It was the fifth year of my marriage to Victoria, and the news of her affair had just broken, spreading like wildfire. To shield Tristan from being branded as the “other man,” Victoria came to me with divorce papers. “Professor Evans helped me back then,” she said, her voice firm, “I can’t let his son become a homewrecker.” All these years, Tristan was always Victoria’s first priority. In my past life, when I heard those words, I had a complete meltdown, refusing to divorce her. But she directly orchestrated a scheme, framing me for cheating, and then filed for divorce. That was when I finally understood that I could never compare to a debt of gratitude. In utter despair, I took my own life. When I opened my eyes again, I signed those divorce papers without a second thought. “Julian, once this blows over, can we get back together?” I was sitting in the villa garden, lost in thought, when Victoria arrived with Tristan. Just three hours earlier, paparazzi had exposed Tristan as Victoria’s lover. The entire internet was furious, calling him the third party who shattered our marriage. Victoria’s “devoted wife” image had crumbled, and her company’s stock price was plummeting. In my past life, when Victoria presented those papers, I had ripped out every rose she’d planted for me, madly questioning her relationship with Tristan. He was merely the son of her mentor; there were countless other ways to resolve this. But she chose to sacrifice me, all to prevent Tristan’s depression from worsening. She never knew that during that same period, I, too, had been diagnosed with moderate depression. “Julian,” Victoria called my name again. I lowered my gaze to the divorce papers on the stone table. She knelt, looking me in the eye, and reached out to hold my hand. Her tone was coaxing. “Julian, just for me, please?” “We can tell everyone our marriage was over a year ago, that we wanted to separate but hadn’t found the right time to announce it publicly.” I remained silent. Behind her, Tristan, in his thin clothes, had pale lips and red-rimmed eyes. “Julian, please, help me, okay?” “My mom committed suicide because of cyberbullying-induced depression. I don’t want to follow in her footsteps. I’m begging you, please…” He made to kneel, but Victoria immediately rose and pulled him up, shielding him behind her. Her face darkened, and she snapped in a low voice, “What are you doing?” Tristan choked, his voice trembling, tears welling as he lowered his head. “I… I just wanted to make him feel better.” Victoria’s brows furrowed instantly. When she looked at me, that hint of gentleness in her eyes completely vanished. “Julian, I’m not here to negotiate.” “This is already decided. If you don’t divorce me, then don’t blame me for—” I met her gaze, and her words died on her lips. But I knew what she was going to say. She would have said, “Julian, you know what I’m capable of. I have plenty of ways to make you sign.” “If you force this to court, you won’t win against my legal team.” Those were her exact words in my past life. Later, I was framed, waking up in bed with other women, with irrefutable proof of my “infidelity.” Overnight, I became the cheating one, enduring endless scorn. She and Tristan, ironically, became the victims. “I’ll sign,” I said after a long silence, “but you have to promise me one thing.”
Victoria glanced at me, then nodded in agreement. She handed me the pen. I took it, my expression unreadable, and signed my name. “Aren’t you going to read the agreement?” Victoria asked, frowning. I smiled faintly. “No need.” She was practically walking away with nothing, signing over all our assets to me—all for Tristan, to repay a debt of gratitude. “Let’s go to the registry office tomorrow.” “Okay,” I said. Victoria’s hand, holding the signed agreement, paused. She looked at me with a hint of bewilderment but ultimately said nothing. As they left, Tristan looked back, a sneer on his face, and mouthed silently, “You lost.” I certainly had lost. I’d lost my entire life. That’s why this time, I refused to lose again. A moment later, my phone lit up with a SnapChat message from Victoria. Victoria: You went through a lot today, Julian. I’m sorry. Victoria: Once this is over, I’ll give you another wedding. We’ll get back together. Victoria: I can’t just watch Tristan’s depression worsen. You understand, right? I stared at the message and couldn’t help but laugh, tears welling in my eyes. It was the same in my past life. To pressure me into divorce, Victoria had gotten advice from friends and drank herself into a stupor. But she forgot that her friends were my friends too. Harper, while urging Victoria not to ruin our marriage for Tristan, also came to me, asking for my understanding, claiming Victoria was just “exceptionally loyal.” She said that if Tristan’s father hadn’t recognized Victoria’s talent back then, investing in her and helping her start her company, Victoria wouldn’t be where she was today. I had cried back then, arguing, “She had countless ways to clarify the situation, why did she have to divorce me?” Harper fell silent. She had asked Victoria, who replied, “Someone has to be hurt. I can only make Julian suffer. He loves me; he’ll understand.” Because I loved her, I was expendable. What kind of logic was that? Luckily, I had another chance.
When it came to Tristan, Victoria always moved fast. We’d barely signed the papers in the morning when she arranged a press conference for the evening, having her assistant invite me to attend and clarify the situation. I didn’t say anything. The assistant, assuming I would refuse, relayed Victoria’s message. He said, “Mr. Sterling, you really should attend this press conference. If not for Ms. Dawson, then for your own reputation.” I paused for a second, then scoffed. Victoria was threatening me. She wanted to use the same old tactics from my past life, to slander my name, crush me with public opinion, and force me to surrender. I could never understand, did Victoria see me as a partner or an enemy? Now she wanted to publicly clarify our relationship. I wouldn’t shy away. The press conference was held in the city’s most exclusive hotel ballroom, attended by all the major media outlets. When Tristan, dressed in a suit, appeared alongside Victoria, reporters immediately swarmed them. Victoria instinctively shielded him, smiling as she deflected microphones. “Please wait, I’ll answer all your questions.” “Could you please make way?” Her voice was gentle. She looked up, meeting my eyes, as I too was surrounded. For a moment, I actually hoped she’d help me out of the crowd. But the next second, she subtly shifted her gaze, a smile on her lips, and led Tristan onto the stage, as if she hadn’t seen me at all. I gave a self-mocking twist of my lips. The closest reporter, who looked like an intern, timidly held out a microphone and asked, “Mr. Sterling, are you really divorcing Ms. Dawson?” “Yes,” I replied, looking up with a smile and a nod. The intern pushed up his glasses. “But you and Ms. Dawson met in high school, dated for seven years, and have been married for five.” “Last month, Ms. Dawson even bought an island and named it after you.” I continued to smile, though the warmth didn’t reach my eyes. “That’s what she owed me.” To care for the ailing Tristan, she had missed my birthday. The island was her belated apology. In my past life, I’d been proud of it, only to later learn it was Harper’s idea, and Victoria’s assistant had picked the island. Victoria didn’t even know where it was. “So, do you still love Ms. Dawson?” She looked at me anxiously. The surrounding reporters fell silent, even Victoria on stage looked over. Her brow furrowed slightly. I simply met her gaze, a slight curve to my lips, and clearly stated:”No, I don’t.”
I didn’t stay until the end of the interview. After Victoria clarified that my marriage to her had been effectively over for a year, I left. Overnight, I became Victoria’s discarded project, a broken thing. Tristan, however, emerged as the sole innocent victim of the public scrutiny. That interview remained pinned on social media for days, the topic’s heat never fading. Especially Victoria’s statement: “Julian and I had been planning to divorce for over a year, but the timing wasn’t right. We intended to handle it discreetly, but now that it’s affecting an innocent person, we have no choice but to clarify publicly. Tristan is not the third party in our broken relationship. He is the only remaining connection my mentor has in this world. My care for him is understandable; I hope everyone can view this rationally.” Some fans were swayed, claiming our relationship fell apart because I was overly suspicious and jealous, viewing pure friendship and gratitude as something dirty. They also said I wasn’t broad-minded enough, learning nothing of Victoria’s loyalty and sincerity in five years of marriage. The topic festered for days. I became the public’s punching bag. As I walked out of the city hall with the divorce papers, Victoria called out to me. “Don’t take what’s on the internet to heart, Julian. New hot topics will quickly overshadow it.” I stopped, unable to resist a light laugh. How could the distinction be so vast when both of us were being attacked on social media? “Julian, Christmas is only two months away.” “In spring, we can start over, okay?” She looked at me, and as she began to approach, I took a step back, turning my gaze to the paparazzi being held back by security nearby. Victoria also realized the impropriety and stopped. “Victoria,” I said, “I’m going back to Vancouver.” She nodded. “You haven’t been back in a long time. It’s good to stay there for a while. I’ll pick you up for Christmas—” “I’m not coming back,” I calmly interrupted her. The smile on her face froze, confusion in her eyes. “The condition you promised me when I agreed to sign the papers,” I continued, “it’s time to fulfill it.” Victoria stared at me blankly. When I first reborn, it only took me a few seconds to process my love and hatred for her. Seeing the divorce papers, I had thought about tearing them up and making a huge scene again, but ultimately, rationality prevailed. After a long moment, I curved my lips into a smile. “Victoria, I want you to disappear from my life forever.”
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