Chapter 1
For three long years of marriage, he never once laid a hand on her. To him, she was merely a high-class servant! Now, with his ex-wife in the hospital struggling to give birth and the doctors frantically calling for help, he turned to her with utmost seriousness, ignoring her pale and weak appearance. "You have to save her!" he pleaded. With all the strength she could muster, she clutched the scalpel tightly. "Is she really that important to you?" She risked her life for him, but he simply scoffed in return, "What you want is our Hawthorne family’s money." With a divorce agreement in hand, she flew away, determined to cut ties for good. Their paths would cross again, but this time, she stood in front of the church, arm in arm with another man, ready to marry. Just as the vows were about to be exchanged, a commotion ensued. The groom was suddenly dragged out of the church, leaving her side exposed as he stepped in. "I do," he declared with a fierce look. "I don't," she shot back defiantly. His cold gaze bore into her. "If you’re okay with letting that man outside die, I won’t stop you…" She smirked disdainfully. "When I cared about you, you meant the world to me. Now that I don’t, you’re nothing more than a joke!" For three years, he had treated her as invisible, wrapped up in his own world. She had played her role, serving him dutifully while longing for something more. Now, as her life unfurled in unexpected ways, she wouldn’t be shackled to the past. She looked toward the future that stretched before her, filled with potential. Still, she could feel the weight of his gaze, the silent challenge in his eyes. Would she let him back in, even for a moment? Or was she finally free? As she faced the reality of love, loyalty, and the need for independence, her heart stirred with possibilities once kept at bay by fear and frustration. The world before her was no longer just about him. The choice was hers to make now. And this time, she would choose herself.
Chapter 2
Elena Fairchild's eyes widened as she stared at her best friend, Lydia Willowbrook, confusion etched across her face. "Yes! Divorce!" Lydia nodded vigorously. "You need to divorce Cedric Hawthorne!" "He doesn’t love you at all. Do you really think staying with a man who doesn't love you will make you happy?" Elena took a deep breath, sipping the juice in front of her. "He doesn’t love me, but I love him, and that should be enough..." “....” “Elena Fairchild, you… you…” “Are you trying to drive me crazy?” Lydia poked Elena’s forehead emphatically. “Why do you hold on to such delusions?” “You spent three years crushing on Lord Cedric, married him for another three, and altogether wasted six years. If he was ever going to love you, he would’ve shown it by now!” Elena stared at her friend, wide-eyed. “That’s alright; I can keep waiting until he loves me.” "Elena Fairchild—" When Lydia called her by her full name, it meant she was genuinely upset. At moments like this, listening carefully to every word was essential. "You’re already twenty-five. That's the prime age for women. Once you go past that, it's all downhill! You've wasted six years with Lord Cedric. How many more years do you want to squander?" "Ten years?" "A hundred years?" "Your youth is fleeting! You're wasting your precious years!" "Okay, I understand. Just give me a little time to think." After pretending to take Lydia's argument seriously, Elena responded. Hearing the dismissive tone, Lydia's frustration flared up. “You keep saying you’ll think about it, but what’s the result of your thinking?” “After I think about it, there will be no results!” “You love Lord Cedric, but how does he treat you? Has he ever loved you back?” Elena looked down, biting her straw tightly. “Lydia, this is between him and me. I might not love myself, but I can’t help loving him...” "You... how can you still not see it?! Lord Cedric doesn’t love you at all!" “If he truly loved you, he wouldn't have married you and then ignored you for these past three years, treating you like furniture, like a trophy. If he cared, he wouldn’t flirt with other women after tying the knot!” “Look at this!” Lydia exclaimed, pulled out a newspaper from her bag and slammed it down in front of Elena. “Look at the picture the paparazzi caught of that woman visiting Rosalind Harper's house. Don’t you feel heartbroken? I feel embarrassed for him!” “Elena Fairchild, how can you be so foolish?!” Lydia's voice was loud, drawing the attention of several people in the coffee shop. Elena had initially been smiling, but as she glanced at the photo, the expression froze in shock. The newspaper featured a stunning woman and a handsome man. The woman was none other than Rosalind Harper, the new singing sensation adored by the masses. And the man... was Cedric Hawthorne, the dashing real estate tycoon of Northland Town, and Elena's husband. In bold lettering, the paper screamed: "Real Estate Tycoon Spends Night at Pop Star's House, Never Comes Home." The headline dominated the entertainment section, with a photo of Lord Cedric, his charming smile half-hidden as he held Rosalind's slender waist possessively. His lips hovered near her collarbone while she flashed a seductive smile, clearly enjoying the moment. Thanks to the media's portrayal, the image served as undeniable proof of Lord Cedric's betrayal. </divorce>
Chapter 3
Elena Fairchild stared at the photograph, her heart churning as if it had been violently pricked—a deep, unsettling ache gripping her. The kind of pain that whispers in silence. She wished she could turn a blind eye, to convince herself that it was just another false headline in the tabloids. But reality was relentless; it never lied. There, unmistakably, was Cedric Hawthorne, the photographer having captured him at precisely the right moment, even highlighting the small mole beneath his brow. If it wasn’t Lord Cedric, then who could it possibly be? “Maybe... maybe he was just acting,” she murmured, the words struggling to escape her lips like a bad hangover. “Acting?!” Lydia Willowbrook, her best friend, snatched the newspaper, practically throwing it in her direction. “Are you serious, Elena? Do you genuinely think this is some dramatization?” “For three years, Lord Cedric’s life has been a swirl of rumors; today it’s a supermodel, tomorrow it’s a socialite, the next it’s a singing sensation—were they all just part of some performance?” “Or maybe he never cared about you, never saw you as his wife?!” Lydia’s words rang true. In their three years of marriage, Lord Cedric had never once returned home at night. And on the rare occasions he did, he’d take the guest room, leaving her alone in their bedroom as if she were a mere ghost. Sometimes she found herself questioning the purpose of staying with Cedric. Yet one truth remained: if she left Lord Cedric and the security of the Hawthorne name, the Fairchilds would plunge into poverty. Their possessions stripped away, her younger brother would have to abandon his cherished experiments. So the mantra she clung to was: Endure. Just hold on a little longer, and it’ll all work out. Regardless of Lord Cedric’s transgressions, she kept her silence, never prying, because the Fairchild family was but a parasite living off the Hawthorne legacy; without him, she was nothing. Where Lord Cedric stood, that was where Elena Fairchild felt truly alive. No action of his could diminish her love for him. Because Lord Cedric was her sky, her earth—the foundation for her very existence. In the face of survival, what did dignity truly matter? When life's most pressing need was survival, dignity became a mere afterthought. Elena had no recollection of how she left the coffee house; all she felt was an emptiness where her heart used to be—a gaping void in her chest. Lydia continued to talk, her voice a distant murmur in the background; that photograph had sent her mind reeling, stars swirling before her eyes. This wasn’t the first time she had seen such a photo; what was there to cry about anymore? Every time he was spotted with another woman, she had shed tears initially, but after three years, her well had run dry. If it had been a reservoir, it would now be just an empty basin. Divorce? Perhaps Lydia was right. A loveless marriage couldn't prosper; like her and Lord Cedric, they were mere parallel lines twisted together. What was the use of that? Weren't they just cohabitating while treating each other as strangers? She could only expect that being together would only widen the chasm Lord Cedric seemed to have for her... If she followed through on a divorce, what would become of her father’s debts, her mother’s illness, and her brother’s education? With a soft swipe, she brushed away her tears, pulled out her phone, and typed in a number she recognized but had never dialed before. Her thumb hovered over the call button before she canceled it—the last thing she wanted now was to disturb him in his work. After a moment of hesitation, she settled on sending him a text: “Lord Cedric, if you give me five million, I’ll agree to the divorce.”
Chapter 4
On the night of their wedding, Elena Fairchild had harbored hopes that he would stay with her. Instead, he coldly narrowed his eyes at her and sneered, "Elena Fairchild, you married me for my money, didn’t you? Just name your price. How much for a divorce?!" At that moment, she felt no fear. She stared back at him, wide-eyed, "I didn’t marry you for your money! I married you because I love you! My love for you is priceless!" He gritted his teeth, a mocking smile twisting his lips, "Then let’s see just how priceless your love really is!" With that, he shoved her aside and stormed out of their marital suite. The loud slam of the door shattered the beautiful dream she had built for that night. Love is beautiful, but marriage can be cruel. To love someone who doesn’t love you in return is perhaps the sweetest of delusions. That night, Elena Fairchild felt every word of that truth deep within her. After sending the text, she stood still for a moment, gazing up at the sky. The glaring sun bore down upon her head, causing her eyes to sting. Her relationship with Cedric Hawthorne felt like that of the eyes and the sun—thirsting for light but unable to face it directly for fear of burning. Had he been waiting for this day for long? From the very first day of their marriage, had he anticipated this moment? Cedric Hawthorne, I’ll set you free... No matter how desperately I wish to hold on, no matter how painful it is, I’ll try to let go. Cedric Hawthorne, this time, I’ll give you the freedom you desire… Her heart gradually settled as the phone remained silent. He must be busy arranging the money, right? Five million dollars isn’t a small sum. A shrewd businessman like him wouldn’t overlook such a significant figure, would he? It’s just five million—his freedom must be worth at least that much, shouldn’t it? She tucked her phone back into her bag, straightened her posture, and headed toward the hospital where her mother was staying. The coffee shop was near the hospital. She had chosen this place because it was convenient, allowing her to see her mother quickly. Across from the coffee shop stood a large jewelry store. As she stood before the entrance, a familiar figure caught her eye. Her breath caught in her throat. No wonder he hadn’t replied! He was busy charming another beauty, selecting jewelry to make her smile. Where was the time to check on her, the invisible wife? From a distance, she could see the gentle smile on his face as he doted on the petite woman by his side, as if protecting her from the world. That look of infinite affection—she had never received even a fraction of it from him. Suddenly, he seemed to notice something and turned to glance in her direction. Panic surged in Elena Fairchild; she quickly ducked behind a nearby phone booth. When she dared to peek out again, the bustling jewelry store had already swallowed him up. Elena let out a sigh of relief and turned back toward the hospital. “Cedric, do you think this pendant is pretty?” A sultry voice wafted softly into her ears, light and airy like a gentle breeze. The name rolled off her tongue like a familiar refrain, one that clung to her heart. Turning back involuntarily, she was met with the last face she ever wanted to see. Elena Fairchild wanted to flee, but the moment had passed. She instinctively averted her face, pretending to be a stranger as the two walked past, engrossed in their world. Cedric Hawthorne had once said that if they met outside, they were to pretend not to know each other, or he would throw her out of Hawthorne Manor. “Why, it’s Lady Hawthorne!” the sultry voice called out from behind her, “Lady Hawthorne, hello…”
Chapter 5
Elena Fairchild's nails dug deep into her palm. She had thought that once she resolved to get divorced, the tears would stop. Yet her eyes were swollen, and her throat felt constricted, making her heart race and ache. The pain in her palm couldn't quell the hurt in her chest; it felt like stepping on broken glass. When she tried to turn away, her heel twisted awkwardly, nearly sending her to the ground. Fortunately, she caught herself on a nearby payphone. “Ms. Harper, I’m your biggest fan. I love your music…” she said, her voice stiff as she offered a hand to the woman from the magazine cover. However, her outstretched hand trembled slightly, an effort to mask the wounds she had inflicted on herself. Rosalind Harper didn’t take her hand. Instead, she leaned casually against the imposing figure of Cedric Hawthorne, wrapping her arm around his. “Thank you, Lady Fairchild, for your support…” “But I owe everything to Lord Cedric. If it weren’t for his unwavering support, I wouldn’t be where I am today.” She looked adoringly at Cedric, placing a delicate kiss on his cheek. Before the gathered crowd, their affection radiated like a spotlight, completely overshadowing Elena, the original wife. She withdrew her hand, which had hovered there for far too long, replacing it with a forced smile. She understood that Cedric had never seen her as someone important. As his wife, she knew she had to face this with resilience, adhering to the unspoken rule of the Hawthorne family—no tears in public, as he had once dictated. Swallowing hard, she managed a bright smile, while internally, she felt herself drowning in sorrow. “Ms. Harper, your dress is breathtaking. It must be from a famous designer… And your watch is so classy, perfectly suited to your elegant style… The pendant you’re wearing is stunning, absolutely lovely…” Rosalind responded with a sweet smile, glancing shyly at Cedric. “Oh, this pendant? Cedric chose it for me…” Elena's face drained of color. Though she tried to maintain her bright smile, it felt painfully forced. She continued to talk, her words spilling out in a mechanical stream, as if she were a robot programmed only to compliment. “Elena, have you said enough?!” A voice interrupted her feeble attempts at conversation. It was Cedric, standing beside Rosalind. “I... I...” Elena stammered, flabbergasted by her own sudden chatter. She was never one for small talk, yet something compelled her to fill the silence in front of Rosalind. “Cedric, please, don’t be so harsh. Look at how pale Lady Fairchild has become…” Rosalind interjected, stepping in front of Elena like a shield. It felt as if she were Cedric's true wife, while Elena had become the outsider, the intruder. Rosalind's intervention seemed to have an effect—Cedric fell silent, coldly assessing Elena. Under his frosty gaze, she wished for a hole to swallow her whole. She understood his resentment; it was simply because she was in his way, a hindrance to him and his new muse. The atmosphere was stifling. Cedric stood there without a word, but his very presence was heavy and oppressive. “Cedric, Lady Fairchild isn't worldly; she’s just a homemaker. It's only natural she’s a bit starstruck meeting someone as famous as me—don’t hold it against her,” Rosalind tried to pacify him. “A girl raised in poverty wouldn’t know much about the world!” Cedric snapped. “Her parents survived by selling their own daughter!” Elena's mind went blank, her wits fading into fog. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks, collecting at the corners of her lips. Bitter…
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