Everyone in our circle knew I was absolutely obsessed with Damon. And he, in turn, gave me what seemed like a perfect marriage. For three years, he showered me with lavish gifts, never once being stingy, and his life was pristine, without a single whisper of scandal. I truly believed I had finally melted Damon, this impenetrable ice king. Until I saw him with my own eyes – the man who was meticulously neat, taking off his jacket to shield another woman, holding her close in his arms. That’s when I understood. He wasn’t born cold and detached. He simply reserved all his warmth and passion for a woman named Willow. **Chapter 1** **Chloe’s pov** It was my third wedding anniversary with Damon, and I was heading to the club with a cake and gifts to celebrate his birthday. But just outside the VIP room, I overheard a game of truth or dare that revolved around me. “…Chloe is so good to him, truly treating him like he’s made of fragile glass, or fearing he’d melt if she held him too close.” “Good? Oh, she’s good alright. Obedient, understanding, and most importantly, utterly devoted to Damon. But it’s just not the same.” My hand, holding the cake, froze mid-air. I had begged a renowned French pastry chef to recreate the one cake he’d ever praised. The gift I’d prepared for him was a rare antique, one I’d waited three hours at an auction to win. I’d planned to give him a perfect surprise. Instead, hearing those words, a bitter ache twisted in my heart. “You guys never saw Damon and Willow together back then. *That* was living. After Willow left, he was a wreck. If it weren’t for the alliance with the Chen family later, and Chloe being so stubbornly persistent, who knows what state Damon would be in right now.” Willow. The name, like an ice-cold needle, pierced sharply into my heart. My nails dug into my flesh, but I felt no pain at all. Inside the room, another voice chimed in with a mocking laugh, “Alright, enough with the reminiscing. Damon, I heard Willow is coming back the day after tomorrow. The real queen is returning. What’s your plan?” The VIP room fell silent instantly. I held my breath, desperate to hear his answer. I heard the crisp clink of ice against glass, then his familiar, indifferent voice. He didn’t answer. He simply asked flatly: “Who needs more ice?” But those four words hit me like a sledgehammer, shattering all my persistence and every fantasy I had ever held. My head spun, buzzing with a hollow ache. I had chased him for six years. I was the darling youngest daughter of the Chen family, bright, bold, and used to getting everything I wanted since childhood. But with Damon, I stumbled. The porridge I made? He gave it to his driver. The portrait I painted? He locked it away in a dusty storage room. Any folder I touched? He would meticulously wipe it down with disinfectant wipes three times, right in front of me. Yet, I refused to give up. I believed my fiery passion would one day melt his icy heart. Eventually, he actually agreed to a marriage of convenience with me. I thought I had won, that my unwavering love had finally moved him. It wasn’t until today that I realized the truth. It wasn’t. His heart had simply died. He couldn’t marry the woman he loved, so he didn’t care who he married instead. And I? I was just the most convenient and obedient choice, appearing at the right time. How ridiculous. My six years of effort, in his and his friends’ eyes, was merely a timely saving grace. My palms were slick with moisture, a mix of sweat and the tiny pinpricks of blood where my nails had dug in. I didn’t push the door open. Holding everything I had painstakingly prepared, I turned and walked towards the trash can. “Thud.” A muffled sound. I tossed the priceless cake and cufflinks inside. Along with them, I threw away my heart. *** **Damon’s pov** Half an hour later, I stepped out of the VIP room. As I rounded the corridor corner, a beautifully decorated trash can caught my eye. Inside, the familiar logo of a high-end French pastry shop came into view, next to it lay a deep blue gift bag. The ribbon peeking out of the bag was my preferred color. But… Why was this in the trash? **Chloe’s pov** I rushed out the club’s main entrance, only to collide with someone hurrying in. My body instantly lost balance, and I instinctively reached out, bracing myself against the cold door frame. A sharp, searing pain shot through my wrist at the awkward angle. I stumbled, and the other person also lost their footing. The cake box in my hand tumbled to the ground, the cake splattering miserably on the damp steps, looking utterly pathetic. I bit back a cry of pain and looked up, only to freeze the next second. It was Willow. Before I could even speak, Damon emerged. His gaze swept past me, landing directly on Willow. Willow’s eyes immediately reddened, her voice laced with a whimper and profound grievance. “Damon…” She looked at him pitifully, then pointed at the mess on the ground, “I’m so sorry… I ruined your birthday cake…” She then pointed to her own knee, which she’d scraped, though it was barely bleeding. “I wanted to surprise you… I flew back two days early just for this, but I never imagined…” One sentence, clearly explained everything. She was here for him. Damon’s brow furrowed, his face revealing unconcealed distress. He didn’t ask what had happened, nor did he hesitate for a second. He bent down, scooped Willow into his arms, carefully cradling her, and hurried towards his car parked by the curb. Throughout it all, he didn’t see me. Even as I sobbed from the pain, he ignored me. His car lights cut through the rainy night, speeding away, splashing water everywhere. I stood rooted to the spot, finally letting the tears fall. It turns out, as long as Willow was around, I wasn’t even a background prop. Her minor scrape was a thousand times more important than my own excruciating injury. I took a deep breath. Divorce. I must get a divorce. **Chapter 2** **Chloe’s pov** I went to the hospital alone. Luckily, it was just a minor sprain. The doctor applied an ice pack and gave me instructions for care. Returning to the villa, I was met only by darkness and silence. I buried myself in the sofa, but the throbbing pain in my wrist reminded me of how absurd everything tonight had been. Then, a post on SnapChat unexpectedly popped into my feed. I didn’t know which mutual friend posted it. The accompanying photo was a blurry night shot. At the hospital entrance, Willow was leaning weakly into a tall figure’s embrace. And that figure was shielding her completely with his suit jacket. The comments below were filled with suggestive speculation: [What a divine scene! He must be heartbroken.] Though the figure was blurry, the sharp lines of his profile were unmistakable. It was Damon. So, his notorious germophobia was reserved only for me. He *could* be gentle, but that gentleness was never meant for me. I forced a bitter smile and drifted off to sleep. When I woke again, I went straight to Damon’s room. The bed was neatly made, no sign of anyone having slept in it. He hadn’t come home all night. I stood at the doorway, pulled out my phone, and called my best friend, Cassie. “Cassie, can you draft up a divorce agreement for me?” It wasn’t until evening that Damon returned. When he walked in, I was sitting on the sofa watching a show, ignoring him. Perhaps out of guilt or remorse, Damon uncharacteristically asked me: “What do you want to eat?” I thought for a moment before answering: “Let’s go to that new French restaurant downtown. I mentioned it before, but we never had the chance.” “Okay.” Damon drove me to the restaurant. We ordered our meal and waited for it to be served. But the atmosphere was awkward and silent. Let this be our last meal together, I thought. After this, we’ll have no ties. I’ll grant him his freedom, and release myself. Everything proceeded harmoniously. This meal, if nothing went wrong, would be finished in quiet peace. But Damon’s phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and immediately answered. From the other end, I faintly heard Willow’s intermittent sobs. Damon’s face instantly changed. He comforted her in a tone of tenderness he didn’t even seem to notice himself, then stood up, grabbed his jacket, and cast a glance at me: “I have an urgent matter to attend to.” “Damon.” I spoke quietly. Damon paused, turning back to look at me. “Whatever it is, let’s talk about it when I get back.” I persisted: “Can’t you really finish one meal with me properly?” He frowned, his voice tinged with clear impatience. “Be good, don’t make a scene. We can eat anytime, we’ll have plenty of time later. Right now, I have something important to deal with.” I slowly shook my head, “There’s no time left.” Damon paused, finding my words strange. He was about to press for more. But just then, his phone rang again. It was still Willow. He answered, his voice immediately switching back to tenderness: “I’m coming now, I’ll be there soon.” He hung up, then turned back to me: “What did you just say?” I opened my mouth, but in the end, said nothing, simply waving my hand: “It doesn’t matter anymore. Go quickly, you have an emergency.” Damon felt that something was off, but Willow’s cries were still ringing in his ears. Without another word, he turned and quickly left the restaurant. After Damon left, I didn’t go. I finished the meal alone. After all, I had always wanted to try this newly opened restaurant. Walking out after eating, a car suddenly screeched to a halt in front of me. The door opened, and the person who stepped out was Damon. He had come back. Could it be that he would abandon his beloved to come back and eat with me? **Chapter 3** **Chloe’s pov** Damon approached, his face grim and serious. Without a word, he grabbed my arm. I winced, a sharp hiss escaping my lips, but he didn’t care. He practically shoved me into the car. “What are you doing?” Damon started the engine as he explained: “Willow has been kidnapped.” “She’s been kidnapped? You’re not calling the police, so why are you coming to me?” Damon’s lips were pressed tightly together, a flicker of guilt in his eyes as he looked at me, then he said: “The kidnappers mistook her for my wife. They want to use her to threaten me…” “Oh.” I understood instantly: “So, you want to use me as a swap? Damon, I never thought you’d be this kind of person!” “Chloe, listen to me. I’ll install a tracker on your phone, I’ll be following you the whole time, I won’t let anything happen to you.” Damon continued: “But Willow is different. She was dragged into this because of me. She shouldn’t have to suffer like this.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing: “And I *should* suffer like this? Damon, is this fair to me?” Damon pulled me into his arms, pressing a kiss on my forehead: “Chloe, be good. Trust me. After this is over, I’ll make it up to you properly…” I didn’t say another word, tears streaming down my face. This was the first time he had touched me so intimately, and it was all for another woman. Damon drove, the lines of his profile looking even colder and harder in the dim light. “Give me your phone.” He suddenly spoke, his tone commanding. I didn’t move, nor did I speak. Damon frowned impatiently. During a red light, he reached into my purse himself and took out my phone. He opened the back cover and inserted a tiny, fingernail-sized metal chip. “This is the latest model of tracker. The signal won’t be blocked.” He explained as he reassembled the phone, “Rocco’s men will check, but this thing is discreet enough. Don’t worry, as soon as we get Willow back, I promise, I’ll rescue you immediately.” This was the man for whom I was once willing to give up the world. Chloe, you are truly laughable. The car finally stopped in front of an abandoned dock. It was deserted here, with only a few colossal, rust-stained warehouses. “Get out.” Damon turned off the engine, his voice devoid of emotion. I unbuckled my seatbelt and pushed the door open. Bone-chilling wind lashed with icy rain, making me shiver uncontrollably. Damon opened a black umbrella, completely shielding me beneath it. How ironic. He was being so considerate to me, but it was all for another woman. We walked towards the innermost warehouse. The old iron door was ajar, a faint, yellowish light leaking through the crack. Damon pushed the door open, and a foul stench of rust and mold assailed us. Inside the warehouse, seven or eight burly thugs stood, led by a bald man with a grotesque scar across his face. And behind them, a frail figure was haphazardly tied to a chair. It was Willow. I clearly saw the calm and restraint in Damon’s eyes instantly shatter. His gaze filled with rage and an undeniable, suffocating ache. “Mr. King, you finally made it.” The scar-faced man exhaled a thick puff of smoke, a leering smirk on his face. “I brought the person.” Damon pushed me forward a step, “Let her go.” His action was so natural. The scar-faced man chuckled, then walked up to me, his rough fingers pinching my chin, “So, this is the real Mrs. King. Quite a beauty.” He turned to Damon, his tone teasing, “Mr. King, is it worth sending such a beautiful wife into the fire for an old flame?” I saw Damon clench his fists, veins bulging on the back of his hand, but he held back. “Cut the crap. Release her!” The scar-faced man nodded, satisfied, and signaled to his men. Two thugs walked over and roughly untied Willow. “Damon!” As soon as Willow was free, she cried out and rushed into Damon’s arms. Damon spread his arms, catching her steadily. “Don’t be scared. I’m here. It’s okay now.” He whispered comforting words, his voice tender in a way I had never heard before. I coldly watched the touching scene of their deep embrace. But inside, my heart felt as if it were being pricked by countless fine needles, a dense, suffocating pain. “You can take her now,” The scar-faced man impatiently cut them off, “But Mrs. King here will be coming with us for a while.” Two thugs walked towards me, grabbing my arms, one on each side. I didn’t resist. Only when I brushed past Damon did I stop and look at him. “Damon,” I looked into his eyes, speaking each word clearly, “From this moment on, we are even.” Damon stiffened, his face instantly changing. And Willow, nestled weakly in his arms, looked at me with a victorious, taunting smirk. I was roughly shoved by the two thugs. Behind me, I heard the footsteps of Damon and Willow gradually fading away. He didn’t even turn to look at me again. The heavy iron door of the warehouse slammed shut with a dull thud. Only darkness remained.
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