Chapter 2

Percival tilted his head slightly, his deep eyes revealing nothing.

"What did you say?" he asked, his tone carrying a cold warning.

Florence clenched her fists. Her knuckles turned white.

She lifted her head and met those unfathomable eyes. Word by word, she repeated: "I said, I want a divorce."

Finally, Percival looked at her.

Really looked at her.

He turned to face her, a mocking curve lifting the corner of his mouth. "Just because I didn't spend some wedding anniversary with you tonight?"

Florence felt a sharp stab in her chest. She bit her lip. "This isn't the first time. Every time Yvaine threatens suicide, you abandon me. I've had enough!"

"So you're jealous?" Percival raised an eyebrow, the mockery in his tone deepening.

"I'm not jealous." Florence shook her head, her gaze sliding away. "Percival, you never had room for me in your heart. I don't want to lie to myself anymore."

Percival's eyes darkened. He said nothing. Instead, he walked toward her, bringing with him an overwhelming sense of pressure.

Florence instinctively stepped back. Her spine hit the hallway wall. There was nowhere left to go.

Percival stopped in front of her, towering over her.

He was a full head taller. Now he leaned down slightly, one hand braced against the wall beside her ear, caging her entirely in his shadow.

Florence's breath caught.

Percival raised his other hand. His long fingers gripped her chin, applying just enough pressure to force her to lift her head and meet his eyes.

"Florence." His low voice rumbled. "When you schemed your way into the Churchill family, didn't you realize there would never be anything like love between us?"

Florence's face went pale in an instant.

She remembered three years ago. Cody had come to her and said Percival needed a wife. He asked if she was willing.

She'd nodded without hesitation. Because she loved him. From the first time she'd seen him at thirteen, she'd liked him.

After years of secret longing, she finally had a chance. How could she refuse?

She thought if she was good enough, patient enough, understanding enough, one day he'd see her worth.

But she was wrong.

Three years. Over a thousand days and nights. She cooked for him. She maintained Mrs. Churchill's dignity at every important occasion.

Percival had a weak stomach. She woke up at three in the morning to make porridge, simmering it slowly for two hours so he could have a bowl when he woke.

But everything she did meant less to him than a single strand of Yvaine's hair.

Yvaine said she wanted cake from Manhattan. He canceled an entire day of meetings to drive there and buy it.

Yvaine said she wanted to see the Northern Lights. He booked tickets that same day.

Yvaine threatened suicide. He abandoned a room full of guests. Abandoned his own wife. Left without looking back.

And Florence—she couldn't even brush his fingers without him jerking away like she carried the plague.

"I know." Florence's voice was soft, tinged with a numb, sinking defeat. "Since you never loved me, I'll step aside. I'll let you have Yvaine."

She finished speaking and turned her head, trying to pull away from his grip and leave.

But Percival didn't let go.

He lowered his head. His lips nearly touched her ear, his breath warm and damp. His tone was low. "You think the Churchill family is somewhere you can come and go as you please?"

"Then what do you want? To continue this sexless marriage?" Florence's voice trembled with shame and anger.

"Sexless?" Percival straightened, looking down at her, a sneer curving his lips. "So Mrs. Churchill is lonely now. You want me to spend more time with you?"

His words sent a rush of blood to Florence's head. Three years of grievances and resentment surged up all at once.

She shoved his hand away and lifted her head to stare him straight in the eyes. "Percival, listen carefully. I'd rather find another man than touch a scumbag like you!"

"What did you say?" Percival stepped closer, his eyes vicious, his patience completely gone.

At that moment, Percival's phone rang.

He glanced down at the caller ID, frowned, then answered.

"Percival..." Yvaine's soft, fragile voice drifted out. "I'm so scared alone at the hospital. Can you come stay with me?"

The room was quiet. Florence heard every word.

Percival glanced at Florence. His voice softened unconsciously. "Okay. I'll be right there."

Florence stood still, her back to him. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Again.

Always like this.

No matter what she said or did, the moment Yvaine called, Percival dropped everything and left her behind.

For three years, every single time, it was the same.

Percival hung up. He looked at Florence's back, his tone cold again. "I have something to take care of. Stop making a scene. We'll talk when I get back."

Florence pulled at the corner of her mouth. She didn't turn around. Didn't answer.

After Percival left, Florence stood in the hallway for a long time. Then she went to the bedroom, opened the closet, pulled out a suitcase, and began packing.

In an elegant little box, she found the hairpin. The one he'd given her the first time they met, when she was thirteen.

She'd treasured that hairpin like a sacred vow, carefully guarding the promise between them.

But now it seemed Percival had long forgotten that promise.

Florence sighed. She placed the hairpin back in the box and shoved it into the closet.

If she was leaving, she wouldn't take anything of his. Just a few changes of clothes. Some important documents.

After packing, she pulled out her phone and dialed a number.

"Hello, is this the divorce law firm? I'd like to schedule an appointment with a lawyer to file for divorce."

Percival didn't come home until the following evening.

When he arrived, he tiredly shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the sofa as usual. Veda, the maid, immediately stepped forward to pick it up and fold it.

Percival frowned. Usually at this time, Florence folded his clothes. Today, she was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Florence?" Percival asked hoarsely.

Seeing his expression, Veda answered carefully. "She left yesterday and hasn't come back."

Percival's frown deepened.

That woman was getting more and more out of hand. Now she'd learned to stay out all night.

Percival had just sat down when he noticed Veda hesitating, as if she wanted to say something. He snapped impatiently, "If you have something to say, say it!"

Veda hesitated a moment longer, then forced the words out. "A law firm called earlier. Mrs. Churchill wants to divorce you..."

Percival's expression darkened instantly. He said in a low voice, "I understand. You can go."

Seeing the murderous look in his eyes, Veda said nothing more and scurried away.

After Veda left, Percival rubbed his temples in frustration. His phone suddenly began buzzing nonstop.

He frowned, picked it up, and saw a message from his assistant: [Mr. Churchill, a video started circulating this morning. I've sent it to your phone. Please take a look immediately.]

Percival opened the video. By the time he finished watching, his entire body trembled with rage. He hurled his phone violently to the floor.