Eugene.
Even my parents seemed to favor Eugene over me. They thought he was capable, ambitious, and resourceful–exactly the kind of person who could handle their family fortune.
In their own words, marrying him was their way of showing love for me.
So, when I filed for divorce in my previous life, they flatly refused, as if it were the most natural thing to do. To them, it didn’t matter whether I was happy or not. What mattered was that Eugene could keep the family business running smoothly.
I knew that once we were married, divorcing him wouldn’t be easy. The Cook and Shaw families were too tightly intertwined for that.
So, I endured. Year after year, I waited.
Finally, in the sixth year, I obtained evidence of Eugene’s mismanagement of the company. I laid it all out in front of him, using it as leverage to demand a divorce.
And yet…
This time, I was given a second chance, and there was no way I was going to make the same mistake again.
I slid into the passenger seat of Evan’s car, looking at him with a playful, pleading expression.
“Evan, can you take me home?”
He didn’t refuse. Starting the car, he drove me toward my villa.
As we neared the house, he handed me his phone, his expression unreadable.
I glanced at him, puzzled.
He spoke directly, his voice carrying a subtle but undeniable authority.
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow and bring you to the Shaw estate to discuss the engagement.”
Without hesitation, I quickly entered my phone number into his device and handed it back to him with a respectful smile.
“Done, Evan.”
Evan parked the car smoothly and, before letting me leave, called my number to ensure it rang. Only when he heard my ringtone did he unlock the door.
“Go on. Call me if anything comes up.”
“Okay, I will.”
