After my divorce, I spent 50 million dollars to be a young A-list star's sugar mama.

Youth certainly had its advantages.

He was energetic, inventive in bed, always ready to please.

But one night, as we were banging in the swimming pool, armed helicopters suddenly surrounded the hotel. Special forces swiftly secured the entire area.

In the blinding glare of searchlights, a man in a dark green military uniform emerged. His icy gaze locked onto the young man atop me.

It was my ex-husband, Mallory Nunez.

He was the youngest Major General in the Southern Command and a notorious workaholic.

During our five-year marriage, he had always been away for every important moment of my life.

When I was celebrating my birthdays, he was drilling soldiers at the border.

When I was severely injured in a car accident, he was on a joint operation overseas.

When my father lay critically ill, begging to speak with him, he was on a secret mission, completely unreachable.

Just as I had finally made my peace, accepting the solitude that came with his duty, explosive news swept through the entire military compound.

The iron-willed, aloof Mallory was keeping a delicate young mistress, spoiling her rotten!

***

When I first heard the rumors, I refused to believe them.

Yet somehow, I couldn't help using all my connections and savings to secretly look into that mistress.

But Mallory had protected her impeccably. Even with the help of an old comrade from the recon company, all I got was one extremely blurry snap of her profile.

In the photo, she looked vibrant and sweet, cradled carefully in Mallory's arms.

Ironically, he never showed such protectiveness for me once in our five years of marriage.

The evening I got that photo, I wandered out, my mind in turmoil.

Right after I stepped out of the military jurisdiction, however, several figures rushed over and thrust a sack over my head.

A storm of kicks and punches rained down. I curled myself into a ball, shielding my vitals in despair.

Amid the chaos, someone kicked my head. My ears buzzed, then I blacked out.

When I came to, I found myself in the military hospital.

Mallory's adjutant looked down at me, his eyes devoid of emotion.

"Mrs. Nunez," he said icily, "Major General Nunez advises you to stop prying into matters that don't concern you. Or next time, you'll get more than a beating."

I widened my eyes in disbelief.

Just because I got a blurred side-profile photo of his mistress, he had hired someone to attack me?!

My heart shattered, my blood running cold.

After a long moment, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. "General, I want to file for divorce."

With the divorce papers in hand, I went to the military compound where Mallory worked.

The guards stopped me at the gate. "Mrs. Nunez, Major General isn't in."

Swallowing my bitterness, I asked, "Where is he?"

One guard hesitated, then murmured, "He accompanied Ms. Woodward to the comprehensive training ground. They're holding a friendly shooting competition there today."

I took a deep breath to calm myself and hurried to the lively, crowded range.

The moment I stepped into the periphery, I saw Mallory standing at the firing line and the bright, pretty Rosanne Woodward right next to him.

The prize for the winner was a giant 80-cm cartoon plush toy.

Mallory had always disdained such "child's play," yet there he was, competing because Rosanne wanted that toy.

The gunshots rang out. He shot in rapid succession, each one precise, effortlessly outclassing every competitor.

Waves of cheers erupted, filling the entire training ground.

Amid the cheers, Mallory picked up the plush toy and walked toward Rosanne, a look of helpless indulgence on his face.

Overjoyed, she threw herself at him and planted a loud kiss on his cheek.

I watched from the side, my heart torn apart.

In all our years of marriage, Mallory had never joined me for any group activity.

I'd thought that he couldn't stand the noise and excitement because of his cold, stern character.

But the truth was, he had simply never wanted to make exceptions for me.

Clutching the divorce papers, I drew in my breath and walked toward him.

The moment Mallory saw me, he instinctively moved to shield Rosanne, his expression hardening. "What are you doing here?"

His defensive gesture felt like a blade twisting in my chest.

I forced myself to remain calm as I held out the document. "I need your signature."

Just then, his adjutant approached, reminding him to give a speech to boost the morale of the new recruits.

Mallory's tone turned icy. "I'm busy. Anything can wait."

But I no longer wanted to wait another second.

"This is important. It'll only take a moment," I insisted, my voice betraying a faint tremor. "Mallory, I want a divorce. Sign the papers. Once it's finalized, our paths will never cross again."

I said it all in one breath, bracing myself for his response.

But he only frowned. After a long pause, he tilted his head slightly. "What did you just say? Like I told you—I'm busy. We'll talk later."

With that, he turned and followed his adjutant toward the stage.

I drew another breath to suppress my anger. This was how it had always been for the past five years—he'd never paid any attention to what I said!

As I moved to follow him, Rosanne stepped forward, the giant plush toy in her arms, then snatched the papers from my hand.

"So, you're Mal's arranged wife?" She looked me over, a flicker of contempt in her eyes. "He's busy right now. I can sign for him. He gave me a personal seal engraved with his name, saying I could use it to sign any non-sensitive documents and stand in for him."

An invisible hand seemed to clutch my heart, squeezing the air from my lungs.

Everyone knew how meticulous and cautious Mallory was—he would personally review every document requiring his approval. But now...

As if to prove her point, Rosanne drew a small, finely made seal from her purse. Without even glancing at the content, she flipped to the last page of the divorce agreement and stamped it.

"Done."

Rosanne shoved the stamped papers back into my hand, her voice a blend of pity and warning. "Mal told me you got married purely under pressure from the elders. Since that's the case, don't come to him again unless it's urgent. He doesn't want to see you."

I stared at the vivid red seal—the symbol of Mallory's authority—on the agreement, feeling nothing but irony.

I parted my lips, about to tell her exactly what she had just signed.

Just then, a deafening explosion ripped through the training ground, followed by the shrill wail of sirens instantly.

"Live ammunition in the live-fire zone! Take cover! Now!"

The orderly shooting range erupted into chaos, and the crowd surged toward the exits in a blind panic.

Rosanne and I were knocked to the ground, trampled under countless frantic feet.

A sharp, sickening pain shot through my body, and every muscle and bone screamed in protest. I tried desperately to get up, but my struggles were useless against the stampede.

"Mal! Mal! I'm so scared!" Rosanne's voice cut through the noise, sharp with terror.

"Rosie!" Mallory's roar was raw with panic.

As I saw him fight his way back through the crowd, a pathetic flicker of hope reignited in my chest.

He pushed through, found Rosanne quickly, scooped her into his arms, and dashed toward the safe zone.

Through it all, he never even glanced in my direction.

"Mallory! Mallory!"

I screamed with all my strength, but my voice was lost in the din.

He never looked back.

Just as despair convinced me I would be crushed to death, he actually returned.

A spark of hope flared through my desolate heart.

He rushed back to my side, scooped up a pendant, and turned away, never once breaking stride.

"Great! You found it!"

Rosanne's joyful voice, trembling with relieved sobs, carried from the safe zone. "It's the first gift you ever gave me. If I'd lost it, I'd never have forgiven you."

"Don't be silly." His voice was tender, laced with lingering fear. "Nothing matters more than your safety. I'm just glad you're OK."

"I don't care. That pendant is proof of your love," she coquettishly replied before planting a kiss on his cheek.

In that moment, my heart was finally and completely shattered.

The truth struck me brutally. In Mallory's eyes, I—his wife of five years—was worth less than a pendant his mistress owned.

A crushing wave of despair and heartache swallowed me whole.

My vision dimmed, and I plunged into unconsciousness.