Chapter 1

I found a strand of white dog hair in the car right after Julian and I had sex in the back seat.

Julian Vance was a notorious neat freak. He never allowed any pets in his car.

I remembered the night Sugar, my Alaskan Malamute, was dying. I had knelt on the cold floor, begging Julian to drive her to the vet, but he didn't even blink. He refused.

Yet right now, that soft, white strand of hair on the passenger seat was glaringly obvious. It felt like a silent, mocking slap in the face.

He didn't hate dogs. He just hated my dog.

Right then and there, I asked Julian for a divorce.

He spared a bored glance at the hair in my hand, his voice dripping with impatience.

"You're throwing a tantrum and asking for a divorce over this?"

I looked at him calmly and nodded.

"Yes. Over exactly this."

"Go sit in the front," Julian said, adjusting his collar. His tone was perfectly businesslike.

But the dark hickeys covering his neck told a completely different story about the passion we had just shared. The back seat was still a total mess.

I fastened the last button of my shirt, only to realize my dress had been completely ripped when I reached for it.

Julian glanced at me, draped his suit jacket over my shoulders, then got out of the car to carry me to the passenger seat.

He took his jacket back and handed me a plush pink blanket. I looked up, confused.

"Since when do you keep stuff like this in your car?"

And by the look of it, it was definitely meant for a girl.

Julian’s hand paused on the steering wheel for a split second, but his voice remained smooth. "I figured it would come in handy sooner or later, so I bought it."

I stared at the blanket in my lap, freezing. There was a clump of dog hair on it.

Julian had never let Sugar near his car. When Sugar was on the verge of death that midnight, I had begged him on my knees, crying, but he wouldn't budge.

But now, this dog hair was resting peacefully on his expensive leather seat.

"Julian, did you have someone else's dog in your car?" I clenched my fist around the dog hair, holding back my tears.

Julian glanced at me sideways, completely unfazed. "Yeah. A friend’s dog."

His casual answer sent a sharp, stabbing pain through my chest.

He didn't hate dogs. He just hated my dog. And this blanket was bought for someone else, too.

My nails dug deep into my palms. My voice shook. "Julian, let's get a divorce."

Julian slammed on the brakes. He looked at the dog hair in my hand with sheer annoyance. "Over this?"

I nodded, tears finally slipping down my cheeks. "Yes. Over this."

"Chloe, stop making a scene." Julian snatched the dog hair from my hand and tossed it out the window.

In the past, if he ever accidentally touched Sugar's hair, he would spend hours in the shower out of disgust.

Yet now, he touched that dog hair so naturally. A friend? They must be incredibly close.

Julian started the car again and drove us home. The moment we walked through the door, Sugar rushed over to greet me. But when she saw Julian walking in behind me, she cowered and shrank back against my legs.

She was a good girl. She never went near Julian.

She knew Julian hated her.

My mind was consumed by the blanket and the dog hair. I followed Julian toward our bedroom, but he slammed the door shut right in front of me.

I couldn't stop in time. My nose collided hard with the heavy wood.

Nosebleed immediately gushed out. The pain was so intense that tears welled up in my eyes.

From inside the room, Julian’s cold voice drifted out. "I told you, you have to take a shower after touching that dog before you can come in."

With blood smeared all over my face, I washed myself up in the guest bathroom. The pain of his double standards cut deeper than the physical blow.

When I finally walked into the bedroom, Julian was on a Zoom meeting. He glanced at me, his brows furrowing slightly.

"Let's wrap up today's meeting here."

"But Mr. Vance, this is urgent—" Before his employee could finish, Julian shut his laptop.

He stood up and walked toward me. His tall figure cast a long shadow over me, blocking out the light.

He reached out to touch me, but I instinctively flinched away.

"I'm sorry." Julian's hand froze in mid-air. He lowered his eyes, looking genuinely apologetic.

I walked past him and lay down on the bed, the image of the dog hair in his car playing on a loop in my head.

After a long silence, the other side of the bed dipped. "The bakery you like just released some new pastries. I'll take you there tomorrow if you're free, okay?"

I knew this was his way of offering an olive branch. But I didn't want to talk to him.