Chapter 2

Audrey's POV

I stayed up all night after seeing that Instagram post.

These five years of hellish nightmare had taught me one thing: any hysterical questioning would only end up as amusement for them and humiliation for myself.

The next afternoon, I went to a boutique affiliated with a high-end auction house.

When my father was still back home, he loved collecting crystal glassware.

Since I had decided to leave for good, I wanted to buy him a decent gift.

As I paused at the boutique entrance, a familiar black Maybach pulled up not far away.

The car door opened, and Julian stepped out, helping Stella down.

Stella looked pale, appearing frail and on the verge of collapsing even in the sunlight.

When she saw me, she first froze, then timidly hid behind Julian like a startled fawn.

Julian immediately pulled her close, then looked up at me, his eyes filled with displeasure and wariness.

"What are you doing here?"

I didn't answer, just quietly watched them.

Stella's voice was soft and gentle. "Julian, don't blame Audrey. She surely didn't mean to follow us."

Julian's face darkened even more.

"Audrey, I warned you, don't harass Stella again."

I finally spoke, my voice as calm as if I were talking to a stranger. "I'm just here to buy something."

I walked past them, trying to enter the store.

But Stella suddenly tugged at Julian's sleeve, pointing at the shopping catalog I had just picked up. "Audrey, what were you looking at?" she asked curiously.

Before I could answer, she took it upon herself to pick up the gift box I'd been eyeing from the display shelf-a vintage crystal whiskey decanter set.

"Wow, what beautiful crystal glasses." Stella's eyes lit up, then she seemed to remember something, looking at Julian, her voice laced with a hint of a playful plea. "Julian, I remember your father also likes whiskey. Shall we buy this for him?"

Julian's father, the man who'd passed his family business down to him, indeed enjoyed whiskey.

Julian looked at me, his tone brooking no argument. "Let Stella have this set."

I stared at him, unmoving, showing no intention of backing down.

Seeing this, Stella immediately pushed the decanter set back into my hands, her eyes instantly reddening. "I'm sorry, Audrey, I didn't know you liked it too. Julian, don't force her. We can just look for something else... it's all my fault."

The more "sensible" she acted, the more petty and unreasonable I appeared.

Julian directly snatched the gift box from my hands and put it back into Stella's arms.

"Keep it," he told Stella, then turned to me, his gaze cold. "Audrey, there are plenty of glasses like this. Go pick something else."

With that, he put his arm around Stella and walked away, leaving me with a resolute back.

That night, Julian actually came to my apartment unprompted.

He brought my favorite French dessert, and his tone was uncharacteristically gentle.

"Audrey, I'm sorry about what happened today."

He launched into that familiar, nauseating explanation. "As long as we're legally married, Stella will never be able to hold her head high around you. She always feels like a third party, and that's very bad for her recovery."

He paused, then laid out his plan. "Let's get a divorce. A legal one, but just on paper, just for show. Once Stella goes to Switzerland for treatment next month, we'll remarry immediately. I promise."

I lowered my head, looking at the exquisite, expensive dessert, saying nothing.

I was racking my brain for a good reason to suggest a divorce, and unexpectedly, he practically handed me the perfect escape route.

I was silent for a long time.

Long enough for Julian to start impatiently checking his watch.

Finally, I looked up at him, my face a mask of perfect compliance.

I said softly, "Okay."

"Whatever you say."