1 Lillian Vance, the rising starlet, had been dominating the entertainment headlines for days. Just yesterday, news of her intimate antics with a co-star on set had gone viral. Today, however, a new spectacle unfolded: the city's most coveted advertising space, the colossal screen atop the tallest downtown skyscraper, ceaselessly scrolled a declaration of love for her. A gigantic poster of Lillian graced the left side, while the right blared, "Lillian Vance, I Love You." The priciest ad space, purchased for the simplest, most direct declaration of affection. That evening, Liam Harrison, a rare presence at home, dropped a bombshell. "Lillian's upset with me, and she's proving particularly difficult to pacify this time," he said, his voice as flat as if he were commenting on the weather. "Clara, what if we just... got a divorce for now?" I paused, the banquet guest list I'd been drafting slipping from my grasp, and looked up at him, my eyes clouded with confusion. "Don't worry, it's just a formality," he promised, his tone suddenly earnest. "We'll remarry after things calm down. You'll always be Mrs. Harrison." I considered his words for a moment. "Alright," I replied. Neither of us knew then that this 'formality' would be the first step in a diverging path, leading us further and further apart, a path from which we would never return to each other, never to remarry. My easy agreement to the divorce stemmed from a peculiar trust. I believed Liam wasn't lying about remarrying. He saw our divorce as a mere trinket, a fleeting gift to appease his current mistress. It seemed Lillian Vance truly was different from his usual fleeting interests. Liam was a philanderer, but his infatuations typically flared and died with rapid succession. His companions rarely lasted beyond a month before he moved on to a new face. Yet, this time, the rising starlet, Lillian Vance, had held his attention for three months. Yesterday, her cozy news with a co-star went viral, and today Liam declared his devotion in such a public, extravagant display. He was actually jealous, a stark sign that his fascination with her hadn't waned at all; if anything, he was behaving like a giddy teenager in the throes of first love. As for Liam wanting a divorce to placate another woman, my heart remained utterly unruffled. It wasn't that we had never loved each other. But once that love had withered, Liam and I had, like so many high-society couples around us, settled into a façade of harmony. Our marriage had run the gamut: from initial blissful sweetness, through a gradual descent into monotony, followed by the inevitable arguments and histrionics, until finally, it had settled into this current state of profound silence and deathly calm. Ours wasn't a strategic alliance; it began as a genuine romance. Liam and I met in high school. He was two years my senior, a shining star, a campus idol. I was just one of countless younger students who admired him from afar. I threw myself into my studies, determined to get into the same university he attended. Knowing he was involved in student council and the debate club, I diligently followed in his footsteps. Driven by a singular, audacious determination, I steadily closed the distance between us. And then, finally, he noticed me. During the annual student council showcase, my traditional dance performance captivated the entire audience, earning a thunderous ovation. As I took my bow, I distinctly saw him in the front row, his gaze alight with admiration, and indeed, a flicker of genuine interest. After the showcase, Liam began to pursue me. I feigned a touch of coy reluctance for a short while, but soon, we were officially an item. As a boyfriend, he was exceptional. He possessed vast knowledge and a broad intellect, yet he was never arrogant about it. Conversations with him were a delight. Back then, we had an endless stream of topics, chatting late into the night until the dorm lights flickered off, hanging up the phone with reluctant sighs. Despite being born into immense wealth – a true silver-spoon heir – he was surprisingly considerate. Though he'd never cooked a meal in his life, he would personally prepare a special birthday dish for me on my birthday. I considered my own family quite well-off, but compared to his, we were mere new money, practically parvenus. 2 Liam's grandparents and great-grandparents had studied abroad years ago, returning to build their empire. Generations of his family elders were either titans of academia, industry moguls, or powerful corporate board members. My own family, on the other hand, hailed from humble rural roots. My father had left home in his youth to seek his fortune, catching the wave of the real estate boom to make his wealth. When he first proposed marriage, Liam had to put in a monumental effort, making countless promises before his parents finally gave their reluctant approval. Touched by his dedication, and determined to be worthy of him, I abandoned my chosen major during my graduate studies, switching directly to business. After graduation, I joined Liam's family enterprise, working alongside him, hand-in-hand. I wanted his family to see that I was capable, that I could genuinely contribute, that I wasn't just some decorative figure. Originally, his family had agreed he could spend a few years forging his own path after graduation. But to marry me, he promised to immediately shoulder the immense family responsibilities upon graduation. From then on, he worked tirelessly, day and night, without a moment's respite. It took two arduous years before he fully took over all the group's operations, finally finding his stride and becoming adept. On Valentine's Day, he asked if I wanted to leave the company. He knew I didn't enjoy business management, nor the cutthroat atmosphere of the corporate world. "You've worked too hard these past two years, Clara," he said, his gaze warm and tender as he looked at me. "Don't worry, I've got a handle on things now. I can manage on my own. Rest if you want to." So, I left the company. But there was no 'rest' to be had. Even without direct business involvement, as the Chairman's wife, the future matriarch of a prominent family, my plate was overflowing. To gain his family's approval, I lived every day with meticulous care, weighing every word, every action. I had to actively help manage the charity organization his mother founded, personally overseeing every regular event. I needed to cultivate strong relationships with the wives of the group's executives and partners. Invitations to other people's galas required my polite attendance. And at home, we frequently hosted smaller soirées to foster connections with other high-society ladies. The Harrison family was vast, and deeply invested in its legacy. Every holiday necessitated a grand family dinner, with countless direct and extended relatives attending. After our marriage, Mrs. Harrison entrusted me with the responsibility of organizing these lavish gatherings. I remember the first one, for the Thanksgiving after our wedding. To ensure everything was flawless and to make a good impression on my mother-in-law, I began fretting about it a full two weeks beforehand. The two days of the dinner itself, I barely slept, my nerves strung taut. Thankfully, the dinner concluded perfectly. But after managing all the post-event details, I collapsed in the elevator. The doctor attributed it to extreme nervous tension and prolonged lack of sleep. I even made Liam promise not to tell either set of parents. I yearned for perfection, refusing to allow a single flaw. And through my tireless efforts, Liam's parents, his sister, even his aunts, uncles, and other relatives slowly came to accept and embrace me. Yet, Liam cheated. 3 Perhaps I was too eager to prove myself, too desperate for his family's approval. After we married, I poured all my energy into 'management' – first my career, then my relationship with his family. The marriage itself, the bond between us, genuinely received little of my focus. I could feel it myself: our encounters grew increasingly rare. Sometimes, we'd see each other only once or twice a month. The first time I discovered his infidelity, it felt as though my entire world was collapsing. That day, he'd made a rare trip back to the family estate. Liam's parents had already retired after dinner, but I deliberately lingered over my meal, just to steal a few more moments with him. I was never sure if a phone call wouldn't suddenly summon him back to the office after dessert – it had happened more times than I could count. When he excused himself to the restroom, his phone vibrated on the table. He'd always told me I could answer his calls anytime. For years, I had. So, instinctively, I picked it up and pressed 'answer.' A young woman's soft, cooing voice purred from the other end: "When you come over tonight, darling, could you bring me a bag of roasted chestnuts? I'm craving them so badly." Perhaps unable to fully process what I'd just heard, my mind seemed to freeze. I couldn't even formulate a coherent thought, yet when I spoke, my voice was unnervingly calm: "Excuse me? Could you repeat that?" There was a moment of stunned silence on the other end, then the line went dead. It wasn't until Liam returned that the reality of what had just happened truly crashed over me. I looked at him, my eyes burning with unshed tears. When I finally spoke, my voice was a tremulous whisper, almost unrecognizable: "She... she said to bring her a bag of roasted chestnuts..." Liam rushed over, his arms wrapping around me in a frantic embrace. "I'm so sorry, Clara. I didn't mean it. I just... I had a moment of weakness. Can you ever forgive me?" I sobbed, demanding, "Why, Liam? How could you betray our marriage?" It had never once crossed my mind that Liam would ever be unfaithful. The betrayal shattered me; I was ill for a long time. Liam came home every day, staying by my side, personally preparing my meals, caring for me with a tender attentiveness. He apologized to me countless times, begging for my forgiveness. Unable to let go of all the years we'd shared, my heart softened, and I forgave him. But it wasn't long before he cheated again. This time, facing my desperate pleas and raw anguish, he merely watched with cold indifference. There was no longer any hint of guilt, no apologies offered. "Clara," he'd said, his voice flat, "this is just how our circle operates. You need to get used to it. No matter what I do outside, your position as Mrs. Harrison will never be threatened." During that period, I plummeted into an abyss of self-doubt and agonizing contradiction. I couldn't fathom it: how could people who supposedly loved each other betray one another? Was I not good enough? I became consumed by anxiety, suffering from severe insomnia, losing handfuls of hair, and looking utterly haggard. Recognizing my spiraling condition, I sought a therapist. My capacity for self-preservation had always been strong. With the doctor's guidance, I slowly began to untangle my thoughts, shedding the endless struggle and self-consumption. Through a nearly brutal method of emotional detoxification, I forcibly excised Liam from my heart. The day I could watch him walk into a restaurant hand-in-hand with another woman, my expression unmarred, I knew: I had successfully rescued myself. No, I had never considered divorce. Since my marriage to Liam, my family's business had soared. The Harrison family didn't directly collaborate with us; my family's business scale simply wasn't significant enough for Harrison Group to even notice. But with that connection, the shrewd operators in the business world were eager to curry favor. Plus, riding the wave of the real estate boom that erupted in those years, my family had indeed flourished. 4 My family's business was one reason I hadn't considered divorce. Another was that during the first two years of our marriage, while I was still at Harrison Group, I participated in and spearheaded a major project that earned Liam's father's commendation. He decided to grant me a small share of the group's stock. The annual dividends I received were a colossal sum, and that amount continued to climb each year. Just last year alone, my dividends, combined with the monthly allowance Liam gave me – a million dollars – and the occasional jewelry and cash gifts from Mrs. Harrison, totaled nearly two hundred million. It might sound a bit disingenuous, but at that point, I had everything within the Harrison family except love. A wealthy husband who rarely comes home – isn't that the dream life many women fantasize about online? What more could I possibly be discontent with? I rationalized to myself that life couldn't be perfectly complete; I shouldn't be so greedy, wanting to have my cake and eat it too. Over the past year, I had adapted and even grown accustomed to this existence. Liam and I maintained a façade of happiness. Privately, he led his life, and I led mine. Gradually, I even found a quiet contentment. Sometimes, when he unexpectedly appeared after a long absence, I felt a peculiar unease. Deep down, I'd silently wish he would leave soon, feeling his presence disrupted my peace. When Liam and his new favored companion hit the entertainment news, I felt nothing. This rising starlet, Lillian Vance, was indeed different for Liam. She had broken the record for how long a woman stayed by his side. Over three months, and Liam showed no signs of boredom; if anything, he doted on her even more intensely. He even grew jealous when she was seen with other men – a reaction he'd never exhibited before. And now, to appease her, he was divorcing me. Not only that, the divorce had to be publicly announced. No doubt, it was another grand gesture for the girl's benefit. Such elaborate, painstaking efforts – I couldn't help but tease him. "Are you actually serious about her?" Liam's expression turned serious. "You don't need to probe, Clara. I promised you, you will always be Mrs. Harrison." I scoffed inwardly. He'd promised to love me forever when we married, too. How much good had that done? Still, I suspected he wasn't bluffing about the remarriage. By now, I was far too deeply intertwined with the Harrison family. Through my painstaking efforts, Liam's parents had come to genuinely accept me as their daughter-in-law, truly embracing me as one of their own. Beyond corporate matters, they often bypassed Liam entirely, consulting directly with me on countless family affairs and social obligations. I could also sense Mrs. Harrison's increasing reliance on me. Her friends sometimes joked, "'Our Clara' has become your catchphrase, hasn't it? Alright, alright, we know you have a wonderful daughter-in-law!" That's why, with this divorce, Liam insisted we present a fait accompli to his parents. Only after the legal waiting period, after we had the divorce decree in hand, did we inform Liam's parents. When Liam personally delivered the news, his father nearly fainted with rage. It was the first time I'd seen Mr. Harrison Sr. explode in such a fury; he actually hurled his teacup at Liam, his usually steady hands trembling with indignation. "Preposterous!" he thundered, "To do something so utterly absurd! Do you treat marriage as a child's game?" Mrs. Harrison was equally incensed. "Is that little actress poisoning your mind? Liam, play your games, but know where to draw the line!" Liam clutched his bruised forehead, trying to explain calmly, "I told Clara, we'll remarry later." His father's voice boomed, "What 'later'? Before the news gets out, go remarry her now!" "Actually, it's too late," Liam mumbled, already turning to make his escape. "I've already released the divorce announcement to the media."
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