After giving birth, my arms dealer husband decided I was "too loose."

Every time things got heated and he was on the brink, he would suddenly lose interest, complaining that he craved a tighter, fresher experience.

Desperate to salvage our marriage, I secretly underwent tightening surgery, planning to give him a surprise.

I specifically chose a dimly lit nightclub where faces were obscured by shadows.

After he finished meeting a client, I slipped in wearing seductive lingerie and silently guided his hand between my legs.

At first, my husband was aroused.

But a moment later, his face suddenly went cold.

"Jessica, didn't we agree to act like strangers here?"

"If anyone finds out, we are both in deep trouble."

Jessica?

A sugary female voice floated out from the speaker:

"Damien, why aren't you here yet?"

"You were so rough last time, you actually made me bleed... You promised to come with me for the repair surgery. Don't you dare back out now..."

Damien hastily placated her with soft words, grabbing his jacket to leave.

Suddenly, he paused and turned back to look at me.

"Where the hell did you come from?"

Just then, his trusted aide poked his head through the door.

"Boss, the girl sent as Mr. Quinn's 'apology' is here."

Damien seemed to connect the dots. He looked me up and down with a transactional gaze.

"Luther Black usually has no interest in women. If you were chosen for this, you must have some exceptional skills in bed."

"Serve him well, and you will be handsomely rewarded."

I looked at my husband of five years.

I offered no explanation.

I simply gave a silent nod.

......

Damien left without a second's hesitation, disappearing quickly through the door of the private suite.

From the corridor, I could hear the faint sound of his lowered voice—hushed, cajoling tones that were sickeningly sweet.

I turned my gaze to his aide, Leo. My voice was cold as ice.

"Who is Jessica?"

Leo finally recognized my voice. His face drained of color instantly.

"She... she was a gift from Mr. Vance to the Boss. The top hostess at their establishment. Later, the Boss brought her on as a... receptionist."

I let out a cold sneer.

Damien had certainly gone to great lengths. Hiding his little mistress in such an inconspicuous role just to keep me off the scent.

No wonder.

Damien, who used to be insatiable every night, had been claiming he was constantly tired these past few months. He complained I wasn't tight enough, that being with me was boring.

It wasn't that I was withering away or losing my allure.

It was simply that his heart already belonged to someone else.

I glanced at the girl standing at the door, trembling and too terrified to enter. I wrote a check for five hundred thousand and handed it to her.

"Here is your payment. Get lost."

Leo looked panic-stricken.

"Mrs. Cross, this... Mr. Quinn will be here any minute. If she leaves, how am I supposed to explain..."

I raised my head, my eyes dark.

"Didn't my husband explicitly tell me to 'serve' Luther Black well?"

"I am simply granting his wish."

Leo opened his mouth to speak, but ultimately chose silence.

He had been sent by Old Mr. Cross years ago to help Damien manage the family's "business." His loyalty lay strictly with The Code and the patriarch; he never involved himself in his boss's messy personal affairs.

"I won't make this difficult for you."

I extended my hand toward him. "Give me the contract. The girl is gone; I will take her place."

Leo silently handed over the document.

I quickly scanned the terms.

Merely meeting Luther tonight: Three million.

If I successfully bedded him: An additional five million.

If I conceived his child: Ten million.

And if I managed to marry Luther Black... I would receive ten percent phantom equity in the entire Cross family empire.

My fingers tightened violently around the paper.

I couldn't help but remember just five days ago, when I had swallowed my pride and acted cute, playfully begging Damien to buy me a simple handbag.

Back then, he had ruffled my hair, feigning a look of utter helplessness.

"The heat has been on our shipments lately, and all our capital is tied up in stock. A few hundred grand isn't exactly pocket change, babe. Be a good girl, okay? We'll get it next time."

Yet, the very moment he turned his back, he sneered to his cronies over drinks:

"Women are so damn short-sighted. The only thing they know how to do is hold out their hands and beg."

I signed my name on the contract without a single second of hesitation.

Leo looked troubled: "Mrs. Cross, this contract... it needs the Boss's personal signature to be valid.

If he doesn't recognize it, I can't help you..."

"Call him."

My voice was unusually steady.

Leo dialed the number.

In the heavy silence, my heart pounded like a war drum.

Five years. To say I didn't have a shred of lingering affection left would be a lie.

I even pathetically hoped that the moment he saw my name on that paper, Damien might be filled with regret. That he would dump that Jessica woman and rush back here to stop me.

But he didn't.

Damien's suppressed panting rasped through the speaker:

"Damn it, do you really need a signature right now?"

"Do you have no sense? Believe it or not, I'll have the Old Man break your legs!"

Leo steeled himself and explained: "Boss, the contract involves a significant transfer of assets; you have to sign off on it personally."

Mr. Quinn's car is already at the intersection. The person... has to be delivered tonight."

Damien cursed, the background noise mixed with a woman's coquettish whimpering.

A moment later, his flamboyant, arrogant signature glared from the electronic contract preview.

"Done yet?

All this for such trivial bullshit!

A piece of merchandise being sent away thinks she can climb up to Luther?

Keep dreaming!

If you can't settle it tonight, just toss her to the brothers to have some fun with. Don't expect a single cent!"

The last shred of illusion shattered.

My name was written clearly on the contract, yet he hadn't even spared it a glance.

I hit the send button, signed the divorce papers, and forwarded them to Leo. "Tell him to sign this one too," I said.

Leo did as he was told.

On the other end of the line, Damien's cursing grew louder. Again, without even glancing at the document, he furiously scrawled his signature.

A woman's delicate, startled cry drifted faintly through the speaker:

"Damien... be gentle... ah... I'm going to fall..."

Damien's voice was husky with lust:

"Guide it in yourself and sit down. Take it all!"

The call was abruptly cut off.

Just like my marriage to Damien.

My mind remained a blank slate until Leo left the room and returned with Luther.

Eight years. From falling in love to our years of marriage.

I had never once checked Damien's phone. I had never deigned to stalk him or track his movements.

Now that we were suddenly divorced, I couldn't quite process it.

It wasn't until I felt a chill on my cheek that I realized I was crying.

"You're the one Damien sent?"

A deep voice resonated from in front of me.

I lifted my head.

Luther lounged on the central black leather sofa, a cigar resting between his fingertips, regarding me with amusement.

"What's the matter? Is the prospect of playing with me really that agonizing?"

I wiped away my tears and stood up, only to be met with an even more blatantly lustful gaze.

It was then that I noticed a middle-aged man seated next to him—Mr. Vance, the very man who had previously supplied women to Damien.

Mr. Vance looked me up and down with evident satisfaction.

"Dressed like a real slut, aren't you, little beauty?"

"Damien, that kid... he isn't honest. I send him the top girl from my club, and every single time, he sends back damaged goods that have been used God knows how many times."

"I thought he didn't have any high-quality stock left in his inventory. But I never expected the one he prepared for you, Mr. Quinn, to be such a prime catch."

"Mr. Quinn, tagging along today has really paid off for me!"

Luther slowly exhaled a thin plume of smoke, his gaze landing critically on my legs.

"Not bad. But the surgical scars are a little too conspicuous."

"Serena Vance, you really are devoted. To think you would be willing to undergo that kind of surgery just for him."

Mr. Vance raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise.

"Oh? Does Mr. Quinn actually know this girl?"

"Had a taste already?"

Luther sneered, his expression unreadable.

"Never touched her."

"She has a fiery temper. She refused to have anything to do with me."

Mr. Vance laughed loudly, slapping Luther on the shoulder like they were old war buddies.

"No wonder!"

"I was just thinking that this girl looks exactly your type! She even bears a striking resemblance to that first love of yours!"

"But since Mr. Quinn isn't interested, I suppose I'll help myself. My thanks to both you and Damien for passing up such a treat."

Saying this, he stood up and swayed as he reached his hand out toward me.

"Come here, little beauty. Don't be shy.

Your Damien specifically mentioned that this private dining room is 'clean'—no messy cameras or bugs.

Tonight, we can do whatever we want."

I was just acting out of spite before, but now that the moment had actually come, I was still afraid.

My voice trembled as I shrank back: "Mr. Vance, please have some self-respect.

I'm here on Damien's orders to serve Mr. Quinn..."

"Quit the act!"

Mr. Vance grabbed my wrist and yanked me violently into his arms.

"You're in this line of work and you think you can pick your customers?

What's the difference between serving one man or two!"

"Let me tell you the truth. You think you can latch onto Mr. Quinn?

Keep dreaming!

In all these years, I've never seen a woman actually make it into his bed!"

"I'm different. Keep me happy tonight, and you'll have houses, cars, jewelry—whatever you want. Understand?"

He leaned his face in close as he spoke: "So soft. Let me have a good time."

"Get off me!"

Disgust and fear overwhelmed my reason; I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face.

"Damn it!"

Recoiling in pain, Mr. Vance shoved me away violently.

Just as my back was about to hit the wall, Luther suddenly reached out and steadied me.

His voice was pitched extremely low: "Tell me the truth.

Damien doesn't know about this, does he?

Otherwise, how could he bear to 'send' you away like this?"

I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper, but I said nothing.

Across from me, Mr. Vance had already furiously dialed Damien's number.

From the speakerphone came the undisguised sounds of wild panting and the wet slap of bodies colliding, the rhythm growing even more intense with every second.

"Yo, Mr. Vance? You need something?"

"By the way, Jessica, the one you sent over last time... she's fucking incredible!"

"I haven't properly thanked you for her yet..."

Mr. Vance sneered at the phone.

"You know exactly how obedient the girls I send you are."

"And yet, is this how you screw me over?"

"We are in a private suite at your Private Club right now!"

"This new girl of yours has a hell of a temper. She actually dared to slap me!"

"Damien, do you have a fucking problem with me?"

Silence hung on the other end for two seconds before Damien laughed apologetically: "How could I? ...The girl doesn't know the rules, please bear with her.

Put her on the phone. I'll teach her some manners."

The phone was shoved into my hand.

I took a deep breath and spoke clearly.

"Damien, if you come now, you can still save me."

The receiver went silent for a moment.

Then, a delicate, sugary female voice rang out, dripping with mockery: "Who do you think you are?

You think you're worthy of ordering Damien around?

Damien picking you was doing you a favor. Why should he save you?

Do you really think you're something special?"

Damien hadn't been listening at all.

He handed the phone to Jessica, letting her deal with me.

"You're just an object sent out to make people happy, why put on airs?

Do you still think you're some heiress?"

I bit my lip and forced a bitter, self-mocking smile.

"Aren't you just an 'object' sent by someone else, too?"

"You know damn well he has a wife, yet you throw yourself at him. What, are you actually dreaming of becoming 'Mrs. Cross'?"

The other end of the line fell into a sudden, dead silence.

It was broken a second later by Jessica's furious shrieking and wailing:

"Damien! Listen to this! She's insulting me!"

"She said I'm the same kind of trash as she is! She said I'm delusional about you!"

Damien's voice, sweet to the point of nausea, rang out immediately:

"Baby, don't listen to her nonsense. How could you possibly be the same as them?"

"Your family fell on hard times; you had no choice but to work as a hostess... unlike her. She is a natural-born slut."

"Didn't I promise you already? As long as you stay by my side, within a year at most, I will definitely divorce her and marry you."

"You know that washed-up housewife has been with me for so many years. Divorce is messy. Assets need to be transferred. I have to find a way to make sure she leaves with nothing... it takes time to orchestrate."

I stared dead at the phone screen, biting my lip until it almost bled.

So he had planned this all along.

Not only does he want a divorce, but he wants me kicked out with absolutely nothing.

Jessica broke into a smile through her tears and whined coquettishly: "Damien, if only you had met me sooner... you wouldn't have been dragged down by that useless woman for so many years."

Damien scoffed: "Exactly, right?

Back then I was short-sighted and hadn't seen anything better.

Besides spending money, she's useless. She's no help to the company at all."

"Unlike you, charming people at dinner parties and closing so many deals for me.

Who else would I marry but you?

I wish I could marry you tomorrow!"

Five years of marriage, he guarded company affairs like a fortress, never letting me near them.

Just because although my family isn't in the underworld, we have our own business.

He was afraid I'd know too much and run back to tell my parents' home to steal his business.

It was clearly his narrow-minded suspicion, but in the end, it became my 'incompetence'.

Ridiculous.

In that case, Damien... this time, I will definitely help you close a monumental deal.

You will be absolutely satisfied.

"Alright, enough talking about that bad luck charm."

"Mr. Vance, you guys have fun. We won't interrupt you any longer."

"Oh, right. Jessica mentioned you have... specific tastes."

"So I made sure the room was stocked with plenty of whips and handcuffs."

"Don't hold back."

"If she disobeys, use them. 'Discipline' her well for me."

"Damien, aren't you going to ask who is keeping us company tonight?"

Luther suddenly spoke up.

Damien hesitated almost not at all: "I don't care who it is."

"I only have eyes for Jessica right now.

As long as you don't touch her, any other woman is up to Mr. Vance and Mr. Quinn to do with as they please."

Luther sneered: "Fine.

Damien, I hope you don't regret this."

"Damien, do you have any consc—"

I couldn't hold it back anymore and roared, but Damien hung up without hesitation the moment I got the first word out.

The unfinished curses stuck in my throat, turning into a flood of tears. I couldn't tell if it was grievance or unwillingness.

Luther stood up, fixing me with a heavy, complex stare. He seemed on the verge of speaking, but ultimately held his tongue.

The very next second, a notification popped up from my pinned contact.

"Wifey, I'm stuck doing inventory and checking the accounts tonight. It's going to be an all-nighter. Don't wait up for me; get some sleep."

"Be a good girl. Kisses."

Scrolling up through the chat history, day after day, it was an endless stream of the same gentle, considerate lies.

Every single sentence felt like a poison-dipped blade, slicing through my heart.

I unpinned the chat. I blocked him. I deleted him.

My movements were clean and decisive, yet my fingertips trembled ever so slightly.

When I looked up again, Mr. Vance had already seized the short leather whip that Damien had so "thoughtfully" prepared.

He swung it at me without a moment's hesitation.

"Did you hear that? Your master has spoken!"

"Disobey, and you get the lash! I am going to beat you into submission tonight!"

The whip whistled through the air as it slashed down toward me!

A hand with well-defined knuckles shot out of nowhere, grabbing the tip of the whip with precision.

Luther stood in front of me, his voice cold: "That's enough."

"Barnaby Vance, you can leave."

Mr. Vance froze, then exploded in rage: "Luther!

What the fuck is the meaning of this?

You said yourself you weren't interested in women!

Didn't you call me here so we could handle this chick together and report back to Damien?

Why play the good guy now?

Are you playing me?!"

Luther released the whip and methodically wiped his hands: "I'm not interested in women."

"Except for her."

Barnaby glared at me, his face full of unwillingness: "And if I insist on having her?"

Luther didn't waste another word; he raised a hand and pressed his earpiece.

The door to the private dining room burst open, and a group of bodyguards in black rushed in, grabbed Barnaby without explanation, and dragged him out.

"Luther!

You just fucking wait!

I'm going straight to Damien to tell him you've lost your mind over his damaged goods!

Don't come crying to me when this woman ruins you!"

Barnaby's clothes were disheveled, his wretched curses cut off as the door closed.

Luther acted as if he hadn't heard a thing. He picked me up, threw me onto the sofa, and his intense kisses rained down dominantly.

"Serena, I'm asking you one last time.

Will you give him up and come with me?"

"I'm begging you."

Those last few words shattered my crumbling defenses.

Tears burst forth like a broken dam. I reached up, hooked my arms around his neck, and kissed him back.

After the passion subsided, I placed two contracts in front of Luther.

"Luther, I've divorced him.

Marry me."

"Please."

Luther's eyes darkened. Just as he was about to speak—

Bang!

Damien kicked open the door to the private dining room.