Chapter 2

Holden's response caught me off guard.

I gritted my teeth and, determined to force him into divorce, typed out two more lines on the anonymous number.

[Mr. Sterling, Silas has told me many times he doesn't love you.]

[You don't love him either. It's just a business marriage between you two. Wouldn't it be better to set each other free?]

After I sent the message, there was no response for a long time.

The villa was so quiet I could only hear the ticking of the wall clock.

I sat on the sofa until my whole body went stiff. It wasn't until late at night that I dragged my heavy feet back to the bedroom.

I don't know how much time passed before the mattress beside me sank slightly.

Holden lay down next to me.

He didn't turn on the light. In the darkness there was only steady breathing, slowly drawing closer to me.

I kept my eyes closed, pretending to sleep, but my heart was about to burst.

Holden didn't do what he usually did—just lie down and stay still.

But I could feel his gaze falling on my face, on my neck, lingering for a long time without moving away.

The air thickened bit by bit. Holden's gaze seemed to pierce right through me.

Suddenly, a hand with a cool temperature touched my neck very lightly.

The moment his fingertip brushed those red marks I'd pinched onto myself, Holden's movement stopped abruptly.

I stayed rigid, pretending to be asleep, but my ears were already burning.

Then Holden moved his hand away and leaned down close to me, his scent enveloping me.

The next second, his lips landed extremely lightly on those red marks on my neck.

Holden's lips touched my skin only briefly, yet they were scorching hot.

In the darkness he murmured to himself, his tone dripping with murderous intent.

"Whoever dared to leave marks on you."

"I'll cut off his hands."

My back went rigid instantly. I didn't dare let my breathing pattern falter.

My marriage with Holden was a complete business arrangement.

For five years we'd shared the same bed with different dreams. In outsiders' eyes, I was the glamorous partner of Holden Sterling.

But only I knew our marriage was as empty as a blank sheet of paper.

I was sick of his extreme coldness toward me these five years, sick of playing the loving couple in public while being strangers in private.

I didn't want to be bound by this marriage in name only anymore.

I had to make him thoroughly disgusted with me.

So the next day, I sent him even more suggestive photos.

I deliberately chose more provocative angles.

The neckline pulled even lower. I lay on my side on the bed, the blanket barely covering my waist and abdomen, with bruises I'd pinched onto my sides.

I made my eyes deliberately hazy, as if I'd just experienced intimacy.

No one else, no props—just my expression and those self-inflicted bruises were enough to let imaginations run wild.

I expressionlessly pressed send.

The anonymous number's message shot toward Holden once again.

[Silas was very good today too.]

[Mr. Sterling, it doesn't matter if you don't divorce. I can be his lover.]

After sending it, I tossed my phone aside and sat in the living room, but my heart was pounding uncontrollably.