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"I've filed for divorce." Colton Stevens impatiently walked over, his frustration almost palpable. "Four million should set you up for life."
Allison Clarke's face froze for a heartbeat. Her nails dug painfully into her palm as she fought to keep her composure. "It's our third wedding anniversary today," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Can't we at least finish this meal together?"
The scent of cooking oil and smoke clung to her, and her hair was pulled back with a simple black clip. A few loose strands framed her face, giving her a neat but plain appearance.
Today was supposed to be different. She had spent hours preparing a full table of his favorite dishes to mark their anniversary.
Instead of receiving his gratitude, she was told that they were going to divorce.
Colton scoffed, his eyes cold and distant. "Even if we finish this meal together, I'll never love you. Besides, Melany's back. She's proud, and she won't stand for this whole situation." A flicker of softness crossed his face at the mention of Melany Johnson, a warmth that had never been reserved for Allison, no matter how hard she'd tried. She had bent over backward for him, cared for his parents, and sacrificed everything for years. But none of it had earned her more than a passing glance.
Melany was the one who held his heart — had always held it. She had walked out on him three years ago, breaking off their engagement and leaving for abroad.
Yet now, with a mere word from her, Colton had easily embraced her return and chosen to divorce Allison without a second thought.
Allison gripped the table's edge as if trying to steady herself against a sudden gust of wind. "Does your grandpa know about this?"
Colton let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Don't think you can hide behind Grandpa. He's in the hospital and can't handle any stress. My parents are on board with the divorce. In fact, Melany met with them just today."
Allison's heart sank, an icy chill creeping through her veins.
She had once been celebrated as a genius perfumer, renowned hacker, and designer of weapons so sophisticated that even world leaders sought her out.
For three years, she'd buried every trace of that brilliance, molding herself into the perfect housewife. Just recently, she had secured a rare opportunity with Cobweb — the most elusive intelligence network — hoping to help the Stevens family clinch a crucial deal. A chance like that was nearly impossible to come by.
Yet now, it all seemed like a cruel farce.
"So, Melany's at your parents' place?" she asked, her voice brittle.
"Naturally." Colton smiled, his features softening as if the thought of Melany made everything brighter. "They just had dinner. Melany's always gotten along with my parents. They've been singing her praises all evening — saying how thoughtful and understanding she is."
"And you all knew she was coming back," Allison murmured, her voice thick with disbelief, "but left me in the dark." Her eyes glistened, the sting of betrayal cutting deep.
Thoughtful and understanding — how ridiculous.
His parents used to make the same comments about her.
Colton shot her an impatient glare. "It wasn't on purpose. The butler just forgot to mention it. Don't start creating drama where there isn't any."
He looked at her then, truly looked at her, and for a moment, his expression shifted to one of disdain.
Allison had always been delicate, her skin flawless, and her features striking, especially her bright, clear eyes. But none of that mattered. She was boring, and that was all. The ideal housewife, yes — everything he could have wanted in a caretaker for his parents — but living with her was stifling.
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