God-Tier Agent: My Ex-Wife Forced a Divorce, I Saved Her Younger Sister Instead
Ryu · Ongoing · 10.5k Words
Introduction
The entire audience of celebrities burst into laughter, while the ex-wife's eyes were filled with the pleasure of revenge.
Without even lifting my eyelids, I dialed a number in front of everyone: "I'm going to bankrupt one person. Execution level: nuclear bomb."
They laughed at me for pretending to be crazy.
Three minutes later, the entire nation was in an uproar. Four billion dollars in assets were frozen, the FBI broke down the door, and the once arrogant tycoon collapsed to the ground like a dog.
I endured for three years, just to save her grandfather's life. Since she's in such a hurry to break the contract, I don't need to pretend anymore.
This is not just a story about divorce; it's a countdown to the gods regaining control of the Book of Life and Death on Earth.
Chapter 1
东洛杉矶的公寓楼总是弥漫着过期电视晚餐和廉价啤酒的味道。
我蹲在餐桌旁，用涂满机油的抹布擦拭扳手。
水槽堆满了三天没洗的碗碟，墙上的油漆在天花板角落裂开，露出发霉的水泥。
我能听到隔壁房间传来西班牙语争吵声，楼下有人放着震耳欲聋的说唱音乐。
这是洛杉矶最破败的社区之一。
门突然被推开了。
香奈儿5号香水的香气像毒气一样飘进来。
“签字。”
薇薇安·莱斯特——我的合法妻子——把一份文件重重地摔在油腻的桌子上。
她穿着一套黑色高级定制西装，手腕上的卡地亚手链在昏暗的灯光下闪闪发光。
离婚协议。
“三年，肖恩。”她用指甲敲了敲桌子。“三年来我忍受了这该死的贫民窟，忍受了你那让我想吐的脸。”
“我真不知道爷爷为什么逼我娶你！他坚持让我娶你三年，才能继承他的遗产！"
“终于，三年期限结束了！我，时尚女王薇薇安，回来了！"
我继续擦扳手，没抬头。
“你他妈聋了吗？”她的声音提高了。“理查德·沃伦，听说过他吗？好莱坞三大制片厂大亨之一，身价四十亿美元。他昨晚在比佛利山庄的屋顶向我求婚，戴着限量版的蒂芙尼钻戒。”
我放下扳手，瞥了一眼墙上的钟。
晚上11：59。
“你呢？”薇薇安俯身，用她那修长的食指戳了戳我的胸口。“你不过是个没用的水管工。你知道昨晚那个晚宴的门票多少吗？五万美元！你一年都赚不到！”
她从爱马斯包里掏出几百元钞票，像扔垃圾一样扔到我脸上。
“来，买张去德州的灰狗巴士票，然后回你那破烂的拖车营地去。”
钞票飘落在地。
我弯腰捡起它们，一块块地抚平，整齐叠好，放进她的包里。
“你——”她愣住了。
“我不需要施舍。”我的声音很平静。
“哈！”薇薇安冷笑起来。“你为什么要装得那么高高在上？你以为你是谁？让我告诉你，肖恩，贫穷不值得尊重;只会让你感到恶心！”
她走到窗边，指着外面的街道：“看这里！枪击案、毒贩、！这是你的世界！那我呢？我属于比佛利山庄！”
“我真不明白为什么那个愚蠢的女孩克洛伊总是保护你。”她转过身，眼中满是轻蔑。“上周她甚至和我争论，说你是个真正的男人，我不知道如何珍惜你。拜托，她根本不知道什么是上流社会！”
克洛伊。
我脑海中闪过那张脸——薇薇安的同父异母妹妹，二十三岁，在南加州大学学习艺术史。在那三年里，她是这座寒冷屋子里唯一给我端过热咖啡的人。
有一次，薇薇安当着朋友的面叫我“下水道鼠”，克洛伊脸红地站到我面前：“姐，够了！他也是个人！”
富家子弟笑得几乎要倒下，而薇薇安愤怒地扇了她一巴掌。
那天晚上，克洛伊脸上带着红痕，悄悄敲了敲我的门，递给我一杯热可可和一张纸条：
别听她的，肖恩。你是我见过最有男子气概的男人。
字迹歪斜凌乱，末尾画着笑脸。
你在想什么？
薇薇安抓起离婚文件，狠狠地砸在我面前。“签字！现在！现在！"
“理查德后天在比佛利山庄的订婚派对，我却得以单身身份出现！马尔蒙城堡的屋顶露台——一个你根本进不去的地方！”
我盯着那份文件，脑海飞速运转。
三年前，洛杉矶黑帮真正的教父亚瑟·莱斯特躺在圣心医院的病床上，用尽最后的力气抓住我的手。
“零......”他的声音像破碎的风箱，“我的孙女薇薇安不知道......不知道我是谁......她觉得我只是个......古董商......”
“你想让我保护她，”我说。
“三年。”他咳出了血。“她的父母死于帮派战争......敌人仍在寻找莱斯特家族血脉......用婚姻......给她一个干净的身份......”
“清场。”
三年后......你自由了......别恨她......她不知道真相......
他的手松开了，心电图显示出一条直线。
我同意了。
因为亚瑟·莱斯特救了我的命。
So for those three years, I endured all the humiliation.
Her friends laughed at her for fixing water pipes and unclogging sewers.
I disguised myself as a complete loser, a worthless piece of trash who didn't deserve her.
And now—
The clock on the wall jumped to zero.
The three-year term has come to an end.
I picked up the ballpoint pen on the table.
"You've finally figured it out?" Vivian smiled smugly. "It should have been done a long time ago—"
I signed my name.
The pen tip glides smoothly across the paper without any pause.
Then push the agreement back.
Vivian's smile froze.
"You..." She looked at me in disbelief, "You just...signed? You didn't try to stop me? You didn't beg me?"
I stood up and picked up the faded black jacket from the back of the chair.
"Wait!" She suddenly grabbed my arm. "You should... I mean... most men would beg me not to go..."
I looked down at her.
A flicker of panic crossed her eyes.
"Take your trash." I shook off her hand. "From now on, your life or death is none of my business."
I walked past her.
"You bastard!" she screamed from behind, her voice cracking. "Who else do you think you can find after me? You're a loser for life! Do you hear me? You're a complete and utter failure!"
The door slammed shut amidst her roar.
The corridor was quiet.
I walked into the stairwell, where rainwater leaked from the broken skylight, accumulating into puddles of sewage on the concrete floor.
I lit a cigarette.
Something was vibrating in my pocket.
I pulled out the black satellite phone—an encrypted communication device that had been dormant for three whole years. The screen lit up with a ghostly green light.
A line of characters pops up:
【CONTRACT FULFILLED. WELCOME BACK, ZERO.】
(Contract complete. Welcome back, Zero.)
Sender: PENTAGON//SPEC-OPS-CMD//LEVEL-9
(Pentagon // Special Operations Command // Level 9 Authority)
I had just put the satellite phone away when the regular smartphone in my other pocket rang.
The screen displays: Unknown caller ID.
I answered it.
"Mr. Sean." A woman's voice came from the other end of the phone, mature, calm, and with a British accent. "I am Elena Grey, Mr. Arthur's legal counsel."
"I know who you are."
"So you should also know that the three-year contract has expired." She paused. "I need to confirm—are you willing to continue performing protection duties?"
I exhaled a puff of smoke.
"No."
"Understood." Her tone was flat, clearly expecting this. "Then, according to the agreement, you need to conduct a formal handover. Three days from now, at nine o'clock in the evening, on the rooftop terrace of the Chateau Marmont Hotel in Beverly Hills. James Harrison will be waiting for you there."
"Three days later?"
"Yes. It's Miss Lester's engagement party," Elena said. "James will be there as an old friend of her grandfather, so it won't arouse suspicion. You just need to show up discreetly, complete the document signing and the handover of items."
What a coincidence! I laughed.
"Is there a problem?" she asked.
"No," I said, "I'll go."
"Very good." Elena paused for a moment. "Mr. Sean, on behalf of Mr. Arthur, I thank you for your efforts over the past three years. You kept your promise and protected an unsuspecting girl. The Leicester family will forever remember this kindness."
"She doesn't need to know."
"I understand," Elena said softly. "May you...be free."
The call ended.
I stood in the stairwell, watching my phone screen slowly go dark.
this world for the last time as "Sean Carter" .
Then it disappeared completely.
And Zero—
Zero will come back.
I threw the cigarette butt into a puddle and disappeared into the rain.
The city will soon remember my name.
That name it should have forgotten forever.
Zero.
The codename for Death.
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