C06
At the venue, Kendall was glowing, her laughter echoing through the room as she meticulously chose her
reception dress. She radiated joy, a picture–perfect bride basking in the love and adoration surrounding her.
From across the room, Blake watched her. This was everything he had ever dreamed of, standing on the brink of marrying the woman he had always claimed to love. Yet, beneath the surface, a shadow lingered. His heart felt heavy, veiled by an unshakable mist that left him restless as if a piece of the puzzle was missing.
Unable to resist, he pulled out his phone and opened the chat with me. The screen lit up with his last message from the day before, a sharp warning that if I didn’t return home, he’d cut me off financially.
There was no reply. Just silence.
For five years, she had been the perfect picture of compliance, never once defying his authority.
In all that time, she had never stayed away this long.
Irritated, Blake fired off another message.
[What childish tantrum are you throwing now?]
But as he hit send, a glaring red exclamation mark greeted him. The message hadn’t gone through.
She had blocked him.
Fury surged through him as he tried calling her, only to be met with the cold realization that his calls had been
blocked as well.
What game was she playing?
Without wasting a second, he grabbed his phone and barked orders to his assistant.
“Freeze Laura’s supplementary card immediately and restrict all her spending!”
7:12 PM
My Husband Wants Me To Serve His Mistress
Without access to money, he thought, she and her brother wouldn’t last long in this city. They’d come crawling
back.
There was a brief silence on the other end before the assistant hesitantly spoke.
*Sir, for the past five years, she hasn’t used her supplementary card even once.”
Blake froze.
The words reverberated in his mind, unraveling memories he hadn’t bothered to reflect on before.
Five years ago, Laura had been vibrant and radiant, her youth glowing like sunlight, just as Kendall was now. From the moment they married, she had done everything he asked without hesitation.
He had told her he disliked the scent of cosmetics, and she had stopped wearing makeup entirely.
He had told her he didn’t want his wife parading in public, and she had confined herself to the villa, hidden from the world for five long years.
The supplementary card he had handed her was meant as a token, a trifling compensation for stealing her freedom and her youth. He had expected her to indulge like the wives of other wealthy men, lavishing herself with luxuries and spending thoughtlessly.
But she hadn’t touched a single cent. Not once.
A strange heaviness settled in his chest, unfamiliar and unwelcome. Even when Kendall twirled before him in a newly chosen dress, asking with a coy smile if she looked beautiful, he could only manage a distracted nod.
His thoughts lingered elsewhere.
After the briefest of courtesies, Blake left the boutique and drove straight to the villa, his mind clouded with questions he couldn’t answer.
Since Laura had refused to return to the villa, he had arranged for Kendall to move into another house, complete
with servants, and hadn’t set foot in the villa since.
He assumed that after half a month without spending a single penny, Laura would have obediently come back by
now. Yet, an unfamiliar restlessness gnawed at him, a strange, inexplicable urgency to see her again.
To see the face he had once dismissed without a second thought.
He scoffed at himself, thinking he must have lost his mind. But as he opened the door and stepped inside, his eyes scanned every corner of the villa. Room after room, he searched for her, yet found nothing.
The air was cold, carrying a scent that felt foreign and empty. It hit him; she had never returned.
Frustration surged through him as he yanked out his phone, dialing her number once more. The cold, automated tone reminded him of a truth he hated to admit: she had blocked him.
“Laura!” he roared, kicking the coffee table with enough force to rattle the room. “If you have the guts, then don’t ever come back! Let’s see how long you can survive on your own!”
The words hung in the air, hollow and bitter.
It was then that his gaze fell on a folder that had slipped from the coffee table. He reached down, his fingers trembling slightly as he picked it up.
The bold letters on the cover, “Divorce Agreement,” cut through him like a blade.
He flipped it open, his eyes catching the signature at the bottom. His own name stared back at him, written in his
own hand.
