During a game of Truth or Dare, someone asked my husband, Carter: "If you were given another chance, who would you choose? Harper or Serena?" Carter downed a glass of whiskey and said, his voice laced with a strange sense of loss, "We were too broke back then. Serena would have only suffered if she stayed with me." So, he chose me. But things were different now. He had money, power, and status. He had built a gilded cage to protect Serena perfectly. He would even drop to one knee just so she could rest her foot on his thigh. As for me, he simply didn't understand. "I've already given you the title of Mrs. Hayes. What more do you want?" One Today was my birthday. Carter asked me what my birthday wish was. I took off my earrings, tossed them aside, and blew out the candles with absolute apathy. But then, I clasped my hands together reverently and said with absolute sincerity: "I wish we could get this divorce finalized quickly." That single sentence stopped Carter dead in his tracks. The smile on his face, which hadn't been very bright to begin with, slowly vanished. After a long moment, he sighed and rubbed his temples in frustration. "Are you still mad?" "I rushed all the way back here for you, didn't I?" "Stop throwing the word 'divorce' around so casually. I might actually take you seriously one of these days." I just looked at him. The exhaustion on his face was obvious. He had just spent a week playing tourist in Scandinavia with Serena. He must be exhausted. Then, a nine-hour flight. Followed by a non-stop drive straight to our estate in The Heights, just to see me. He had his assistant order a custom cake in advance and had the housekeeper buy fresh groceries. The minute he walked through the door, he personally cooked an entire table of my favorite food. He was so busy rushing to get this done that he hadn't even changed his clothes. All just to celebrate my birthday. If he had done this any of the previous years, I would have been crying tears of joy, convinced I was the luckiest woman in the world. But this year was destined to be different. I felt absolutely no emotion. In fact, I was a little annoyed. I looked him dead in the eyes, my expression blank: "Divorce. Divorce. Divorce. Did you hear me clearly enough? If not, I can keep saying it. I am begging you to take me seriously." Carter's face turned to stone. He clenched his jaw so tightly I could see the muscles pulsing in his cheek. He violently kicked a dining chair, the wood scraping harshly against the floor. "Harper, that's enough." "How long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum? Is this fun for you?" He took several deep breaths, trying to force his temper down. "I didn't miss your birthday. I rushed back to accompany you. You've made your point. Drop it." "I'm going upstairs to take a shower. You need to calm down." With that, he turned and marched upstairs without looking back. I looked at the sickeningly sweet buttercream cake and the still-steaming food on the table, feeling genuinely baffled. Why did he think that rushing back to celebrate my birthday meant a damn thing to me? My friends had prepared fireworks, top-shelf liquor, and hot guys for me. I could have had a perfect, wild birthday with them. But it was completely ruined by Carter showing up uninvited. He had played the gentle, devoted gentleman, grabbing my hand firmly in front of everyone. He smiled politely at my friends and said, "Do you mind if I borrow Harper for the night?" And then he aggressively dragged me away. I didn't struggle. I didn't fight back. I even kept a smile on my face. Not because I was happy. But because I was so used to maintaining my dignity in public that I instinctively avoided making a scene. Two Carter was taking a shower on the second floor. I leaned back on the sofa and lit a cigarette. My phone rang just as I was lighting my second one. It was a call from Serena. It rang for a solid thirty seconds. I just sat there watching the screen, ignoring it. I crushed the cigarette butt into the ashtray and poured myself a glass of wine. The phone rang again. Still Serena. I hit accept and put it on speaker. Serena's spoiled, arrogant voice blasted through the speaker. "Where is Carter? Put him on." I didn't answer, taking a slow sip of my red wine instead. "Harper, say something. I know you're listening." "Put Carter on the phone. I need to talk to him." "Tsk. If his phone wasn't off, do you really think I'd be calling you? You're so annoying!" I could hear the barely suppressed rage in her voice. I offered a cold, detached smirk. "He's in the shower." "What do you want?" Serena went dead silent. A few seconds later, she finally spoke again, her voice dripping with venom. "You two really don't waste a single second, do you?" "Is screwing the only thing you two ever do?" "Disgusting!" Her outburst actually made me laugh out loud. "I'm sleeping with my legal husband. The cops couldn't arrest me if they tried. Why are you so pressed?" "Or what, did you expect him to save himself for you?" "What the hell are you talking about?!" Serena snapped defensively. "I wouldn't stoop so low as to sleep with him. Carter might be a prize to you, but to me, he's nothing." She sounded pretty confident saying that. But I was too lazy to argue with her. "Tell me what you want, or I'm hanging up." "The passcode!" Serena demanded urgently. "What's the passcode to the house? It's a long string of numbers, and it's so annoying to remember." Three The passcode. The passcode to every single property he owned, and the lock screen code to Carter's phone. It hadn't changed in all these years. I had asked Carter once what those six numbers meant. Carter had answered casually, "Nothing. Just random numbers." For a while, I actually believed him. Later, I was holding his phone and casually punched those numbers into the T9 keypad. The predictive text spelled out a word: Serena. I didn't say another word, hung up the phone, and tossed it onto the sofa. Just as I was pouring myself another glass of wine, Carter walked out in a bathrobe. He was towel-drying his hair as I handed him a document. "What's this?" "Divorce papers. Sign them." Carter glared at me coldly and tried to walk right past me toward the liquor cabinet. I swung my arm out and swept the entire table of food onto the floor. The loud, chaotic crash of shattering plates was deafening in the quiet, early-morning house. Carter lost his temper and stepped aggressively toward me. "What the hell do you want? Is this really just because I didn't get back in time for your party?" I let out a harsh, mocking laugh. "Who the hell do you think you are? Get over yourself." "These divorce papers... you can either sit down and sign them peacefully, or we can wage a scorched-earth war and you can sign them then." Carter's jaw was clenched tight. He angrily threw the towel onto the floor. "You're being completely unreasonable." He turned and started walking toward the stairs again. I spoke up. "Serena just called." "She said she couldn't reach you and didn't know the passcode to get into her house." Carter stopped dead in his tracks. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" "Did you give her the passcode?" "Why would I give it to her?" I said coldly. Carter's frown deepened into a scowl. He started rushing up the stairs to change his clothes. But I moved faster. With lightning speed, I charged up the stairs and kicked him square in the back. As he fell forward, I drove my knee into his spine and wrenched his arm behind him. Carter let out a muffled groan and yelled in pain and anger. "Harper, what the hell are you doing?!" I leaned down close to his ear and slapped the contract against the side of his face. "Sign the divorce papers." "Otherwise, you're not leaving this house." "And your precious little princess can freeze outside all night." This time, Carter was silent for a very long time. "Do you know what I hate most about you? It's that you always resort to violence." Four My relationship with Carter was complicated. During our poorest years, we lived in the same crappy apartment building—him upstairs, me downstairs—but we never spoke a single word to each other. My mom was beautiful. She had me when she was nineteen, and after that, there was a revolving door of men in her life. My grandmother, deeply regretting how my mom turned out, raised me like a tomboy. She even sent me to learn self-defense from the guy who lived downstairs. That guy was a boxing coach, built like a brick house, but he had a sickly, fragile son who he treated like a delicate porcelain doll. That was Carter and his dad. When we were kids, I would drag Carter around to play. I protected him, told him he was my sidekick, and said I'd always have his back. I had his back for ten years. Until my grandmother passed away, and his father died. We became two kids with absolutely no one to rely on. We should have clung to each other to survive the cold. But weirdly, without any specific reason, he started distancing himself from me. I wasn't an idiot. I felt the rejection. So I stopped trying to force my way into his life. He had good grades and he was good-looking, but his personality was cold and his body was weak. He didn't fit in with anyone. In high school, teenage boys are full of aggressive energy. Some guys started bullying him. I overheard a few guys from the basketball team talking: "That pretty boy is so annoying. We should just break one of his fingers." Carter's fingers. Those were the fingers he used to read, to write, to claw his way to a better life. I followed them after school and used the techniques Carter's dad had taught me to beat the living hell out of them. I got banged up too, but it didn't matter. I had thick skin. I could take it. As I was walking up the stairs to my apartment with my backpack, I saw Carter waiting in the shadows with a dark expression. He pulled me into his apartment, brought out a first-aid kit, and expertly cleaned and bandaged my wounds. That was the first time I had been inside his apartment since his dad died. Carter's dad had been stabbed to death while trying to stop a mugging. With his skills, he could have easily handled those guys, but one of them pulled a knife. The knife went into Carter's dad's stomach, was pulled out, and plunged in again. He didn't even survive long enough to see Carter one last time. The person he saved moved away overnight, disappearing completely. The guy who stabbed him went to prison, but didn't pay a single cent in restitution. Carter knelt in front of his grave, expressionless, saying his dad had it coming for playing the hero when he couldn't handle it. He said the thing he hated most in the world were people who only knew how to solve problems with their fists. And it was from that moment on that he refused to speak to me anymore. That day, he kept his head down, tending to the cuts on my hands. His voice was very soft and slow. He said: "Harper, don't ever fight anyone again. Especially not for me." Five It had been a long time since Carter looked this pathetic. He forcefully scrawled his signature on the last page of the document. He threw the divorce papers onto the floor. He threw his clothes on and stormed out of the house. I slept like a baby. I woke up naturally, then called a moving company to start packing my things. When Carter got back, the movers were carrying a massive oil painting out the front door. "What are you doing? Who told you to move that?" Carter jumped out of his car and jogged over, looking furious. The movers exchanged confused glances. I slowly walked out of the house. "I told them to. What's the problem?" Carter took a deep breath. "What are you pulling now?" "Isn't that my painting? Harper, I bought that. Why didn't you tell me? You are so annoying." Serena stepped out of the passenger side of the car. Even though she was saying 'annoying,' her eyes were sparkling as she looked at the painting. Carter froze, instinctively looking at me. I offered a faint smile. "Actually, I bought it." "I was blind back then. I spent almost twenty grand on this massive thing, and now, the more I look at it, the more it disgusts me." That was during the hardest period of Carter's startup phase. He was working himself to the bone, but he still made time to take me out. He took me to an art exhibition. I didn't know how to appreciate art. I couldn't tell what was good or bad. But I noticed he stopped in front of one specific oil painting for a very long time, looking reluctant to leave it when we walked away. So, I lived on a shoestring budget and used all the money I had saved over those years to buy that oil painting as a birthday gift for Carter. Over the years, we moved many times. The houses got bigger and bigger. And we always took that oil painting with us. I always thought he cherished it because it was a birthday gift from me. Until he rushed to Paris to bring Serena back. Serena posted a picture of a painting from a courtyard. The signature on the painting was exactly the same as the one on the oil painting. What does it feel like to have your entire world shattered by a single, heavy blow? It's hard to describe. I just know I crouched on the floor for a long time, my face deathly pale, biting my teeth together so hard I tasted blood. Six My words clearly triggered Serena. She angrily stepped forward, ready to confront me. "What is that supposed to mean?" Carter grabbed her arm, stopping her from reaching me. Serena stared at him in disbelief. "You're protecting her?" She shook off Carter's hand, her eyes red with anger, and turned to run back to the car. Carter didn't grab her again, but his voice softened. "Alright, go wait in the car. I'll take you to meet Director Ford in a minute." Serena puffed out her cheeks, looking furious. She glared at me. But ultimately, she obediently got into the car. Carter looked like he wanted to say something. I looked at him with a mocking smile. "Serena doesn't get it, but I do. You look like you're stopping her, but you're actually protecting her." "But you don't need to worry. I wouldn't touch her. Risking myself to hurt her isn't worth it." Carter's expression stiffened for a fraction of a second. But he was a master manipulator, and he quickly recovered his composure. "You need to stop imagining things." "Serena... I'm just helping her out because of our past." "You don't need to project those filthy, malicious thoughts onto her and me." Hypocrite! That was the only word I could think of. I let out a cold laugh. "Is it that you don't want to?" "No, it's that you don't deserve her!" Serena was a rich, spoiled heiress. When Carter and I were surviving on five dollars a day, she was wearing a twelve-thousand-dollar hairpin. A little princess like her... we shouldn't have ever even crossed paths. But that year, she transferred to our school and spent a year in our class. The arrogant, privileged little princess took one look at Carter and decided she wanted him. "Hey, can I sit next to you?" "No." "Can you tutor me in math?" "I don't have time." "Carter, I like you." "I don't like you." After being rejected over and over again, the little princess turned her embarrassment into anger. She started targeting Carter. Like pouring milk all over his homework. Like dumping a whole bowl of soup on his clothes. Like mocking him for not even being able to afford a new pair of shoes. Like framing him for stealing her fountain pen. Carter told me to stay out of it, saying he could handle it. But the reality was his grades kept dropping. I took it upon myself to find Serena. I warned her that if she touched Carter again, I wouldn't go easy on her. Carter was furious with me that time. He forced me to apologize to Serena, then carried me home on his back. He said to me: "We can't afford to mess with people like Serena. We just have to endure it. We endure it until we don't have to look at their faces anymore." I always thought Carter hated Serena. But people are complicated. There is no pure love, and there is no pure hate. It's always a tangled mess of both. Seven Carter ignored the busy movers in the mansion, grabbed the documents he needed, and turned to leave. He left me with one sentence: "Do whatever you want." Well, if he said I could do whatever I wanted, then I would. I threw away the oil painting, threw away our wedding photos, threw away the bed from the master bedroom, and even threw away Carter's entire closet full of clothes. Finally, a moving truck hauled away all my belongings, driving off in a grand procession. That night, I slept on a floor mat in my still-unpacking new apartment, staring at the ceiling until the sun came up before finally falling asleep. When I woke up, I was already lying in a properly made bed. I wasn't surprised. I didn't think I was sleepwalking, or that a burglar had broken in. The only person who could find me here was Carter. Sure enough, when I walked out of the bedroom, he was in the kitchen boiling pasta. Carter was quick at everything. Back in the day, when we were too poor to afford any pre-made food. Carter did everything himself. Cooking rice, stir-frying, making soup—he could always whip up something decent on the first try. I was the exact opposite. He never understood it. "Can't you just follow the recipe? Why do you have to get creative?" I didn't understand him either. "We're just missing green onions. Does it really matter? Why do you have to run all the way downstairs to buy them?" Those chaotic, messy days were full of the warmth of real life. But thinking about it now, it feels like it happened in another lifetime. "You're up? Brush your teeth, wash your face, and eat breakfast." I didn't move. "My name is on the lease for this place. Don't come here anymore." Carter's hand, stirring the pasta, stopped. He turned off the stove, shut off the range hood, and turned around. He asked me: "I can promise you right now that Serena's presence will never threaten our marriage. You will always be Mrs. Hayes. What exactly are you dissatisfied with?"
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "404830", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel