Chapter 2

The persistent moaning from the bathroom hit my heart like a sledgehammer.

"Bastard." I bit my lip as angry tears welled up in my eyes. "After saying something so cruel, you still have to torture me like this."

I hurled my pillow against the wall, three months of pent-up resentment finally erupting. "First you tell me I can be with other men, then you do this? What kind of sick game are you playing!"

The sound of water from the bathroom stopped. I quickly lay back down and closed my eyes, pretending to sleep. But my heart pounded like a drum, and every image flashing through my mind reminded me—I'd had enough.

But why should I endure this? How did I end up here? What was I thinking three months ago?

Memories came flooding back like a tide.

Three months ago, chaos erupted at the engagement party at The Plaza Hotel.

"Thomas eloped?" The guests' whispers buzzed like a swarm of bees. "The Sterling family's reputation is ruined!"

I stood in my wedding dress in the center of the ballroom, like an abandoned doll. My fiancé Thomas Sterling had eloped to Paris with his secretary the night before our wedding, leaving me and both families to face the media frenzy.

"Miss Dubois! What's your response to Mr. Sterling's betrayal?"

"Sterling family stock has already plummeted 15%. Do you think this circus will continue?"

The reporters' camera flashes swept over me like machine gun fire, each flash feeling like it was peeling my skin. I felt like I was suffocating.

Just as I was about to break down, Alexander Sterling emerged from the crowd in his tailored suit.

He was taller than his nephew Thomas, calmer, more commanding. I still remember the thought that flashed through my mind—how could anyone maintain such perfect composure in this chaos?

"Ladies and gentlemen," his voice was low and powerful, "the Sterling family will honor all commitments."

The entire room fell silent, everyone waiting for his next words. I held my breath too, not knowing what this man would say.

Alexander turned to me, those deep blue eyes devoid of warmth yet carrying irresistible authority: "Miss Isadora, I'm willing to marry you in Thomas's place."

"What?" I couldn't believe my ears. Had this man lost his mind?

"This is simply a business arrangement, Isadora." He moved closer, lowering his voice. "We each get what we need. After one year, you're free to leave. My lawyers have already prepared the contract terms."

Free to leave after one year...

Lying in bed, I opened my eyes and smiled bitterly.

Why did I agree back then? Was it fear? Or was I intimidated by his commanding presence? Looking back now, I walked right into the wolf's den.

"Maybe it's time to exercise that freedom early."

Once that thought emerged, it wouldn't leave me alone. I was sleepless all night, and by dawn, my mind was made up.

The next morning at ten o'clock, I sat in my private dressing room and dialed a top New York law firm on an encrypted phone.

"Hartwell & Associates, this is attorney Rebecca Hartwell." A professional, composed female voice came through the line.

"Ms. Hartwell, this is Isadora Sterling. I need to consult about divorce proceedings." I tried to keep my voice calm.

Silence on the other end for a few seconds. Obviously, she recognized my identity. Who didn't know the Sterling family's new bride?

"Ma'am, what problems exist in your marriage? This relates to grounds for divorce and asset division."

I gripped the phone and took a deep breath: "We're... emotionally distant."

What kind of answer was that? Even I thought it sounded pathetic.

"Distance is a broad concept, ma'am. I need more specific information." Hartwell's voice was emotionless, like an interrogation machine. "Has Mr. Sterling committed domestic violence against you?"

"No." Actually, Alexander was very courteous to me—so courteous it made me sick.

"Financial control?"

"No." My credit card had unlimited spending. I could buy whatever I wanted.

"Then... are there issues in your intimate life? Does Mr. Sterling have any dysfunction? This could serve as strong evidence of marital discord in court."

The questions hit me like slaps across the face. I felt my cheeks burn and my throat go dry. A stranger was asking about my most private life, and I couldn't even answer.

"I..." I opened my mouth but found myself speechless.

Did Alexander have dysfunction? How would I know? He never touched me, never gave me a chance to find out. Three months, and I didn't know any of his physical secrets.

Was I his wife or his roommate?

"Ma'am?" The lawyer prompted impatiently.

"I... need time to think. I'll contact you again."

I hastily hung up and covered my face with both hands. When I lowered them, I looked like a pathetic creature in the mirror.

Three months of marriage, and I didn't even know my husband's basic physical condition. What a ridiculous situation I was in.

As evening fell, Alexander appeared at the bedroom door right on schedule.

He wore a deep blue silk robe, his hair still slightly damp from a recent shower. That perfect face showed no expression, like a robot executing a task.

Looking at him, I suddenly remembered the lawyer's questions and felt nauseated.

"You're not asleep yet?" He walked toward the bed, his tone as bland as asking about the weather.

I sat on the edge of the bed, spine straight, eyes cold: "I'm tired, Alexander."

"Hmm?" His steps stopped, brow furrowing slightly. I'd never said I was "tired" at this hour before.

"You can return to your study." My voice was calm as water but carried a chill of rejection. "I don't need any... services tonight."

The word dripped with heavy sarcasm as it left my lips.

Alexander froze. I could see the shock in his eyes—for the first time in three months, he'd lost that perfect control in front of me.

The air hung thick for several seconds. I could hear my own heartbeat and feel the tension radiating from him. Interesting. So Alexander Sterling could get nervous too.

"Isadora..." He started to say something, his voice actually carrying a trace of panic.

That voice almost made me want to soften. Almost.

"There's nothing to discuss." I turned my head away, no longer looking at him. "We're both tired, aren't we?"

Alexander stood there, his tall figure somewhat rigid in the moonlight. I watched him peripherally—he wanted to step forward, then back, ultimately doing nothing.

This hesitation looked so foreign on him, yet it gave me a strange sense of satisfaction.

After a long moment, he nodded, his voice hoarse: "Alright. Good night."

He turned toward the door, his retreating figure betraying unprecedented confusion and unease. Just as his hand touched the doorknob, he glanced back at me.

That look made my heart skip a beat. There was shock, confusion, and some complex emotions I couldn't decipher.

The door closed softly, leaving me alone sitting on the bed.

My hands trembled, not from fear, but from an unprecedented sense of clarity. For the first time in three months, I controlled the situation. For the first time, Alexander Sterling showed genuine emotion in front of me.

"So you can get nervous too," I whispered to the closed door.

But this discovery only made me more clearheaded.

If he cared, why torture me like this? If he didn't care, why panic when rejected?

I stood and walked to the vanity, looking at myself in the mirror. My gaze inadvertently swept over the drawer, and I froze—the Hermès scarf I'd clearly placed there yesterday was gone.

Whatever. Maybe the housekeeper took it for cleaning.

But something felt wrong. Lately, small items seemed to mysteriously disappear.