Chapter 10

Genevieve felt like crawling into a hole and hiding in it. Forcing a nervous smile, she turned to Bernard. "Could you… tell him I'm asleep?" He responded kindly, "The call is on speaker. Mr. Burtman can hear you." She felt embarrassed as she took the phone reluctantly. "H-Hello?" "Aren't you asleep?" The man's cold, restrained voice carried the weight of an impending storm. Her heart tightened. "I just woke up," she replied awkwardly. "Heh. I'm outside the courthouse. Where are you?" "I…" "You have ten minutes to show up, or I'll kill you!" he said lightly, almost jokingly, but Genevieve felt a chill run down her spine. She gritted her teeth and said with difficulty, "Sorry, I... I can't make it." "You can't make it? The only people who can't come are those without legs." The underlying threat was clear. If she didn't go, she might very well lose her legs. His voice was like the devil's, icy and dangerous, seeping through the phone. Sweat beaded on her palms. Summoning her courage, she stammered, "There's been an… issue. Maybe you should come back first." "Speak clearly!" "We can't get a divorce right now." "What did you just say?" His tone turned razor-sharp. Genevieve shut her eyes tightly and repeated, "I said we can't get a divorce yet." "Alright, Genevieve. Just you wait!" The call ended abruptly. She slumped onto the couch, feeling drained. He probably thought she was deliberately toying with him now. He wouldn't let her off easily. Suddenly, the door was kicked open with a loud bang. Before she could react, Tristan stormed in, exuding fury. He grabbed her by the collar, his handsome face smiling coldly, but his eyes glinted with a chilling frost. "How dare you mess with me?" Genevieve shook her head. "I'm not messing with you. Just take a look at this first." Tristan, however, swatted away the agreement she handed him with a look of disdain. "Stop playing games with me. I was wondering how you would be willing to divorce, but it turns out it's just a tactic to lure me in. Genevieve, you're disgusting!" His face twisted in disgust, looking at her with utter contempt. "Let me be clear. This marriage ends whether you want it to or not!" "Enough!" Genevieve snapped, summoning a courage she didn't know she had. "Who says I don't want a divorce? I want it more than anyone!" His lips curled into a mocking sneer. She forcefully pried his hand off her and held up the agreement. "If you're so capable, solve this first. After that, we'll get divorced whenever you want." Tristan finally glanced at the document. As he skimmed its contents, his brow furrowed deeply. Soon, his expression turned to scorn and ridicule. "Heh. You think a mere agreement can bind me?" With that, he tore it into shreds in front of her. "I underestimated your schemes. You hope to have my child and use it against me? Dream on!" She stared at him with a hollow gaze. At that moment, she knew she could never fall for him. Unbeknownst to them, Jennifer stood at the doorway, her calm gaze sweeping over the shredded paper. "That was just a copy. The original, signed and sealed, is with my lawyer. It's legally binding. "According to the agreement, this marriage can only end if Genevieve gives birth to your child. So, if you're in such a hurry to divorce, hurry up and give me a great-grandchild." The hostility around Tristan intensified. Turning to Genevieve, he said bitterly, "You all really know how to play your cards, even targeting my grandmother." "It wasn't Genevieve. This was my idea alone," Jennifer said. "Grandma, you don't know how ugly human nature can be. The day she saved you, she probably had her own hidden agenda." Genevieve's hands clenched tightly at her sides, her body trembling from suppressed anger and humiliation. He cast her a cold glance, his lips curling disdainfully. "You're trying to have my child to control me? Dream on!" With those words, he stormed out, radiating anger. She stood motionless with her eyes red-rimmed, but she refused to cry. She bit her lip tightly, holding herself together. Jennifer approached and gently patted her back. "You two just need time to understand each other. Once you do, he'll change. He is stubborn, but when he loves someone, he loves her deeply. You're such a good woman. I believe he'll come to treasure you." Genevieve remained silent. She thought Jennifer was too optimistic. There was no way Tristan would ever like her. Later that evening, Bernard led her to a small two-story villa. "This will be your residence, Mrs. Burtman," he said. The villa was separate from the main house, surrounded by greenery and peaceful. It was quiet, and he assured her no staff would disturb her unless specifically instructed. This suited Genevieve perfectly—she loved tranquility. Genevieve felt completely at ease moving into the small villa because it meant no longer having to live under the same roof as that tyrant, Tristan. Her new bedroom was minimalist in black, white, and gray—styles she surprisingly enjoyed. The wardrobe was filled with clothes, and the bathroom was stocked with new toiletries prepared under Jennifer's orders. She decided she would live quietly here. Perhaps one day, Jennifer might change her mind and nullify the agreement. At the thought of this, her mood lightened. … Meanwhile, Tristan had gone to Nightfall. Herman, flanked by two women, raised an eyebrow at the sulking man across from him. "I heard you got married." Tristan shot a fierce glare at Ethan beside him. Ethan rubbed his nose and quickly retreated to a corner. "Tsk! I can't imagine what kind of woman would drive you to plunge. Bring her out sometime, and let us meet her." "Get lost," Tristan snapped. "Haha! Don't tell me you've fallen for her already?" Tristan stood abruptly, grabbing his jacket. "I'm leaving." "Going home so early to keep your wife company? Tsk tsk. You're truly henpecked. What a pity. Now that you're married, there won't be many chances to hang out anymore. "Shut it," Tristan snapped, snatching Herman's wine glass and smirking. "You're one to talk. If it weren't for what happened back then, you'd have tied the knot before me." Herman's amused grin faded as he watched Tristan leave. After a long moment, he shoved the women beside him away, his expression darkening. "Scram!" Tristan returned home, slightly tipsy. The alcohol, which hadn't hit earlier, now made his head throb and soured his mood further. Loosening the buttons on his shirt, he poured himself a glass of water and headed upstairs. As he entered the master bedroom, he heard running water. He narrowed his eyes, and he strode toward the bathroom. "Ah!"