Married for three years, Asher Sterling had never touched me. I put on a lace nightgown, faked hickeys on my neck, and took a photo of myself pretending to sleep from a third-person perspective. "Bro, she smells amazing. Hurry up and divorce her, give her to me, okay?" I guessed that receiving this anonymous message would make Asher disgusted and furious, finally discarding me—his substitute for my sister—like trash. I thought this time, I could finally divorce him. Chapter 1 My sister was vacationing in Europe, celebrating her third wedding anniversary. She asked what gift I wanted. I asked for an unregistered overseas SIM card. Clutching the SIM card, standing in the empty hotel room, I let out a weary sigh. Then, I put on the sheer lace nightgown I bought specifically for this plan. Looking in the mirror, I created ambiguous hickeys on my collarbone and neck using makeup. The marks were scattered, looking as if a man consumed by desire had aggressively and possessively claimed me. One of the straps of the nightgown was "torn" by the "man." Finally, looking in the mirror, I smudged my lipstick until it was messy. Then I sat on the bed and messed up the other side to make it look like someone had slept there. I closed my eyes heavily. Camera on timer, third-person perspective. Three, two, one. The woman in the photo looked like she had just been through a passionate session, sleeping defenselessly. I stared at it for a long time. My mind involuntarily recalled Asher Sterling’s notorious reputation in the business world. A smiling tiger. A capitalist who eats people without spitting out the bones. But what I was most familiar with was his face—always cold and heartless. Although beautiful, all his affection was given only to my sister. I prepared for the worst. Even if Asher had no feelings for me, a man would find it hard to tolerate a woman's betrayal. He would likely seek revenge. But ultimately, he would discard me in disgust and anger, divorcing me. As long as we could divorce. I just wanted a divorce. I closed my eyes and pressed send. On the phone screen, the text was casual and provocative— "Bro, she smells amazing. Hurry up and divorce her, give her to me, okay?" Attached was that photo. Sent successfully. Chapter 2 Less than two seconds later. I received a reply. Asher: "Who are you?" I changed my clothes slowly. Almost sadistically, I prolonged the reply time. Was he exploding with rage? Did he want to skin the anonymous sender alive? The favored son of heaven, flawless since childhood, was now having his emotions controlled by someone else—someone he had always held in the palm of his hand. Three years of dullness and pain found a sliver of pleasure today. I changed into my regular clothes. In the interval, Asher sent two more messages. "Don't use this clumsy AI face swap. State your purpose." "I advise you to come clean. I might leave your corpse intact." I chuckled. "Mr. Sterling, is it AI face swap? Ask your wife, won't you know?" "The hickeys on my baby's neck won't fade that fast (^v^)." I dared to say this because I knew Asher was abroad negotiating a very important deal. He wouldn't be back for at least half a month. The next instant, my own phone suddenly rang. I jumped. The ringtone blared wildly. It was Asher calling. I pursed my lips, staring at the phone until the call disconnected. But soon, the screen lit up again. Asher was calling relentlessly. I understood. This time, he was truly pissed off. My heart pounded wildly. I felt like I was walking a tightrope, playing a deadly game. I sent: "Mr. Sterling, stop calling. We did it five times; your wife is exhausted and asleep." The calls finally stopped. My phone fell into dead silence. Using that anonymous SIM card, I sent: "I didn't mean to break you up, Mr. Sterling. Your wife and I truly love each other. Be the bigger man, divorce her early, and let me have her. Otherwise, if word gets out you're wearing a green hat, you'll lose face." Asher didn't reply again. Unsettled, I threw the torn lace nightgown into the trash, checked out, and returned to the villa. The maids were cleaning. Everything was incredibly normal, peaceful as if nothing had happened. Washed up, went to sleep. In the early morning, when the sky was brightening, I groggily heard the roar of an engine and the screech of tires outside the window. Before I could react and open my eyes in panic, there was a knock on the bedroom door. "Hazel, open the door." That voice was deep and cold, the tone forced into steadiness, revealing only a hint of restless anxiety. I was fully awake, like a bucket of cold water had been poured over me, freezing me to the bone. It was Asher. Chapter 3 I was in total disarray. How could he be back? To him, I was just an insignificant substitute tool. The knock sounded again. Still three times, extreme restraint. He spoke slightly faster: "Hazel, I want to see you." I sat up. I couldn't panic. I couldn't give myself away. I took a deep breath, feigning sleepiness but forcing calm: "Mr. Sterling, I... need to use the bathroom and shower. Please wait a moment." I ran into the bathroom, turned on the showerhead, and stared dead at the marks on my neck. These were pinched by me using a bottle mouth yesterday. For realism, I was ruthless. Forget fading; foundation probably wouldn't even cover them! But I had to cover them. Because the first reaction of a cheater would definitely be to lie and cover up. Asher was sharp. I had to commit to the act. I wet my hair to fake post-shower wetness, then changed into a high-necked black dress, covering even my arms tightly. The half-hickey peeking out from the collar, I carefully covered with a band-aid. Looking in the mirror, I practiced a guilty yet feigning-calm expression. Disgusting enough, right? Asher would surely propose divorce in disgust without hesitation and tell me to get out. I opened the door. Asher sat on the sofa, brows furrowed, eyes closed in rest. His face was a bit pale, with a faint stubble on his chin. He forgot his watch; his cufflinks were missing too. One hand gripped his phone tightly; the other hung over the armrest, four deep wounds on the knuckles. As if he had punched something hard, more than once. But he didn't care, not even applying a band-aid. "Mr. Sterling, why are you back?" Asher opened his eyes to look at me, pupils dark and heavy. He pushed himself up from the sofa. The man who was anxious just moments ago now walked towards me incredibly slowly. I subconsciously took a step back but was grabbed by the arm and pulled back. He lowered his eyes to look at my neck, pupils constricting bit by bit. I forced a smile. "Is something wrong?" He didn't answer. He just used his cold fingers, two fingers together, slowly hovering over the band-aid. It seemed like the next second he would tear it off violently, tearing away all my lies, and then furiously, humiliated, tear up our fake marriage certificate. My body started to tremble. I closed my eyes, waiting to be exposed. But his index and middle fingers just lightly rested on the band-aid. Asher asked calmly, "How did you get this?" I deliberately dodged his gaze. "Just... accidentally got scratched by a book page yesterday." "Book page..." Asher blinked very slowly. "What did you do last night?" His fingertips probed into my collar. Just a forceful pull, and he could see the hickeys hidden deep under the fabric. I swallowed. "Went out for a hair treatment last night." Asher's breathing became heavy. He looked at me expressionlessly. For a moment, I had the illusion he would devour me alive. His fingers pulled at the collar. I stumbled along the force, almost falling into his arms. I quickly extended my arms to block his chest. His palm wrapped around my lower back, like an iron hoop, tightening bit by bit. That suppressed anger seemed to be vented bit by bit in this way. My strength couldn't match his; my resisting arms started to weaken. Asher approached me inch by inch. "Mr. Sterling, don't." I said tremblingly. Although I didn't know what he wanted to do, intuition told me it would be dangerous. My mind went blank, voice shaking, begging incoherently. Three or four seconds passed. He actually slowly retracted his fingers, clenching them into a fist. His face turned livid, corners of his mouth tight. Only then did I realize what I had just said—"I'm scared, don't touch me, please." "I will assign two bodyguards to you. They will follow you when you go out to ensure your safety," Asher announced flatly. Then he turned and left without hesitation. It wasn't until the familiar engine sound came from outside that I woke up from the dream— He wasn't pursuing it? How was that possible?! Chapter 4 I was monitored very strictly, with almost no chance to take out that phone to contact anyone. Asher, far away abroad, somehow wrapped up his business trip in just five days this time and rushed back. After he returned, the surveillance on me relaxed a lot. I finally had the chance to pick up the phone again. I sent a message using that anonymous SIM card. "Bro, you're a sore loser. Even if she cheated, just divorce her, right? Why lock your wife up?" Asher replied very quickly: "She didn't cheat. I trust her. Hazel isn't someone who would do these things." I stared blankly at this text. What did he mean? Although I indeed resorted to this because I couldn't bring myself to actually cheat with a man, how did Asher know what kind of person I was so well? He was clearly... clearly so indifferent to me. I risked everything, ignoring anything else, adding fuel to the fire: "Mr. Sterling, you won't know your wife better than I do." "She has three moles. On her ribs, next to her navel, and... Every time I connect them with my finger and slide down, she shivers uncontrollably." "But you are her husband. Married for three years, you should have known this long ago, right?" The last sentence was full of sarcasm because in these three years, Asher had never touched me. Crash! Just after I sent it, a loud smashing sound came from upstairs. It came from Asher's study. I shivered, hurriedly hiding the spare phone. The smashing sound rang out a few more times. Then, I heard Asher going downstairs. He instructed the housekeeper wearily: "Find someone to clean up. The computer needs replacing." Footsteps approached. I trembled in fear, hallucinating that the next thing he would tear apart was me. I shrank into the quilt like an escape, pretending to sleep. My door lock had been broken inexplicably since he came back. Asher gently turned the handle. Seeing the darkness in the bedroom, he didn't speak. In the dead silence, his violent panting and unsettled, chaotic heartbeat were obvious to the extreme. It even made me suspect if Asher could hear my racing heart too. He got closer. Closer. I squeezed my eyes shut. Asher didn't shake me awake, didn't strangle me in a thunderous rage demanding an explanation. He stood by my bed. Even though I didn't open my eyes, I could still feel a sharp, scorching gaze deeply nailed to my lower abdomen, seeming to hesitate whether to confirm. Don't shake. Keep breathing steady. Act! I remained motionless. Suddenly, I felt the mattress beside me dip. Asher slowly lay down beside me. That cold yet scalding gaze still congealed on me. I gritted my teeth. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I'll light another fire for him! As if falling into a sweet dream, I groggily turned over and arched my head into his embrace. Asher paused. That fierce gaze suddenly softened. "Hubby..." I murmured. Asher stiffened for a second. I relentlessly wrapped my arms around him, using the sweetest voice of my life, "Hubby, hold me." I thought he would be angry, maybe even slap me awake. Because I had never called him hubby. He knew I was calling someone else. But— He glared at me, gripping my arm hard, trembling with rage. But the next instant, hearing my muffled groan, he forced himself to relax his grip. Asher cupped the back of my head, making me hug him tighter. He kissed my hair. Then he stroked my back from top to bottom with his palm, a clumsy yet gentle gesture to soothe me to sleep. He whispered: "Mn. Hubby holds." I froze. This eerie calm... he was absolutely insane. Asher was brilliantly smart. He should have realized I cheated the moment he received the first text. To avoid a scandal, he should have drafted a divorce agreement ASAP and forced me out with nothing. But he denied it again and again. Biasedly, crazily, stubbornly denied that I slept with someone else. He even snatched the endearments meant for someone else, like self-hypnosis. What on earth was he doing? Thinking I had stopped murmuring and fallen into a deeper sleep... He silently lifted the quilt. His finger pressed against my ribs, then slid gently down in the direction of that mole. A light touch. Fingertips cool. Extremely fast. So fast I didn't react before I suddenly curled up, shaking uncontrollably. I made up that text! Even I didn't know that having my moles touched by someone would feel like an electric shock! I trembled wretchedly, unable to keep up the act, immediately wanting to turn and dodge. Asher stopped stroking. He wrapped his arms around me completely, forcing me to press against him face to face. Tight, firm, like a lover's lock. Pressing against my chest, I could feel the heartbeat under his ribs. Chaotic, crazy, powerful. He whispered softly: "You are mine. I am yours." He was truly mad. Abandoning all rational and calm logic and weighing of pros and cons, he had become a beast. Savage, direct, possessing without compromise. As if dragging me into his lair meant I could only belong to him. Asher objectified me, and objectified himself. We weren't humans with fragile skin and sensitive souls, but two lifeless iron locks. Click. Locked together. Stubbornly believing I was his, and he was mine. He was truly insane. I opened my eyes in the dark. Between the burning chest and arms, I stared complexly at Asher's sleeping face. Until my eyelids grew heavy, and I fell asleep. In the dream, the me from three years ago cried and begged Asher to let me go. He looked at me coldly. Until I shouted: "I don't owe you anything! You have no reason to lock me up!" Only then did he step back. After a full minute of silence, he looked up. "You owe me. Your sister ran away and ruined the engagement, so you have to pay me back with your whole life. I won't let you go." I collapsed on the ground then, touching the face similar to my sister's, finally understanding. He wouldn't let me go even in death because he treated me as my sister's substitute. Three years passed like this, bitter and unbearable. When I opened my eyes, Asher had already left. The bed beside me was smooth and clean, as if no one had been there.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "389444", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel