"Breaking news: famous dancer Isabelle Hartley was spotted by the paparazzi entering and leaving a hotel with her boyfriend. They looked very close, and people are already guessing the relationship has gone public!"

The moment Serena Whitmore heard it, she looked up at the TV. Just one glance was enough. She knew exactly who the man in the photo was, even from the back.

Ethan Blackwell.

Her husband.

"Tss..." She lowered her eyes and looked at the finger she had just nicked with the knife, then slowly brought it to her lips.

Other people might not be able to tell, but Serena could.

How could she not?

He was the man she had quietly loved since she was young. There was no way she would mistake him.

No wonder she had been unable to reach him these past few days.

So that was it.

He must have been spending those days happy and carefree with Isabelle, while she had been stuck here, terrified and sleepless because her grandfather's condition had taken a turn for the worse again.

Right then, the hospital room door was pushed open.

She turned her head at once.

It was Ethan, whom she had not seen in half a month.

For a second, she just froze, not even knowing what kind of expression she was supposed to make.

After glancing at her once, Ethan walked in. His gaze passed over her and settled calmly on the unconscious old man in the bed. His voice was flat, with no extra warmth in it.

"I've already contacted specialists from overseas. They'll arrive tomorrow."

Serena lowered her eyes and softly said, "Thank you."

After that, she fell silent.

Her silence, however, seemed to catch Ethan off guard. Only then did his eyes properly rest on her.

At that moment, the voice from the TV drifted through the room again, repeating the entertainment news.

Ethan didn't even look up.

He had already seen it on the way here, so he only lifted a brow slightly, like it was nothing.

Then he raised a hand and cupped her lowered face, making her look up. His dark eyes fixed on her delicate, beautiful features without blinking.

"You're mad?"

Serena's pupils trembled faintly.

She had barely slept these last few days. She had lost weight, and her face was pale enough to look almost translucent. Forced to tilt her head back like this, she seemed especially fragile, almost pitiful.

Her red lips parted a little.

She wanted to ask, "Do I even have the right to be?"

But in the end, she swallowed the words back down.

"No..."

Ethan looked at her weak, soft appearance, and his eyes darkened a shade.

He bent slightly, lifted her chin higher, and slowly rubbed the smooth skin there with his thumb, almost toying with her. His tone was light, but there was a faint hint of mockery in it.

"Then who are you making that face for, hmm?"

Serena knew him too well.

Well enough to know that this meant he was unhappy.

That was right—they’d been married for three years.

For all three of those years, Serena Whitmore had played the role of Mrs. Blackwell with extreme care. Careful with every word, gentle, decent, considerate, and always going along with Ethan Blackwell. She had never really crossed him, not once.

So, in his eyes, this Mrs. Blackwell of his had been acceptable enough.

That was probably why this marriage had managed to drag on for three years.

Ethan Blackwell looked at the faint trace of red on her lips. Against her pale skin, it stood out way too much, almost harsh. His gaze darkened little by little, turning deeper, heavier.

His thumb brushed over her lip slowly, rubbing it with a force that wasn’t exactly gentle.

Serena’s breathing hitched. Her lashes trembled as she looked up at him, only to meet a gaze so dark and unreadable it made her heart tighten.

She knew that look.

It was his signal. He wanted her.

She only hesitated for a moment before reaching up on her own and wrapping her arms around his neck. Then she closed her eyes softly and offered her lips to him first.

Ethan narrowed his eyes, pulled her in by the waist, and drew her onto his lap. One hand pressed against the back of her head, the other locked around her slim waist.

His kiss was just like him.

Overbearing. No room to breathe.

It didn’t take long before Serena was short of breath, her clothes rumpled, her whole body thrown into a mess. When she felt his hand slide lower, she had no choice but to grab his wrist, her voice unsteady, breath broken.

“Not here… okay?”

Ethan understood what she was worried about. He didn’t have that kind of weird kink either, so without wasting another second, he lifted her straight into his arms and carried her into the next hospital room.

An hour later, Serena sat against the bed, clutching the sheet to her chest, watching the man walk out of the bathroom.

His clothes were only slightly wrinkled. His face was still cold, handsome, distant—like the man who had just lost control and taken her hard wasn’t him at all.

And her?

She was a complete mess. No filter, no dignity, nothing left neat about her.

Ethan adjusted his cuffs as he looked at her. “Going back?”

Serena nodded, but she hadn’t forgotten what really mattered. “Tingchen, there’s something I want to talk to you about…”

Before she could finish, his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen and answered. But only a few seconds later, his expression changed.

The next second, he hung up and turned to leave.

Serena could almost guess who had called.

That was why he wouldn’t even stay to hear the rest of her sentence before rushing off.

"My husband, I..."

Ethan Blackwell had already pulled the hospital room door open. Hearing her voice, he still didn’t turn around, not even once. He only left her with one cold sentence.

"I’ll have someone send the check over later."

Serena Whitmore didn’t say another word to stop him. She could only stand there and watch him walk away.

It wasn’t until an hour later that his assistant finally showed up. He handed her a check and said politely, "Mrs. Blackwell, this is the check you asked for."

Serena stared at that thin piece of paper, but her arm felt so heavy it was like it weighed a thousand pounds.

They were husband and wife, legally married, no question about it. And yet after sleeping with her, he had someone deliver her a check.

At that exact moment, the TV was also airing breaking news.

Isabelle Hartley’s boyfriend had been fully exposed. It was none other than Ethan Blackwell, president of Blackwell Group.

After all, Ethan Blackwell had personally shown up at the airport and taken her away from the swarm of reporters.

Assistant Lin had obviously heard it too. He couldn’t help glancing at this so-called Mrs. Blackwell one extra time.

"Mrs. Blackwell, this check..."

Serena tugged at the corner of her lips, lifted her eyes to look at him, and in the end still took it.

"I feel like I’m accepting payment for sex."

Assistant Lin: "..."

How was he even supposed to answer that?

No matter how unloved she was, she was still Mrs. Blackwell.

He gave an awkward cough. "Mrs. Blackwell, you must be joking. You’re Mr. Blackwell’s lawful wife."

"Mrs. Blackwell?" Serena gave a faint laugh. "Who even knows that I am?"

To avoid making things even more awkward, Assistant Lin could only mumble some excuse and slip away fast.

Serena Whitmore clenched the check in her hand and made a call.

"Sis, I got the money."

The person on the other end went quiet for a few seconds before finally speaking. "Sera..."

"Yeah?"

This time, the voice on the other side turned more serious. "If you feel wronged, if you really can't keep doing this anymore, you can leave him. Whatever you decide, I'll back you up."

The moment she heard that, Serena felt her nose sting. "Okay. I'll remember that."

The old man's surgery went well. Not wanting her grandfather to worry, Serena had no choice but to try reaching out to Ethan Blackwell again.

Most of the time, she couldn't get through to him at all.

But this time, the call connected...

"What is it?"

Serena looked at her grandfather lying in the hospital bed, smiling warmly at her. She softened her voice and said, "Grandpa's awake. Do you have time to come by the hospital?"

"Ah-Chen, look at this one. Do you think it's pretty?"

Serena stopped talking at once. A second later, the call was cut off. She tightened her grip on the phone so hard her fingers went pale.

"What is it, Sera? Is Ethan too busy?"

Serena shook her head, stepped forward, and gently took the old man's dry, withered hand in hers.

"He does have time. He said he'll come see you tomorrow."

After coaxing her grandfather to sleep, Serena didn't have the courage to call Ethan again. She only sent him a text, hoping he could spare some time to come over the next day.

But in the end, she was still disappointed. She waited from daylight until nightfall, and Ethan never showed up.

Faced with her grandfather's caring, worried gaze, Serena was afraid she would lose it and start crying right there, so she could only find an excuse and leave the room.

She had already begged him that hard. Even if he could only spare a few minutes, that would’ve been enough. But he still didn’t come.

Not long after, Serena Whitmore heard the crisp click of high heels drawing closer. She slowly lifted her head and looked over.

Isabelle Hartley was wearing a bright red dress, her softly curled long hair falling over her shoulders. She moved with that effortless, swaying elegance as she walked straight toward Serena.

Serena’s fingers tightened around her phone.

She had always known Isabelle existed.

And maybe Isabelle had always known about her too.

But this was the first time they had ever met face-to-face.

Why was she here at the hospital?

Isabelle stopped in front of Serena and extended a hand, perfectly poised. "Ms. Whitmore, hello. I’m Isabelle Hartley. I’m guessing you know who I am, right?"

Serena looked at the provocative smile on her face and almost wanted to laugh.

Almost.

But she couldn’t.

What even was this?

Seeing Serena stay still, Isabelle didn’t look embarrassed in the slightest. She simply gave her a slow once-over, then let out a soft little laugh.

"Ethan’s busy, so I came on his behalf to visit Grandpa Blackwell."

The words hit Serena like a slap.

He had actually sent Isabelle to see her grandfather?

Serena’s face turned pale. She shut her eyes for a second, bitterness rising in her throat. "There’s no need. Please leave."

Isabelle only curled her lips a little more. "Since that’s the case, I’ll just be direct. The person Ethan loves is me. Marrying you was never what he wanted. I just hope you can be clear about where you stand and stop interfering with us all the time, okay?"

Serena’s chest tightened so hard she almost couldn’t breathe. Before she could even respond, an old, trembling voice suddenly came from the doorway of the hospital room.

"Sera... is what she said true?"

Serena’s expression changed instantly. She spun around.

"Grandpa, no—"

But Grandpa Whitmore was too overwhelmed. His emotions surged, and he collapsed on the spot.

"Grandpa!"

Serena Whitmore watched the medical staff rush her grandfather into the emergency room. She stood there frozen, terrified, tears falling nonstop.

She didn’t even dare think about it. If he really left her too... what was she supposed to do?

Three years ago, that car accident had already taken her parents. She couldn’t lose another family member. She just couldn’t.

She turned her head and looked at the woman who was clearly flustered. She strode over, raised her hand, and aimed a slap at her face—only to be stopped halfway.

Not only that, she was shoved so hard she fell straight to the floor.

"Ethan!"

Serena looked up and saw her husband shielding another woman. Just one glance was enough. She looked away at once, like even one more second would sting.

Was there anyone more ridiculous than her?

When Ethan Blackwell arrived, he had happened to catch that exact scene. Instinctively, he stepped forward to stop it, but he hadn’t expected Serena to be knocked down by his push.

Seeing her on the ground, face white as paper, eyes red, fragile like she might break at the slightest touch, his brows tightened a little. He was just about to move when the woman beside him leaned into him first.

"Ethan, I believe Ms. Whitmore didn’t mean it. Don’t be mad."

Serena kept her head lowered the whole time. Then suddenly, she turned and glanced at the light above the emergency room doors before pushing herself up from the floor.

"No. I did mean it."

Isabelle Hartley pressed down the smile tugging at the corner of her lips, while Ethan stared at Serena with a cold, shadowed gaze.

Serena let out a self-mocking laugh. She lifted a hand and pointed at her own chest. "Wasn’t I obedient enough? Your pet dog, the one you raised—wasn’t that enough for you?"

Ethan’s face darkened instantly, his voice icy enough to cut. "Do you even know what you’re saying?"

Serena looked at the man she had loved for so long, so deeply. That burning love from the beginning had long since been worn down into numbness.

She was really in pain now. Really exhausted. She couldn’t keep holding on.

The fist she had clenched tight slowly loosened.

"I’m saying I want a divorce."