Chapter 1

The window in the master bedroom was slightly ajar. The pitter-patter of rain outside mixed with the intimate sounds from the bed. Under the warm yellow glow of the bedside lamp, the man's side profile was both handsome and cold, his deep gaze carrying a hunger that seemed ready to devour the woman in his arms. Yasmin Whitmore's stunning face was flushed with a mesmerizing shade of red. "Caleb…" He held her tightly as if she were a treasure. The tenderness in his embrace made Yasmin entertain an absurd hope. Could he, even if just a little, have feelings for her? Suddenly, a phone rang, shattering the passionate atmosphere in the room. From the corner of her eye, Yasmin caught sight of the caller ID, and her body tensed. She turned to look directly at the screen—Veronica Whitmore! Caleb Grant answered the call. Whatever was said on the other end made Caleb lose all passion and interest. He immediately returned to his usual calm self. "I'll be right there," he said. Watching him getting dressed swiftly, Yasmin blurted out before she could stop herself, "You're leaving?" She wanted to make him stay. "Yeah." Caleb grabbed his phone and walked out, not sparing her another glance. She was summoned at will and discarded just as easily. Lying there, exposed, Yasmin suddenly felt like nothing more than a prostitute. The realization stabbed at her like a blade to her heart. It was painful and humiliating. She pulled the silk blanket over herself. Her voice was soft and hoarse yet laced with lingering defiance as she said, "Caleb, you're just going to leave like this? Aren't you afraid Veronica might notice my scent on you and get jealous?" Caleb paused at the door. When he turned around, he noticed Yasmin's gaze lingering on his figure. Under the light, his chiseled features exuded an air of indifference and authority. It was as if the one engaged in passionate activities just moments ago was a completely different person. Yasmin held his stare, her delicate face teasing and provocative, her slight smile dripping with mockery. "Yasmin, Veronica's hand injury is acting up again. Years ago, multiple tendons and nerves in her palm were severed. She almost lost the use of her hand." Caleb's tone was cold and detached. "You were the one who did that to her." Beneath the covers, Yasmin's fingers clenched into fists as her long lashes trembled. The forced smile on her face faded. "Caleb, you're not a doctor. What can you even do? And don't you think it's inappropriate for your sister-in-law to call you in the middle of the night and pull you away from your own wife's bed?" Caleb turned back, closing the distance between them in a few strides. Bending down, he grasped her chin, his thumb absently brushing over her skin. "Yasmin, if you still want me, I'll make it up to you when I get back. Don't make a fuss, alright?" "I think you're filthy!" Yasmin slapped his hand away, turning her head in disgust. Despite hearing her call him filthy, Caleb didn't get angry. Instead, his lips curled slightly as if he were amused. "Caleb!" Yasmin took a deep breath, deciding to take a gamble. "What if I say I want you to stay tonight and—" Before she could finish, he cut her off, "Yasmin, you don't have that right." Her lashes trembled as she lifted her chin, forcing herself to meet his icy gaze. "I'm your wife! Doesn't that give me the right?" Caleb let out a low chuckle as if he had just heard a ridiculous joke. The polite mask of a gentleman slipped away as he said, "Yasmin, do you need me to remind you how you became my wife in the first place?" … The lingering scent of Caleb in the master bedroom suffocated Yasmin. Her heart ached with a dull and persistent pain. An hour later, Yasmin saw Veronica's latest post on Twitter. "Being accompanied by someone who loves you even during the smallest pains—nothing is more precious than this." Attached was a photo of a man standing by a window, his silhouette tall and commanding, his broad shoulders and narrow waist exuding an irresistible allure. Though his face wasn't visible, Yasmin recognized him immediately. It was her husband—Caleb. She felt a dull ache in her heart, yet at the same time, she found the situation ironically amusing. Three years ago, she was set up and made to spend a night with Caleb. When the elders of the Grant family found out, they forced him to marry her to preserve their reputation. She had eagerly agreed, desperate to escape the control of the Whitmore family. Why eagerly? Because Caleb was the man she had secretly loved for years. … The next afternoon, Caleb returned, his sharp features lined with exhaustion from a sleepless night. Yasmin lounged on the couch, flipping through a thin stack of documents. She was dressed casually in a silk nightgown, the delicate straps revealing her smooth, fair skin adorned with faint red marks. Her bare feet rested against the cool gray floor, a sight enough to make anyone's breath hitch. Caleb was about to tell her to put on shoes when she suddenly looked up at him. He was the perfect embodiment of elite power—strikingly handsome and tall, a man of rigid discipline and noble lineage… He was the one every socialite in Dunville longed to marry. "Back so soon? So, Veronica's injury wasn't that serious, was it?" Yasmin hugged her knees, resting her chin against them. Caleb didn't respond. Clearly, he had no intention of discussing Veronica's matter with Yasmin. "Caleb." Her voice was soft yet clear, her bright eyes pure. "Do you love me, even just a little?" For a moment, surprise flickered in his gaze, but it was quickly masked by his usual indifference. "What kind of question is that?" His tone suggested it was a foolish question. Yasmin spread her hands with a feigned casualness. "I knew it. You don't love me." He had never loved her. Yasmin continued, "Caleb, let's get a divorce." Three years of marriage had not changed how Caleb felt about her. If that was the case, then why should she keep forcing it? Caleb's hand had just touched her foot, which felt cold. Hearing those words, he froze momentarily. His somewhat warm expression immediately turned icy, and the air in the room seemed to have dropped several degrees. He lifted his gaze, his eyes as dark as a stormy night while his voice was even colder. "What did you just say?" The sheer pressure of his presence made Yasmin instinctively pull her foot back. Before she could, his grip tightened around her delicate ankle. His warmth clashed against her icy skin, making her ears burn with an involuntary blush. She forced a scowl on her exquisite face. "Let go." Caleb didn't move, his grip only tightening. "Yasmin, be a good wife and stop causing trouble." Causing trouble? She almost laughed. If she had really wanted to cause trouble, she would've fought tooth and nail last night to keep him from leaving. She wouldn't have given Veronica the chance to flaunt her victory. Without hesitation, Yasmin pulled out the prepared divorce papers and handed them to him. "Let's divorce. I'm done."