Chapter 3

The kitchen was empty, devoid of Roxanne's familiar, busy presence. Sebastian searched the rooms but couldn't find her. Pulling out his phone to call her, he was greeted by a barrage of transaction notifications. He had set his phone to silent to avoid distractions, but now his screen was flooded with messages. Transaction after transaction, his account was taking hit after hit. [Bank Statement] Your account ending in 0081 (secondary card): - November 29, 3:17 pm: 30,034 dollars - 3:26 pm: 55,889 dollars - 3:45 pm: 26,000 dollars - 4:00 pm: 78,800 dollars - 4:12 pm: 68,000 dollars And it went on—66,000 dollars… 111,230 dollars and more. Frowning deeply, he scrolled through the endless list, irritation flickering in his eyes. He dialed Roxanne's number immediately, but she didn't answer. His brows furrowed tighter. The money didn't matter. What bothered him more was her absence. She wasn't there, leaving a hollow, nagging feeling in his chest, accompanied by an inexplicable frustration. Loosening his collar, he tried to shake off the suffocating tension. He decided to focus on work instead, hoping to clear his mind. But stepping into the study, he was met with something he wasn't prepared for—a divorce agreement neatly placed on the desk, alongside the wedding ring Roxanne had worn faithfully for the last four years. His face darkened instantly. He called her again, his fingers gripping the phone tightly. But at that moment, Roxanne was at a bar with Vivian, drinking and dancing to her heart's content. The blaring music and her carefree laughter drowned out the insistent ringing of her phone. It wasn't until the next morning that Roxanne noticed the dozens of missed calls. Running her hand through her messy hair, she groaned, still feeling the effects of the previous night. She wasn't surprised—by now, Sebastian had probably seen the divorce papers. She called him back. He answered almost immediately, which was unexpected. Usually, he claimed to be too busy to answer her calls quickly—or even at all. "Where were you last night?" His voice was low, carrying a palpable undercurrent of tension. She raised an eyebrow. His tone came across as more of an interrogation than concern. Once, she would have been quick to soothe his moods, bending over backward to make him happy. But not this time. Her tone was indifferent. "I left the divorce agreement for you. If you don't have any objections, sign it." "Roxanne, cut it out. I'm hungry. Come home and make me breakfast." Her spree of spending last night had seemed to him like nothing more than a tantrum. After all, he knew she loved him. He was sure of it. He was so certain that he dismissed the divorce agreement entirely. He thought she was just acting out—letting off steam. "Did you not hear me? I said I want a divorce." Her voice was calm but resolute. "Are you serious?" His frustration boiled over. "Roxanne, you've never worked a day since graduating. How do you plan to survive without me?" "My survival isn't your concern. If you have even a shred of decency, you'll sign the agreement. I'm not asking for much—just half the assets. I've given you seven years of my youth. I think I've earned that." Sitting up in bed, she glanced around the room. It was a mess. A pair of black YSL heels had been tossed aside haphazardly. A white Chanel tweed jacket hung off the headboard, and her Burberry coat lay crumpled near the door. She glanced down at herself and found that she wasn't wearing anything. On the nightstand was a sticky note from Vivian. "Babe, you've got no tolerance for alcohol. Take it easy next time, okay? You were a mess. I helped you out of your clothes. Wash up when you wake." "Don't come crying to me later," Sebastian snapped before slamming the call to an abrupt end. Roxanne barely reacted. She sent him her current address with a curt message. "The terms of the divorce are clearly outlined. If you have no objections, sign it and send it back to me." In the kitchen, Sebastian stood near the empty table, his stomach growling. He couldn't cook and had grown accustomed to breakfast being ready every morning at seven sharp. It was part of his routine, and Roxanne had always been there to ensure it. His phone buzzed. He pulled it out and saw her message. After reading it, his frustration reached a boiling point. She was pushing her luck. There was no way she didn't still love him—she had known about Lexi for years but had always feigned ignorance. If she had truly wanted a divorce, she wouldn't have waited this long. This was just another one of her games, and he wasn't about to indulge her. Fueled by anger and pride, he stormed into the study, signed the divorce agreement without a second thought and called for a courier to deliver it to her. Meanwhile, Roxanne was finally starting to sober up. Stretching, she realized she couldn't remember how she had gotten back last night. She shuffled to the bathroom to shower, letting the warm water rinse away the remnants of her hangover. After drying off, she stood before the mirror and examined her hair. Yesterday, during a shopping spree with Vivian, they had gone for a whole body spa and visited a salon. On a whim, she had decided to cut her long hair. Her natural light brown locks now framed her face in soft, inward curls that highlighted her delicate features. The new look was clean and refreshing, contrasting sharply with her old, more innocent image. Sebastian had always loved her long hair. He used to say, "When your hair's all messy and draped over your shoulders, I just want to keep you in bed all day." But she liked the new her—a little sharper, a little bolder. The doorbell rang. Still wrapped in a robe, she opened the door. Standing there was a courier man. "Hi, are you Ms. Grayson?"