My husband had a fear of germs. He never let me kiss him. Later, I found out it was because his sister was the only person he wanted to kiss.

He only slept with me during my ovulation window. Just so I could give birth to a Morgan heir.

As I looked up at the man moving above me, I couldn't help but lean in, trying to kiss him. But he shoved me away.

"I told you, I have mysophobia." His voice was cold.

I nodded and didn't push it.

But the next night, I saw his sister kiss him right on the lips. And he didn't pull away.

She grabbed his belt, smirking. "Do you have to think of me to even get it up?"

"Yes," he answered.

That was the moment I made up my mind. With tears pouring down my face, I decided to divorce him.

***

May 6. Grace Spencer's ovulation day.

Owen Morgan flew back from New York just for this.

The bedroom that night was hot, practically burning.

Grace's cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were hazy as she looked up at him. His skin was pale, his features sharp, and his arched brows tinted red with arousal. He was almost too beautiful to look at.

Grace couldn't stop herself. She leaned up, wanting to kiss him. But the second Grace moved, his brows furrowed, and he pulled away.

"I told you. I'm a germaphobe."

His words were like ice water, pouring over whatever warmth she had felt inside. She blinked the hurt out of her eyes and backed off. "I got it."

The bedside lamp cast a warm glow, outlining our tangled silhouettes. The low, rough groans in the air made it clear he'd just finished.

Owen pulled out and rolled away, tossing a pillow beside Grace. She was still catching her breath as she grabbed it and propped up her hips.

She had to hold that position for thirty minutes every time. It was supposed to be the "'optimal angle for conception."

Steam filled the bathroom.

By the time Grace finally lowered her aching legs, Owen walked out. He wore a robe. His damp hair was tousled. Droplets slid down his neck, tracing the muscles beneath.

He stripped off the robe quickly, put on a button-up, and flatly said, "Hannah's coming back tomorrow. You're going with me to the airport."

As he buttoned his shirt, his vibe shifted back, cool, restrained, like always.

With broad shoulders and long legs, he could wear anything and still look like a model. And with that face, it wasn't fair.

Grace turned away, murmuring, "Okay."

He replied with a distracted voice and walked out the door.

They never shared a bed, except for the seven days of her ovulation. That's the only time they had sex, strictly on schedule, always in the same position, no exceptions. It was all just for one thing. Producing an heir for the Thompsons and Morgans.

Owen was the kind of man who needed everything scheduled, at the right time, place, and number of times.

During ovulation week, they had sex for seven days in a row, always in the same position, like clockwork.

Any other time? They barely acted like a couple at all.

Grace stared at Owen's back. She wanted to stop him, say anything, but just as she opened her mouth, he walked out the door.

Her lips closed silently, a dull emptiness settling in her chest.

She knew exactly how Owen saw their marriage. It was just a business deal, a partnership without love.

He didn't know she had fallen for him when they first met.

Owen said flatly back then, "This matchmaking thing is just for our families' interests. I'm in love with someone else, so I can't give you anything emotionally. If that's a problem, we don't have to go further."

But Grace had been so young. Naive. She thought he could learn to love her back if she loved him enough.

So she married him. Willingly. Hopefully.

Two years had passed, and he was still the same cold wall she couldn't break through.

The next morning, Grace got up early to make breakfast. Owen had just come back from a two-week business trip. She thought she would appreciate a home-cooked meal after a bit of distance.

She brought the food out and set it carefully on the table. Owen gave it a passing glance and sat down to eat.

Grace smiled at him. "How is it? You like it?"

"It's fine." His face remained unreadable, polite but distant. Then he added, like it was nothing, "You could've just let the housekeeper handle it."

Just one sentence and her mood plummeted.

He always found subtle ways to remind her. "I don't care about you. I don't love you."

They finished the meal quietly and then got in the car to head to the airport.

The VIP area of the airport was quiet.

Owen stood wordlessly, eyes fixed on the exit. His expression was hard to read, but Grace could tell he was in a bad mood.

Trying to ease the tension, she asked, "Why did Hannah go abroad, anyway?"

Hannah left the country right before Grace and Owen's wedding. She had not even returned for the ceremony.

It seemed like a normal question to Grace.

But Owen's face darkened instantly. His voice was sharp. "She had her reasons. You don't need to poke your nose into it."

Grace's mouth snapped shut.

She looked at him, at the sharp lines of his face, and felt a stab in her chest.

She was his wife. And asking one question made her nosy?

A woman in designer sunglasses and expensive clothes came out of the VIP exit. She spotted Owen and ran toward him, waving.

"Babe!"

Before Grace could even react, the woman threw herself into his arms.

"Babe, I missed you so much! Did you miss me?"

The woman acted like Grace didn't even exist.

Owen let her hug him for a few seconds before pulling back. Then he reached for Grace's hand. "This is my wife, Grace, from Spencer's."

Then he gestured to the woman. "This is my sister, Hannah."

Grace started to say hello, but Hannah's smile turned sharp.

"So you're Owen's wife, huh? Be a dear and grab my bags, would you?"

Without waiting for a response, she threw her luggage at Grace and casually wrapped her arm around Owen's.

Grace blinked, frozen, before silently following behind them.

Grace was about to take the passenger seat when they got to the car, but Hannah shoved past her and opened the door.

"I always ride shotgun with Owen. You're not gonna fight me for it, are you?"

Before Grace could reply, Hannah was already in the seat. With no choice, Grace swallowed her frustration and sat in the back.

The car pulled onto the highway.

Hannah casually reached up and flicked the peace charm hanging from the rearview mirror. Her tone turned odd. "Since when did you start believing in this kind of stuff?"

Grace jumped in, trying to keep things light. "Oh, I got that for him. To keep him safe."

In the rearview mirror, she saw Hannah's face change. Her glare could've cut glass.

"Do you not have any manners? Who taught you to interrupt when someone's talking?"

Grace froze.

She was about to say something back, but Owen's cool voice interrupted from the front. "How long are you staying this time?"

He was speaking to Hannah.

Her annoyed look shifted to a playful pout. "What, you already want me gone? Can't I stay a little longer?"

Owen didn't flinch. "Don't be childish."

At that, Hannah turned to stare out the window in a sulk, not saying another word.

The air in the car turned heavy.

Sitting in the backseat, Grace felt like she was on pins and needles. Deep down, she couldn't shake the feeling. The way Owen and Hannah acted didn't feel right.

After dinner, the three of them headed back to the house.

Later that night, Grace laid in bed waiting for Owen. But he didn't come.

She finally got up to look for him. As soon as she reached the top of the stairs, what she saw stopped her cold.

In the dim hallway, Hannah, wearing a skimpy lace nightdress, stepped close to Owen. Her bare arms wrapped around his neck. And then, she kissed him.

Grace felt like she had been struck by lightning.

The next second, Owen shoved Hannah away, his face clouded with fury.

"Hannah, are you losing your damn mind again?"

Under the lights, it was clear she wasn't wearing a bra. Her curves shifted with her movements, every line barely hidden.

She collapsed onto the couch, laughing like it was a game. "What are you so scared of? You can't fake what your body wants. Tell me, does your sweet little wife get you this worked up?"

Hannah approached with a grin, her pale fingers drifting down to his belt buckle.

"Look at this. Proof. Don't you need to think of me every time to get hard?"

Owen's eyes darkened, his expression unreadable. His hand lifted, fingertips brushing her hair briefly, then his palm clenched. He forced the emotion down.

"You're right. But we can't cross that line."

Grace had seen it all. Every second of it. And in her ears, it sounded like thunder.

She didn't even know how she had made it back to the bedroom. Her whole body felt like ice. She crawled under the blankets and curled up, trying to find some warmth, some comfort.

But no matter how tightly she wrapped herself, she couldn't unseen what had happened.

She had no idea how much time had passed before she felt a warm body press against her from behind. His arousal dug into her, heavy and insistent. His breath, hot and ragged, brushed against her ear.

Grace went rigid. It took her a few seconds to gather herself before she grabbed Owen's hand, stopping him.

Her voice was tense. "I'm tired. I'm not in the mood."

But he didn't stop. He pinned her wrists down and took her anyway, rougher, more desperate than ever before.

Just as she was about to reach the edge, everything went black.

Owen's hand suddenly covered her face. The move dragged her straight into a freezing abyss.

And then, Hannah's words echoed in her head. "Don't you need to think of me every time just to get hard?"

It hit her like a slap in the face.

She remembered now. Every single time they had sex, Owen would always cover her face with his hand. Now she understood why. He wasn't picturing her. He was picturing Hannah.

As the last wave of pleasure tore through him, Grace shut her eyes. A single tear slid from the corner.

Owen felt the wetness in his palm. His face froze for a second, like something sharp had pierced through his chest.

He softened his movements and murmured, "I'm sorry."

But a meaningless apology like that couldn't fix anything.

Grace didn't say a word. Her tears kept falling in silence.

He stared at her for a long time. His expression was complicated and hard to read. But in the end, just like always, he went to the shower and left the room.

That night, Grace didn't sleep. She laid there with her eyes wide open until morning.

When the alarm went off, she grabbed her phone and sent a message to Leila Morgan, who was on vacation.

"Leila, did you know Hannah's back?"

It took a while, but her phone started buzzing hard. A call.

She picked up. On the other end, Leila's voice was rushed and panicked, "Grace, Hannah has a mental illness. She says a lot of crazy things and sometimes gets violent. Don't worry. We plan to send her abroad again soon."

No. Something was very wrong.

Grace's already pale face turned ghostly white. Her gut told her Hannah's departure two years ago wasn't random.

Maybe the Morgan family already knew what was going on. Maybe everyone knew. Everyone but her.

She clenched her phone so tightly her knuckles turned white, heart pounding. But her voice stayed calm.

"Okay, Leila. Got it."

When she got up and washed her face, all her emotions were sealed away, hidden deep beneath the surface.

She drove to the Spencer Group for work. The moment she sat in her office, her assistant knocked and came in.

"Ms. Spencer, Mr. Morgan sent you a gift."

Grace paused. The gift was a Patek Philippe women's watch, worth three hundred thousand dollars.

Staring at the watch, Grace knew exactly what it was. Owen's way of apologizing for what he did last night. For how rough he'd been. For ignoring her completely.

The assistant looked at the watch with envy. "Mr. Morgan delivered it himself. You two are so in love."

"In love?"

Grace gave a soft, empty laugh and waved her assistant out.

She didn't want to think about the mess anymore. She buried herself in work instead.

It might have been true. When you were miserable in love, you thrived at work. That day, Grace finally closed a contract stuck in limbo for over six months.

At the celebration dinner, she let herself go a little. She got drunk. Really drunk.

By the time she stumbled home, it was late.

She pushed open the door, swaying, and the moment she looked up, she locked eyes with him.

Owen's cold, dark gaze was waiting for her. He caught her before she could fall. "You drank this much?"

Grace looked at his annoyed expression and laughed.

Owen was a neat freak. A control freak, too.

Their prenup had even spelled it out. No coming home reeking of smoke or alcohol. And this time, she'd broken that rule on purpose.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that scene from last night. It clawed at her chest like thorns.

She didn't answer him. Instead, she reached into her purse, pulled out a watch box, and tossed it at his feet.

"I don't want your apology gift."

Owen stared at her briefly, something flickering behind those distant eyes.

Then he said, "You want something else?

"If three hundred thousand isn't enough, I can get you that necklace, 'Heart of Hope,' right?"

The Heart of Hope was a breathtaking sapphire necklace designed by a world-famous jeweler. Only one was in existence, and it was worth five million.

But Grace didn't care. She met his eyes, lips pale, and said softly, "I don't need any of it. I only have one request. Tell Hannah to move out."

The moment those words left his mouth, Owen's brow furrowed, and his eyes turned cloudy as he looked at Grace.

After a long pause, his lips parted slightly. "She has nowhere to go. Pick another one."

Nowhere to go?

Grace couldn't believe the ridiculous words coming from Owen's mouth.

From what she knew, Owen owned three properties!

It wasn't that he couldn't make Hannah leave. He didn't want to.

The frustration of this subtle test was enough to break Grace.

Her eyes welled up with tears. "I don't have any other requests. Just this."

Owen glanced at her again, his face as cold as ever.

He remained firm in his stance.

"Everything else is up for discussion, but not this."

That's all.

The room fell into an oppressive silence.

Grace felt a heavy weight on her chest, to the point it made her breathing hard and suffocating.

At that moment, footsteps echoed from the stairs. Instinctively, Grace turned around, and Hannah walked toward them in a men's bathrobe.

Grace's eyes widened.

She bought that bathrobe for Owen. And now Hannah was wearing it!

The anger hit her like a wave. Without thinking, she marched forward and yanked at Hannah's collar. "Why are you wearing Owen's bathrobe?"

All Grace could think at that moment was that they had crossed a line.

Hannah's smooth neck was exposed, but luckily, there were no visible marks.

Grace felt a small sense of relief.

But Hannah quickly covered her neck and screamed, "What are you doing?!"

Before Grace could say anything, Owen stepped in, pulling her away and standing protectively in front of Hannah.

"She just borrowed my bathroom," he said, his tone so calm it was almost absurd.

Grace didn't buy it for a second.

She stared at him, her eyes cold and sharp.

Then, to her surprise, she chuckled bitterly, her expression a mix of sarcasm and sadness.

"Since when is it okay for someone to use your bathroom and wear your clothes like that?

"And besides, you have a thing about cleanliness. You never let me touch your stuff."

Owen faltered for a moment as if taken off guard. But before he could say anything, Hannah stuck her head out, scoffing. "You're overreacting.

"I've known Owen my whole life. We grew up together, slept in the same bed since we were kids."

Owen had never once shared a bed with Grace.

The words hit Grace like a knife to the chest. It hurt so much that she couldn't stop herself from shaking.

She glared at Owen, her voice icy with a demand for answers. "Owen, tell me, is this normal?"

The unspoken tension filled the room as if Grace had just shattered the delicate illusion between them.

Owen's expression darkened. He seemed increasingly frustrated. "Don't look at me like that. It's not what you think. Hannah is adopted. She's not related to me by blood."

Grace froze. This bombshell left her speechless.

She stood frozen, watching helplessly as Owen shielded Hannah and led her upstairs.

He did it carefully and with restraint, like someone wanting to get close but unable to, struggling to hold back. It was a side of Owen that Grace had never seen before.

In his heart, Hannah was different.

The realization hit her hard. Grace's eyes teared up, and her heart felt as if it were being torn apart.

In the days that followed...

After her ovulation period ended, Owen stopped coming to Grace's room. Their relationship fell back into its cold, distant, and business-like rhythm.

In the conference room of the Morgan Group.

Grace sat across from Owen, watching him lead the discussion on a project between the Morgan Group and the Spencer Group.

"The plot of land on the outskirts..."

Before he could finish, loud noises erupted from the door.

Grace looked over in confusion, just in time to see Hannah storming in. Without hesitation, she slapped Grace across the face.

"Grace, it was you. You're the one who called my mom and had me kicked out!"

Everyone in the room froze.

The high and mighty Grace, the heir of the Spencer family, had just been slapped?

Caught off guard, Grace felt a sharp sting on her cheek. Before she could even think, her hand flew up, and she slapped Hannah right back.

The sound of the slap echoed through the room.

Hannah froze, her hand flying up to cover her face, and she screamed, "How dare you slap me?"

What's there to be afraid of?

Grace kept her face cold as she raised her hand for another slap. But Owen grabbed her wrist and pulled her back before she could hit.

"Enough!"

Grace was thrown back and hit the corner of the table. A searing pain shot through her lower back, making her vision blur with its intensity.

Through the haze of pain, she could hear Owen's voice, full of concern for Hannah. "Your face is swollen. Let's get some ice on it."

Hannah held her cheek as she lifted her chin. Her diamond necklace gleamed around her neck. She wrapped her arm around Owen's, and they left together.

Grace felt a strange sharpness in her chest, something she couldn't quite place.

Grace walked out of the Morgan Group building. A slap mark was still visible on her face. As soon as she stepped outside, she got a message from Owen.

"Don't worry. There's no way she and I will ever be anything. It won't affect the partnership between the Morgan Group and the Spencer Group."

Reading the message, Grace couldn't help but let out a bitter laugh.

Owen had been saying for so long that nothing would happen with Hannah, yet his actions kept enabling her.

As for their relationship, there wasn't even a hint of affection left. It was just business, pure and simple.

Owen didn't love her. Not at all.

At that moment, Grace finally understood this truth, clearer than ever before.

She switched off the screen.

Grace didn't respond. She didn't want to just let Hannah off the hook like that.

But soon enough, the news reached Pamela Spencer.

Grace's phone rang, and it was Pamela calling.

Before Grace could speak, Pamela's stern voice came through the phone. "I don't care what's going on between you and Owen. On the outside, you two must appear like a loving couple. Do you know what the tabloids are saying about you two lately?"

Grace gripped her phone tightly, so hard her fingers started to turn white.

After a long pause, she finally managed to speak, her voice rough. "It's Owen's fault."

Pamela let out a cold laugh on the other end of the line, "Owen isn't playing around outside? His status means there will always be plenty of women throwing themselves at him. Can you stop it?

"As long as there's no illegitimate child, and it doesn't affect the company's reputation, just ignore it!"

Each word cut deep into Grace's heart.

She wanted to explain and voice all her grievances, but in the end, she said nothing. She replied with one word, as though accepting her fate.

"Fine."

After the call ended, Grace put on her fake smile in front of everyone. She continued to play the role of the happy wife with Owen.

On the other hand, Owen started doing things he'd never done before. He sent her flowers, and occasionally kissed her on the cheek. He even ignored his usual obsession with cleanliness.

Even though she knew it was all fake, just an act, Grace couldn't help but feel a brief moment of relief now and then.

That day, Owen came to pick her up from work again.

He was driving his usual favorite, a Maybach, and he gently fastened her seatbelt for her. In the dim light of the car, his handsome face was so close she could see every detail.

Grace muttered, "Thank you."

The discomfort in her heart seemed to slowly fade away. For a brief moment, she wondered if she tried harder, maybe things could still work out.

When Grace looked up, her heart plunged back into a frozen pit.

The peace charm was hanging from the rearview mirror, but it was gone now. In its place was the diamond necklace Hannah had worn the day she slapped Grace!

The car's center console lit up.

The sudden glow felt like a sharp jab to her eyes, and her vision blurred with tears. Her voice cracked as she asked, "Where's my peace charm?"

She saw Owen hesitate momentarily out of the corner of her eye, but he didn't say anything.

Grace's heart skipped a beat. She turned to face him, trembling slightly, "Did you lose it?"

This peace charm had been given to him a year ago. At that time, Owen had been in a car accident and was in a coma, unresponsive.

The doctors had all given up, saying him a vegetable. In despair, Grace prayed for a miracle all day and night. That's when she got the charm.

Owen had woken up miraculously, and since then, the charm had hung in his car.

She remembered the day she put it there. Owen had said something unusually tender, "Thank you. I'll keep it with me always."

But now? It was gone, discarded like trash.

Owen didn't answer for a long time.

Grace's heart slowly turned into ice. The atmosphere in the car became suffocating cold.

After a long silence, Owen finally spoke flatly, "Hannah will be moving out soon."

Grace blinked in surprise.

She hadn't expected Owen, who usually never backed down, to give in.

If this had happened before, she might have felt that maybe he cared about her. But at this moment, there was no joy in her heart.

Watching the trees pass by outside the window, she replied hoarsely, "That's great."

Her response made Owen pause for a moment. He saw her pale, fragile face through the rearview mirror.

A few seconds later, he looked away.

Then he said something else, "But her trip abroad will be delayed for a while."

Grace flinched at the words.

So, this was the real reason Owen had been waiting for her. He was just informing her of the delay.

Her eyes suddenly filled with tears.

She didn't look at him. After a long silence, she replied, barely audible, "Just remember what you said."

She needed him to remember what he had promised, that Hannah would be sent abroad.

That way, at least she'd have a date to mark her endurance.

Once she finished speaking, she closed her eyes, choosing to end the conversation.

The cramped space in the car grew quiet.

Owen's face remained unreadable, but his hand tightened briefly on the steering wheel.

Grace saw the butler moving Hannah's luggage out when they got home.

Hannah, seeing Grace, immediately stood up and glared at her with a look full of malice.

Grace didn't have the energy to deal with her and was about to head upstairs.

But as she passed by Hannah, she shoved her shoulder into Grace's.

Their eyes locked mid-air.

Hannah's gaze was full of provocation as she hissed, just loud enough for the two of them to hear, "We'll see about that."

Grace's heart tightened.

She knew all too well that when it came to Hannah, she had never had the upper hand.

Five days later.

Grace sat at the dining table, waiting for Owen to come home for dinner as usual. Suddenly, her phone buzzed with a message from him.

"I'm working late tonight. I'll be home later."

The screen's glow reflected off Grace's pale face as she stared at the message, unmoving.

This was the fifth time Owen had come home late since Hannah moved out.

He had obsessive-compulsive disorder, and for years, he always came home at exactly 7:30 p.m. to have dinner. No one could disrupt his routine.

But Hannah always managed to mess up everything.

Just then, Grace received another message from an unknown number. "Want to know about my past with Owen? Go to 8 Beverly Hills, 2nd-floor bedroom."

Grace's heart skipped a beat.

She knew that address. It was a private villa under Owen's name. He'd go there almost every few days.

Before signing their marriage agreement, they made one thing clear. She would never enter his private space.

She had planned to keep that promise, but her body couldn't hold her back. Torn between doubt, pain, and anger, she ended up in the car, heading toward the villa.

The door was unlocked as if waiting for her.

Grace took a deep breath and walked up to the second floor. When she looked up, her entire body froze.

On a huge wall hung countless portraits of Hannah. The endless images were overwhelming and dizzying, revealing Owen's deepest, darkest secret.

Right then, a message from Hannah arrived, perfectly timed. "In the 733 days I've been gone, he has painted a new portrait every time he thought of me. Want to know how many he has now? Maybe you can count them yourself."

Each word felt like a shard of glass stabbing through Grace's heart, bleeding her dry. It was unbearable.

This wall of portraits, filled with Owen's love for Hannah, made Grace's two years with him feel like a cruel joke.

She stood there, motionless, as uncontrollable tears drowned her.

She didn't know how much time had passed, but suddenly, a cold voice came from behind her. "What are you doing here?"

Grace slowly turned around, meeting Owen's cold, frosty gaze.

His lips were pressed into a thin line. "Grace, you've broken the agreement."

Her heart tightened.

In a hoarse voice, Grace said, "Hannah sent me here."

Owen didn't offer any explanation. His tone was sharp and commanding as he said, "You've seen enough. You can leave now."

Grace didn't move. Instead, she asked the question that had been burning inside her.

"If you love her so much, why did you marry me?"

At her words, Owen suddenly stormed over to her, bringing a chill and an overpowering aura. He stopped right in front of her. "I love Hannah," he said coldly. "But the interests of the company come first. I won't cross that line."

Is that so?

Then what about her? What did she mean to him?

In a daze, Grace couldn't stop herself from asking, "And what about me?"

Owen looked down at her, his gaze devoid of warmth. His cruel words pierced her heart with no mercy.

"You're my business partner, and soon, you'll be my wife and the mother of my child."

"Now that you have your answer, you can leave."

Business partner. Wife. Mother of his child.

But never the one he loved.

That was the answer Owen had given her.

Grace said nothing. She walked past him, standing tall and straight as she left the room.

Outside, a relentless downpour had started.

Raindrops as big as beans pelted Grace. She kept strolling, hoping the rain would get harder, hard enough to wake her up from this nightmare.

The rain soaked her face.

At that moment, she couldn't tell if it was tears or rain on her cheeks.

Facing the stormy night, she suddenly smiled, as if talking to herself. "But I don't want my child to have a father like that."

The Porsche screeched to a stop in the garage.

"Mr. Cale, prepare a divorce agreement for me."

"Understood, Ms. Spencer. Because of the assets involved, I'll need two days. Please be patient."

After hanging up, Grace returned home, her whole demeanor a mess.

She sank into the bathtub. She stared at the huge glass window. Rain poured down in heavy drops smashing against it.

The water in the bathtub gradually cooled. Grace suddenly remembered that the day she first met Owen had also been rainy.

It had been the day she was rushing to a blind date after work.

The roads were slippery, and she nearly slipped in front of the restaurant. It was Owen who caught her just in time.

His hand was long and clean, with prominent knuckles, and the veins stood out from the force he used. Looking up, she was struck by a strange sense of awe.

She recalled how he had smoothly handled business deals, pulling in others' profits with ease.

His face was always calm, always in control. She had been captivated by him. But in his eyes, it seemed there was no room for her.

She remembered when he received a call from overseas. The softness in his voice was something she'd never felt before.

All that came together in one bitter truth.

She had fallen for the wrong person.

In a daze, the water in the bathtub began to warm again.

Grace slowly stepped out of the tub. She planned to confront Owen with the divorce papers in two days.

But life had its own plans. The company's unexpected matters kept her busy for a whole week.

When she finally had the chance to message Owen about the divorce, a text from Leila completely threw off her plans.

"Grace, I'm back. Let's have dinner together tonight."

With no choice, Grace reluctantly made her way to the restaurant.

Blue Moon Beach Grill.

Grace arrived at the private room Leila had reserved.

When she walked in, she saw Hannah and Owen sitting at the table.

It was a long, rectangular table. Leila sat at the head of the table.

Owen and Hannah sat to her left, and Grace froze for a moment before sitting down on Leila's right side.

The atmosphere in the room seemed calm, but beneath the surface, tension simmered.

Leila had seen it all.

Her voice was heavy, but not angry, carrying an air of authority. "Let's eat first."

The group sat in silence as they ate. The quiet in the room was so thick that it felt like no one was even chewing.

Suddenly, the table shook slightly.

Grace felt something wasn't right. She bent down to pick something up and saw that Hannah was using the tip of her shoe to nudge Owen's foot under the table.

Owen remained calm, completely still on the surface, but he didn't pull his foot away. In fact, he seemed to be tolerating it.

It felt like a sharp thorn had pierced Grace's heart.

Struggling to breathe, she suddenly spoke up. "Hannah, what's going on with your foot? Why does it keep moving?"

Everyone at the table froze.

Hannah's face went pale with anger. She glared at Grace, but Leila cut in before she could say anything. "I've booked a flight for Hannah in three days."

Hannah's shock was evident. She immediately turned to her mother, disbelief written all over her face. "Mom, I don't agree!"

"It's not up to you to disagree!"

Seeing Leila's determined expression, Hannah looked to Owen for help, her eyes pleading.

Owen hesitated for a moment but then spoke. "Mom."

"No need to say anything more. The decision is final."

Leila's words were like a hammer, crushing any hopes Hannah had left.

She shot up from her seat, glaring at Grace. "Grace, are you happy now?"

With that, she stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Owen immediately got up to follow. As he reached the door, he turned to Grace, his voice cold. "I promised you I'd send Hannah away. Do you really have to be so impatient?"

As if everything was Grace's fault.

But from the beginning, Grace had no idea what she had done wrong.

She watched Owen walk away, saying nothing, while Leila's voice echoed in her ears. "Grace, don't worry. The position of Owen's wife can only be filled by you."

Grace forced a smile. "Okay."

She agreed with her words, but she was ready to call George and push for the divorce agreement as soon as she got home.

Pamela's call came in before she could even dial the number, freezing her in her tracks.

"You've asked Mr. Cale to draft the divorce agreement?"

Grace's face turned pale. "Mom, are you having someone spy on me?"

There was silence on the other end. Grace pulled at the corner of her lips, her voice barely audible. "Mom, I can't go on like this with him. I want a divorce."

She felt drained and almost pleading. But all she got was her mother's angry rebuke and warning.

"No!

"If you divorce, where will that leave the Spencer Group's reputation? What about our stock prices? Do you want people to mock me?

"If you go through with it, never call me your mother again!"

The phone line went dead, replaced by the harsh beeping sound of the call being ended.

It was like a drumbeat, each beep striking her heart, suffocating her with every beat.

As pressure grew to go abroad, Grace received daily angry texts from Hannah, cursing her.

She couldn't care less and thought Hannah had completely lost her mind.

The day Hannah was set to leave for overseas arrived.

Grace drove to the house on time.

Just as she was about to leave the car, she saw a pink sports car parked at the corner through the rearview mirror. She thought she saw Hannah's figure in it.

Before she could think it through, the pink car suddenly revved and sped straight toward her!

The loud crash echoed through the garage.

Grace's heart raced as if she had narrowly escaped death.

She instinctively slammed the gas pedal. In that split second, she swerved just in time to avoid the attack.

Hannah, however, couldn't react fast enough. She crashed headfirst into the wall.

Thick smoke billowed from the wreck.

Grace stumbled out of the car and walked to the flipped pink sports car to check on Hannah.

Inside, Hannah was still conscious, her voice barely a whisper. "Help me."

Grace looked at her coldly, then called the hospital and police. "Hello, there's been a car accident here."

Outside the hospital's emergency room.

"According to the surveillance footage, Hannah indeed hit you. Do you want to sue, or would you prefer to settle?"

Hearing the officer's question, Grace glanced at quiet Owen before speaking in a hushed voice. "Thank you for your concern. Can I handle this later?"

Owen seemed to ignore their conversation. He stood there like a statue, completely still. His cold eyes were fixed on the red light above the emergency room door, unmoving.

Once the police left, Grace approached Owen and spoke softly, "She should be okay."

"Shut up!"

Owen's cold, restrained shout froze Grace in place, leaving her speechless.

This was the first time she had seen Owen lose control like this.

The hallway was eerily quiet.

After a long moment, Owen still didn't look at her. His lips parted slightly. "You knew she wasn't well. Why did you keep pushing her to leave?"

An absurd feeling surged in Grace's chest.

Just a moment ago, Owen had heard the police say it was Hannah who hit her, but his first reaction was to blame her.

Grace's voice came out hoarse. "She almost killed me, and you're blaming me for forcing her to leave?"

Owen remained silent.

Grace's heart sank. Her body grew colder with every passing second, the chill seeping into her very bones.

The doctor who had come out of the emergency room broke the silence.

"The patient is fine. She has a broken leg, though. She'll need three months of recovery."

Grace clearly saw Owen breathe a sigh of relief. But then, the doctor turned to her, frowning. "Why haven't you had your hand checked? Your fingers look like they're broken."

Grace blinked in surprise.

She looked down and saw her ring finger and pinky bent at an odd angle. Only then did she feel sharp and sudden pain in her fingers.

Before she could respond, Owen cut her off.

"Can I see the patient now?"

Grace froze, her heart aching with a sharp, painful twist.

The suffocating weight of the moment crashed down her like a wave, pushing the pain in her fingers away even if for a moment.

"Okay."

After receiving the doctor's approval, Owen didn't glance at Grace as he walked past her into the room.

Grace stood still, pale and frozen. Then she turned and walked to the orthopedic department alone to get her fingers treated.

Because of the accident, Hannah's plans to go abroad were put on hold.

Even the usually tough Leila softened her tone.

She called Grace, trying to persuade her. "We're all family now. From now on, you should try to get along with Hannah. She's learned her lesson, and she's still in the hospital. Go visit her and show some concern."

Every word felt like a slap to Grace. Her throat tightened, and it took a long moment before she squeezed out a single word.

"Okay."

Grace bought some things like a walking corpse and headed to the hospital to visit Hannah.

The door to the hospital room was slightly ajar.

Just as Grace was about to push it open, she heard Hannah's spoiled voice from inside.

"It hurts so much! I don't want to eat this anymore. You eat it for me."

Through the door crake, Grace saw Owen, who usually had a thing for cleanliness. Now, he was gently eating the fruit that Hannah had eaten.

Hannah smiled coyly, continuing to play the victim. "It still hurts. Kiss me, and it'll stop hurting."

She tilted her head up, ready to kiss him.

And this time, Owen didn't push her away.

Grace stood at the door like a wooden statue. She wondered if she'd be stuck watching this scene for the rest of her life.

She was Owen's wife, but she couldn't escape that door.

She couldn't even remember how she had left.

That night, Grace lay awake in bed, slowly decaying like a corpse washed up on the shore.

Hannah was discharged from the hospital a week later and returned to the Morgan's house.

She sat in a wheelchair, her foot in a cast, provocatively smiling at Grace. "Grace, it looks like I'll be troubling you again."

Grace glanced at her and then at Owen, who was pushing the wheelchair.

She calmly said, "Did you forget what you said before?"

For a moment, the two locked eyes. Owen's expression shifted before coldly replying, "If you can't stand being here, you're free to leave."

Leave?

This was their bridal chamber; did he ask her to leave?

Grace looked at Owen in disbelief and said, "What did you say?"

Upon hearing this, Owen's expression became even more indifferent: "My patience is limited, Grace, please stop causing trouble."

After speaking, Owen ignored her and bent down to carry Hannah up the stairs.

An empty living room.

Grace stood numbly for a long time, with the bright light flashing over her head, reflecting in the gradually reddening corners of her eyes.

The following days.

Calm on the surface, but turbulent underneath.

In the villa, Owen's attitude was the barometer, and the identities of the two women seemed to have switched in the eyes of the maid.

Grace suddenly became an outsider, while Hannah, like a wife to Owen, had to be consulted on every little thing in the house.

Grace saw everything and became even more silent.

Just like in the past, Grace was about to leave for the office when she heard Hannah's smug and sinister voice behind her.

"Grace, died and took my dream of going abroad with her."

"I would always stay by Owen's side, forever..."

A chill crept up the spine.

Grace turned around and met Hannah's triumphant gaze, involuntarily blurting out, "What do you want, after all? Owen? But you two can never be together."

This sentence seemed to provoke Hannah, her face twisted for a moment, then she thought of something and took something out of her bag and threw it at Grace's feet.

Grace looked down and froze in place.

That was...

The amulet she gave to Owen.

The harsh mocking words of Hannah rang in my ears: "Even if I can't be with him, so what? At least I have his heart, unlike you, who begs for his love pitifully every day."

"It's really pitiful... This amulet, as soon as I asked for it, he gave it to me without hesitation. I heard that you kneeled all day to beg for it, right?"

Staring at the torn talisman, Grace's heart grew cold to the extreme.

Suddenly, she felt extremely bored.

The feeling of suffocation in her chest kept getting worse as Grace silently arrived at the Morgan Group. Today was the last meeting to be held for the joint project between the two companies.

The discussion lasted for over an hour.

Grace pressed her temples wearily and the new secretary brought over a cup of coffee, placing it beside Grace.

Grace took just one look and didn't move.

She noticed that during the meeting, Owen seemed distracted, occasionally glancing at his phone and replying to messages.

Grace was very clear that he was replying to Hannah's message.

After he finally put down his phone, Grace spoke up: "The meeting is over. Let's have dinner together tonight. I have something to tell you."

It is said that the beginning of a man and a woman becoming husband and wife is the first meal they eat together.

After Hannah appeared, they never ate alone again.

She wanted to bring up the topic of divorce at the dinner table.

Owen casually replied, "Okay."

Grace immediately got up and left.

After her figure disappeared, the assistant immediately came to tidy up the desk. Owen caught a glimpse of the coffee out of the corner of his eye and instinctively frowned, saying, "Ms. Spencer is allergic to coffee, so switch to tea in the future."

***

The sky was dark and gloomy.

It seemed like it was going to rain again. Grace went back home with a sense of dampness in the air. She still had two final things to do.

Fingers tapped on the keyboard.

On the screen, the title that caught my eye was a line of striking font: "Resignation Letter".

She finished quickly and then scheduled it to be sent to Pamela's email at midnight.

After finishing the task, Grace went to Owen's bedroom and placed the prepared divorce agreement.

When I left, a few drops of rain fell from the sky.

Grace carried a bag with only her identification, credit card, and a VIP ticket for a year-long global cruise.

She took a taxi to the French restaurant where she and Owen had met for the first time.

The rain grew heavier.

The soft music echoed in the restaurant as Grace closed her umbrella and walked slowly towards Owen, who was sitting in his usual spot.

"Sit down."

Grace smiled gently at him and then sat down. She proceeded to order, "One dish of French truffle foie gras, and one Bouillabaisse..."

In the light, the woman's profile silhouette took on a touch of coldness.

Owen looked quietly, somewhat absent-mindedly, thinking that she had ordered flavors he liked.

After ordering the meal, the waiter left.

The air around him quieted for a moment.

The sound of raindrops hitting the glass could be heard clearly, crisp, sharp, and clean.

The man opposite lowered his gaze, his eyes falling on his phone. Not knowing what message had been sent, a fleeting smile appeared on his pale lips.

Grace didn't disturb him until he put down his phone, then she hoarsely spoke, "Actually, I have always wanted to know, why did you marry me in the first place?"

As soon as the words fell, the phone on the table rang. Owen raised his hand to reject the call and then glanced at Grace indifferently, saying, "It's not important."

As if trying to comfort her, Owen's expression softened as he continued, "I know you haven't been feeling well lately. Don't worry, you will soon be back to normal."

Grace no longer cared about this matter.

She also didn't want to discuss this topic anymore. Today, she came to say goodbye.

She collected her thoughts and just opened her mouth: "I..."

The phone rang again!

This time, Owen pressed the answer button and listened to the voice on the other end. He was first startled, then his face turned serious as he said, "I'll be right there!"

He hung up the phone, only managing to leave behind one sentence: "Hannah is feeling unwell and is in the hospital, I have to go now."

Watching the figure stepping into the rain curtain, Grace's interrupted words drifted in the air.

"Actually, I have always liked you."

"But starting from today, I have decided not to like you anymore. Let's get a divorce."

The delicious dishes arrived late, Grace quietly glanced at the coffee on the table, picked it up, and took a sip.

The bitterness spread between the teeth.

The nausea caused by allergies churned in her stomach, her face calm as she slowly set down the coffee cup and stood up.

The bell hanging on the door rang once.

Ding dong!

The sound was crisp and pleasant, and the glimpse of beauty under the black umbrella disappeared in the lonely street corner in the rain curtain.

Owen.

Goodbye, never to be seen again.