Chapter 2

Celine looked at Adam. Her voice was soft but unwavering. "Let's get a divorce, Adam. Do you like this birthday gift?"

Adam's expression remained indifferent. "Are you asking for a divorce because I didn't spend my birthday with you?"

"Carly's back, isn't she?" Celine asked.

At the mention of Carly, Adam sneered. He strode toward Celine. "Are you bothered by her?"

As the youngest business mogul in Mercity, Adam exuded power—a presence built on wealth, status, and influence. As he approached, Celine instinctively stepped back, her delicate back hitting the wall.

The world around her seemed to darken. Adam closed the distance, placing a hand against the wall beside her, trapping her between his chest and the wall.

He looked down, a mocking smile playing on his lips. "Everyone in Mercity knows I'm going to marry Carly. Didn't you know that when you schemed to become my wife? You didn't mind then, so why are you bothered now?"

Celine's face paled. Yes, Adam was supposed to marry Carly. If not for the accident, she never would have married him.

She would never forget the day he woke up. Seeing Celine beside him, the disappointment and coldness in his eyes were unmistakable. Since then, they'd slept in separate rooms; he'd never touched her. He loved Carly.

Celine had always known that, but…

She looked deeply into Adam's face. Slowly, it began to merge with the image of the youthful boy he once was. "Adam, do you really not remember me?" she thought. It seemed only she remained in the past.

Never mind. She would consider these three years a misguided love, fulfilled.

Pushing down the bitterness and pain, Celine said, "Adam, let's end this platonic marriage."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "Platonic?" His deep voice dripped with mockery. He cupped her chin, his thumb brushing, then pressing against her soft lips in an almost teasing motion. "So that's why you want a divorce? You want to have sex?"

Celine's face flushed crimson. That wasn't what she meant. His thumb, now pressing on her lips, rubbed with a malicious yet seductive force. She hadn't expected such flirtatiousness from such a refined man. He was actually playing with her lips.

Adam had never been this close to Celine before. She'd always hidden behind oversized black-framed glasses and plain clothes, making herself look older. But up close, he noticed her small face, delicate features, striking eyes—mesmerizing eyes. Her lips were soft, too. Where his finger pressed, the red faded momentarily, then returned with a slight bounce. They were tender, enticing. He wanted to kiss her.

Adam's eyes darkened. "I didn't expect such strong desires. Do you long for a man?"

A loud slap echoed in the villa. Celine had slapped him.

Adam's head jerked to the side. Celine's fingers trembled with anger. She'd been too humble, allowing her heart to be trampled. How dare he humiliate her?

"I know you've never let go of Carly," she said furiously. "I'll make it easier for you. I'll return the position of Mrs. Alvarez to her!"

Adam's expression froze, as if frost had fallen over his handsome face. He'd never been slapped—by anyone. He stared coldly. "Celine, you thought you could marry me when you wanted and divorce me when you felt like it? What do you take me for?"

"A plaything, of course," Celine sneered.

Adam couldn't believe it. Celine fought back the pain and lied, "You're a plaything I took from Carly. I'm tired of playing with you. I want to throw you away."

Adam's expression darkened. "Fine, Celine. You want a divorce? Alright. But don't come crawling back to me, begging to get back together!"

He stormed upstairs, slamming the door to his study. Celine seemed to lose all her strength, slowly sliding down the wall. She crouched on the carpet, wrapping her arms around herself. "I won't love you anymore, Adam," she swore silently.

The next morning, Sofia entered Adam's study. He sat at his desk, reviewing documents—a known workaholic.

"Mr. Alvarez," Sofia called.

Adam didn't look up. Sofia sensed his bad mood; the air felt frigid. She carefully placed a cup of coffee on his desk. "Mr. Alvarez, Mrs. Alvarez made this for you."

Adam's hand faltered. The cold expression softened slightly. Was Celine trying to make peace? To be fair, she was a good wife: she cooked to his preferences, hand-washed his clothes, and attended to every detail of his daily life.

He picked up the cup and took a sip. Celine definitely made this; it was exactly how he liked it. Still, he was angry. She'd slapped him, and that wouldn't be easily soothed. A cup of coffee wouldn't fix this.

He asked, "Did Celine realize her mistake?"

Sofia looked at him strangely. "Mrs. Alvarez has left."

Adam froze, his eyes snapping to Sofia's. She produced something. "She left with her suitcase, Mr. Alvarez. She asked me to give you this before she left."

Adam took the paper. "Divorce Agreement" jumped out at him. He'd thought she was trying to make peace.

Sofia hesitated. "Mrs. Alvarez said you should finish the coffee and sign the papers as soon as possible."

Adam glared at the coffee. "Throw it out! All of it!"

Sofia, puzzled (he'd seemed to enjoy it earlier), quickly grabbed the coffee and left.

Adam's face darkened. He scanned the agreement. Celine agreed to leave with nothing—no alimony, no property. He sneered. She had nerve. She didn't want a dime from him. What could a country girl expect to live on without money?

He remembered how, three years ago, she'd done everything to become his wife. Wasn't it all about the money?

Then his gaze fell on Celine's neatly handwritten reason for divorce: "The husband's health does not allow him to fulfill his marital duties."

Adam was speechless. His face flushed with rage. This damned woman! He grabbed his phone and dialed Celine's number. The phone rang; her clear, calm voice answered. "Hello?"