“Aria, I’m over it.” Leo rolled off the couch, chin tilted defiantly, an arrogant smirk playing on his lips. I froze, my hand instinctively flying to my shirt buttons. “Okay.” “Okay?” “It’s too late now. Taxis are expensive,” I said, reaching for the bag he’d tossed onto the table, pulling out my phone to check the time. “You can leave tomorrow morning.” His beautiful eyes fixed on me, saying nothing. “If you can’t wake up,” I added, my voice incredibly soft, “tomorrow afternoon works too.” He reached out, grabbing my outstretched hand. His six-foot-plus frame suddenly loomed, an overwhelming presence. “You’re something else, Aria,” he whispered close to my ear. The next morning, squeezed onto a packed subway during rush hour, my SnapChat groups exploded with messages. The reason? A famous actress had been caught on camera late at night, spending time in a wealthy heir’s apartment. I work in entertainment media, and this concrete proof was absolutely explosive. Blake Davis, from the Davis family, worth hundreds of millions. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth. “Maybe she’ll actually marry him,” a colleague grumbled to me. “No, she won’t,” I replied curtly. “How do you know?” Because I’m Blake Davis’s wife. Or, to be precise, his ex-wife. It took everything I had to marry Blake. The subway pulled into the station, and I squeezed out like a sardine, accidentally dropping my earbuds. I turned back to see them on the ground, stepped on a few times. Before I could even pick them up, the train doors closed. Rushing to clock in, I sped to the office, barely catching an elevator. But then it beeped loudly, overloaded, and under everyone’s watchful eyes, I had to step out, defeated. Ah… my perfect attendance bonus… With a sigh of resignation, I waited for the next elevator. Pulling out my phone, I saw a text from Leo from fifteen minutes ago. He’d ordered breakfast delivery to my office and told me to remember to answer the rider’s call. I swiped up and saw a missed call from an unknown number five minutes ago. Must be the delivery rider. I’d missed the call. I called back, but it was immediately hung up. After a moment, a text came through: “In a meeting. Hold on.” A meeting? I texted back: “Delivery rider? Just leave it at the front desk, thanks.” I turned to walk towards the front desk when my phone rang. I answered, speaking quickly, “Hi, I’m at the company entrance. You can just bring it over.” There was a moment of silence on the other end, then a calm, unbothered voice. “Rider?” Blake Davis. My feet froze. The last time we’d spoken felt like a lifetime ago. Six months, to be exact. “Is there something you need?” I asked. “Come back to the family estate tonight,” he said. Divorcing him was my idea. He, however, thought I was throwing a tantrum. “Is that all you’ve got?” His eyes held an impatient sneer. “Short on cash again?” He’d found a convenient reason for my actions. Meeting my serious gaze, his brow furrowed. “Is this supposed to be amusing?” He leaned back in his chair, narrowing his eyes. I handed him the divorce papers. He stared into my eyes, like a dangerous predator, and I felt his anger slowly radiating from him. Provoking him, it seemed, had become my source of perverse pleasure in our dysfunctional marriage. But now, it all felt so utterly meaningless. “Stop the drama, just sign,” I said, my voice flat, lightly tossing the agreement onto the table. He watched my actions, then actually chuckled, as if he’d seen right through me. His tone was full of mockery: “Sign? Why wouldn’t I sign?” He seemed convinced I was just trying to manipulate him into staying. I watched as his pen quickly scrawled across the agreement. Once he was done, I reached for it, but he grabbed my wrist, pulling me hard into his embrace, a sensation both strange and unsettlingly familiar. “Leave with nothing but the clothes on your back,” he whispered in my ear. “Let’s see how long you last without me.” “Aria, coming over tonight?” I received Leo’s text just before leaving work. I didn’t reply, putting my phone away and heading to a ride-share with two large bags of groceries. In the car, I thought about it, then picked up my phone to text back. “Busy.” The car pulled up to the outer perimeter of the upscale gated community. The security guard at the gate wouldn’t let us in. I rolled down the window and greeted the guard. He immediately broke into a smile. “Mrs. Davis, it’s been a long time!” As soon as I stepped inside the front door, I caught the rich aroma of pork rib and lotus root soup. Mrs. Davis, the housekeeper, carried the groceries into the kitchen. Then Mrs. Davis, Blake’s mom, quickly untied her apron and rushed into the living room. “Aria, you’re back?” “Mom,” I said, changing into slippers as I walked over. “Smells like pork ribs. So good.” “Yes, it is! I specially simmered it for you this afternoon.” Mrs. Davis was meticulously well-preserved, her skin smooth and glowing, making her look no older than her early thirties. “Oh, Aria, why are your dark circles so heavy? Is work very tiring?” “It’s fine,” I said, sitting on the sofa. “Just used to staying up late.” “Well, that won’t do,” Mrs. Davis said, sitting beside me, her expression serious. “Your health is the most important thing. I always tell Blake to stop making you work so hard, but he always says I’m being meddlesome. Oh, I’ve watched you grow up since you were little, you’re dearer to me than a daughter. It’s just Blake’s personality isn’t good, he doesn’t know how to care for people.” Mrs. Davis held my hand, talking softly and incessantly. “Mom.” Blake’s voice came from behind us. “You’re back?” Mrs. Davis turned. “Oh, why are you two still arriving separately?” “I came from the office,” Blake said, turning to go upstairs. Six months had passed. His voice felt almost like a stranger’s to me. My phone vibrated. It was Leo. “Can’t sleep without you, Aria.” I turned off my phone screen. Mrs. Davis turned back to me. “Are you two staying at the family estate tonight?” “Depends on him,” I said. Mrs. Davis nodded, then remembered something and got up to go to the kitchen. I opened my phone and replied to Leo. “Then don’t sleep.” Blake handed me a bowl of lotus root soup. When my fingertips brushed his, there was a strange, uncomfortable sensation. His gaze flickered to my face for an instant, then away. “Stay at home tonight,” Mr. Davis, Blake’s grandfather, said. “I have something tomorrow,” Blake said, “so no.” Mr. Davis put his bowl down with a thud, which prompted a few coughs. The air suddenly thickened. Blake continued eating as if nothing happened. “Her company is on the north side of the city. Commuting from the family estate would take two hours.” The atmosphere eased slightly. Mr. Davis turned to me. “Still doing that job, dear? “Are you adapting well?” Mr. Davis asked with concern. “If it’s too much, just let Blake lighten your load.” “It’s fine, Grandpa. I’m very used to it.” Blake drove me home. “You’re driving yourself?” I asked from the passenger seat, awkwardly breaking the silence. He said nothing. Always like this. My words, he’d selectively answer. I ran my fingers along the right car window frame. It had been too long since I’d ridden in such a nice car. The feel was so smooth. He turned his head to glance at me, just a fleeting look. Like a royal decree. We drove through the city night, the car silent. Suddenly, a phone rang. Blake answered it. The car was too quiet, so I, sitting in the passenger seat, heard the woman’s voice on the other end crystal clear. She was whining, begging for company. His beautiful eyes flickered to me, an imperceptible glance. Not from guilt, just a test. “I’ll be there tonight,” he said, his tone neither warm nor cold. The woman on the other end was clearly overjoyed, rattling on endlessly. “Don’t call while driving,” I said, my voice low, but it instantly silenced the woman. Blake, however, chuckled. He said a few more words, then hung up. “Deliberate?” He couldn’t help but ask, turning the steering wheel. Heaven’s honest truth, I was only thinking of my own life. “When we were married, I never cared about you seeing other women,” I raised my eyebrows. “We’re divorced now, what business is it of mine?” His car was as cold as he was. I reached out to turn on the heating, but he slapped my hand away. “Outside air circulation,” he said, pressing a button, glancing at me. “Your perfume is suffocating.” “I’m not wearing perfume,” I retorted. Red light. He reached to touch my head. I instinctively flinched back. His hand paused, then he sneered coldly, quickly pulling it away. “Your hair.” I touched my hair, brought it to my nose, and sniffed. Ah, I understood. It was the smell of shampoo from Leo’s apartment. A men’s fragrance. I lowered the strand of hair I’d picked up and looked at Blake. He was waiting for my explanation. I turned my head to the window. “We’re divorced.” Things I didn’t care about before, there was even less reason to care about now. He remained silent. The car was terrifyingly quiet. “Subway station, get out,” he said. I opened my phone to check the time. “The subway’s not running now.” Twelve thirteen AM. “Can you call a taxi?” He pulled the car over to the side of the road, his voice laced with annoyance. “Get out.” He saw I hadn’t moved. “What? Can’t you understand me?” His tone was harsh, like a prelude to an explosion of anger. I met his dangerously intense gaze. He was waiting for me to back down. But I only wanted to challenge his limits even more. I smiled, my fingers lightly tapping on the comfortable window frame. “You get out,” I said. “What?” He didn’t react, turning to look at me, still with that impatient expression. “What? You don’t understand me?” I smiled back at him. He finally understood, his eyebrows furrowing. “What’s wrong with you—” He didn’t finish his sentence, putting on a look of not wanting to argue. “Stop messing around, get out. “I’ll reimburse you for the taxi,” he sighed faintly. I laughed. “You get out, I’ll reimburse *you* for the taxi.” That really pissed him off. “What are you doing?!” “Oh, you don’t know how to call a taxi yourself?” My voice was gentle. “Then I’ll call Mr. Chen to come pick you up, okay?” I made to call, but his large hand covered my phone. “What do you mean?” His breath brushed my ear. I leaned back slightly, pulling away from him. “We’re already divorced. If you want to wait for the right moment to tell your family, I can help you play along. “But that doesn’t mean I have to put up with your terrible temper anymore.” I shook my phone at him. “How many years have you used this trick of telling me to get out of the car?” He tried to snatch my phone, but I held it tightly. He stared deeply at me, as if recalling something, his grip leaving a red mark on my wrist. He snatched my phone, brushing past my ear, and slammed it against the car window. “Keep messing around if you dare.” Then he turned and got out of the car. I picked up my phone, moved into the driver’s seat, and drove off without looking back. I drove the car to Leo’s apartment’s underground garage. I turned to him. “What happened to your forehead?” He rubbed his forehead. “Nothing, just bumped it.” Ouch, his face is so handsome, it’d be a shame to scuff it. “Worried about me?” He leaned in closer. Seeing I didn’t speak, he asked again, “Where did you get the car?” I turned off the engine and handed him the car keys. “It’s yours.” He raised an eyebrow. “Got guts now? Where’d you steal it from?” I pressed the car keys into his hand, ready to get out. My wrist was suddenly grabbed. But he didn’t dare use force, afraid of hurting me. “What do you want?” I asked him. “Don’t you want to try?” “Try what?” “What do you think?” He smiled broadly, rubbing my wrist. The next morning, I was woken by my phone ringing. Muffled under the covers, I didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to go to work, didn’t want to get up. Leo got up, took the phone, and handed it to me. Then he pulled me into his arms, his warmth enveloping me. “Hello, who is this…” My voice was muffled from under the blankets. “Do you know there’s surveillance in my car?” That woke me up. I tried to push Leo away and get up, but his big arms and legs bundled me in, holding me down. I coughed abruptly, glancing at the caller ID. Blake Davis. Ugh. “I didn’t,” I cleared my throat. “Now you do,” the voice on the other end said. What kind of person is that? Installing surveillance in his own car. “Aria, can I drive you to work?” Leo drowsily leaned against the bathroom door frame, following me like a puppy. “You have morning classes,” I said, washing my face. “Hurry up and go to school.” Leo walked behind me, unable to open his eyes, just resting his head on my shoulder. “No, you’re heavy,” I nudged his head away. His hair was fluffy, truly like a dog’s. “Beep, beep, beep,” he murmured, his voice slightly deeper in the morning. “What are you doing?” I splashed warm water on his face. He rubbed against my neck. “Hold on, I need to recharge.” I pushed him away, exasperated. I grabbed my bag, ready to brave the subway. “Oh, right,” I said before leaving. “You can drive that car whenever you want, but there’s a camera inside. Find it and take it out.” “Camera?” He leaned against the door, seeing me off. “Aria, you really have a lot of tricks up your sleeve.” **Part Two** At eight PM, Julian returned to the country. S11 Club. Just before clocking out, I received a SnapChat from Blake. Read, then deleted. “Can’t find it.” Leo called me when I had just gotten back to my own apartment. “Can’t find what?” I asked, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder as I changed shoes. “The camera,” Leo said, his voice laced with amusement. “Alright, Aria, are you messing with me?” I paused. “You really can’t find it?” “I’ve searched everywhere,” he said. Music was loud on his end, like someone was calling him. “Are you coming to see me tonight?” he asked. “No.” I hung up. My phone showed exactly eight PM. Time for my online class. I opened my TOEFL notes and began speaking English to my kind foreign teacher on the computer. “Why not?” Blake’s voice held no discernible emotion. “There’s no camera in your car,” I said, taking a sip of water, changing the subject. “Were you testing me?” “Why are you so guilty?” he asked me. “What do you care?” I countered. “I care?” His emotions finally showed some fluctuation. “You *want* me to care?” He’d stated a question as a declarative sentence. It was his usual blind self-confidence. The foreign teacher on the computer called my name, pointing to his watch, signaling that the break was over. “Are you seeing foreigners now?” Blake sneered. “Is this all you have left? “It won’t work,” he said. “When did you start English classes?” He looked displeased, the car stopped at a red light. Outside, the city night was cold under a fine, misty rain. “Six months ago,” I said, looking out the window. Blake’s profile was reflected in the glass. Half an hour ago, he’d appeared at my apartment door, wearing the same expression. Only angrier. “Why are you learning English?” he asked me. “Why are you at my apartment?” I asked him. He turned to look at me, his eyes carrying the unique mist of a cold night. The mist would spread, clinging to my skin in the confined space of the car. “Why do you think?” he said, his tone mocking. Green light, the car moved. His expression cleared, returning to his usual calm and restraint. Julian was still as youthful as ever. “Let’s wish CEO Sterling a happy thirty-third birthday!” As soon as I entered the private room, I heard people shouting inside. Julian looked over the crowd and saw me, and then he saw Blake standing behind me. “Well, CEO Sterling’s sister is here,” someone called out. I was pushed forward, facing him directly. He was wearing a cream-colored cashmere sweater. He raised his hand as if to place it on my head, his eyes briefly sweeping over Blake, then settling on my shoulder.
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