyn Sullivan was browsing through a department store for her third wedding anniversary gift when her phone vibrated.
A series of photos from Isabella Jackson flashed across the screen, each one stabbing into her heart like a knife.
In the pictures, Ethan Sullivan had his arm around Isabella’s waist, whispering into her ear. Another showed him leaning down to kiss her forehead, his gaze tender enough to melt.
“Recognize this place, sis? It’s your marital home.”
Evelyn’s fingers trembled uncontrollably. She knew this villa all too well—the one Ethan had never taken her back to after their wedding night.
“Ethan said this was originally meant for me,” Isabella sent another message. “If it weren’t for Grandma Sullivan meddling, you wouldn’t even have set foot here.”
The screen blurred. Only then did Evelyn realize her tears had fallen onto it.
“By the way, has Ethan been home much these past two months?” Isabella continued relentlessly. “He spends every day here with me.”
Evelyn bit her lip until she tasted blood.
Her reply shook as she typed: “Isabella, don’t push it.”
“Push it?” Isabella shot back instantly. “When Ethan called you a dead fish in bed, did you think you were pushing it?”
Evelyn slammed her phone shut, her vision darkening at the edges.
It was past midnight when she finally heard the biometric lock disengage.
Ethan walked in, his brows furrowing the moment he saw her sitting by the entrance.
“What are you doing here?”
Evelyn lifted her head slowly. Even after three years, his face still made her heart race—but his eyes remained as cold as ever.
“Isabella’s back?” Her voice was hoarse.
Ethan stiffened before replying indifferently, “Her affairs don’t concern you.”
“Don’t concern me?” Evelyn let out a hollow laugh. “She’s sleeping in our marital bed, and that doesn’t concern me?”
“Evelyn!” His expression darkened. “Watch your tone. Isabella is just staying there temporarily. She’s not that kind of person.”
“What kind? The kind who sends provocative photos to the wife?” She stood, meeting his gaze directly.
His eyes turned glacial. “You’re slandering her again.”
Those words shattered her last shred of hope. He didn’t even ask for the truth—just assumed she was lying.
“Let’s get divorced,” she whispered.
Ethan’s pupils constricted. “Have you lost your mind?”
“I mean it.” She wiped her tears. “I don’t want a cent of your money.”
“Enough!” he snapped. “We’ll talk when you’ve calmed down.”
As the door slammed behind him, Evelyn found it almost laughable. In his eyes, she didn’t even have the right to be angry.
The next morning, a lawyer delivered the divorce papers.
“Mrs. Sullivan, are you certain about waiving asset division?” The lawyer hesitated.
Evelyn shook her head and signed without hesitation. When she removed her wedding ring, she noticed the faint tan line on her finger.
Packing took less than an hour. The villa held pitifully few belongings that were truly hers.
A red Lamborghini pulled up right on time. Sophia Reynolds lowered her sunglasses. “You’re sure about this?”
Evelyn shoved her suitcase into the trunk. “Drive.”
In the rearview mirror, the villa that had housed her three-year marriage grew smaller and smaller, vanishing around the corner.
