Colton Stevens approached the table impatiently, his frustration palpable. "I've filed for divorce," he announced. "Four million should give you a comfortable life."

Allison Clarke's face froze. Her nails dug painfully into her palm as she fought to maintain her composure. "Today is our third wedding anniversary," she whispered. "Can't we at least finish this meal?"

She smelled faintly of cooking oil and smoke; her hair was pulled back in a simple black clip, a few loose strands framing her face. This day was supposed to be different. She'd spent hours preparing a celebratory feast of their favorite dishes. Instead of gratitude, she received divorce papers.

Colton sneered, his eyes cold and distant. "Even if we finished this meal, I'll never love you. Besides, Melany's back. She's proud and won't tolerate this." A flicker of warmth crossed his face at the mention of Melany Johnson—a warmth Allison had never received, despite her years of devotion. She'd cared for his parents, sacrificed everything, yet earned only a passing glance. Melany, who'd left him three years ago, breaking off their engagement, held his heart. Now, with a simple word, she'd secured his return and Allison's dismissal.

Allison gripped the table's edge. "Does your grandfather know?"

Colton laughed, a high-pitched, mocking sound. "Don't think you can hide behind Grandpa. He's in the hospital, and this would be too stressful. My parents are fine with the divorce; in fact, Melany met with them today." A chill ran through Allison.

A renowned perfumer, hacker, and weapons designer—sought after by world leaders—she'd buried her brilliance for three years, becoming the perfect housewife. Recently, she'd secured a rare opportunity with Cobweb, a highly secretive intelligence network, to help the Stevens family close a crucial deal. Now, it all felt like a cruel joke.

"So, Melany is at your parents' house?" Allison asked, her voice breaking.

"Naturally," Colton smiled, his features softening at the thought of Melany. "They just had dinner. Melany always gets along well with them. They've been praising her all night."

"And you all knew I was coming back," Allison muttered, disbelief thick in her voice, "but you left me in the dark." Her eyes glittered with betrayal. Thoughtful and understanding how ridiculous. Her parents often made the same comments about her.

Colton looked at her impatiently. "It wasn't on purpose. The butler forgot to mention it. Don't create drama."

He looked at her again, his expression shifting to disdain. Allison had always been delicate, beautiful—but none of that mattered. She was boring, stifling. The perfect housewife, yes—but he was tired of her predictable routine.

"And whether you accept it or not, you're leaving tonight," Colton said, his tone softening slightly. "You can move into Starfish Villas. It's yours."

I had researched Allison. She came from humble beginnings, left school early, and hadn't seen much of the world. If not for saving her grandfather's life, she wouldn't have married into the Stevens family. Offering the villa seemed generous, but Allison showed no gratitude, offering only a thin, cold smile. She didn't care about the villa or the money. What hurt was the betrayal.

Colton sighed. "The upstairs room was always yours. Melany has nowhere else to stay, so I told her she could move in. If you stay, she'll be uncomfortable."

His frustration grew at her silence. "Don't push her. You have to know when enough is enough." He checked his watch. "Now that I've filed for divorce, we'll be in court in a few days. You better hire a lawyer…"

"I know what I have to do," Allison interrupted, her voice laced with disgust. A childhood memory flashed—a boy, Colton Stevens, saving her life. Now, he was forcing her out.

"I'll go," she said, her voice firm. "From now on, we don't owe each other anything."

Colton sighed in relief.

As if on cue, the housekeeper, Kaelyn Thorpe, appeared at the top of the stairs with a suitcase. "Sir, Mrs. Clarke's parents called; she has to leave immediately, so I packed her things… Oh, no!" She screamed, feigning a twisted ankle. Allison's suitcase tumbled down the stairs, spilling its contents.