Chapter 2

Theodore's handsome face darkened with fury, his eyes glacial.

Yasmin's heart seized. She understood instantly—Scarlett had done this deliberately. Provoked her emotions, forced her to lash out, all so she could play the victim in front of Theodore. Make him feel sorry for her. Make him despise Yasmin even more.

Her palm burned from the force of the slap, but Yasmin felt zero regret. If anything, she hadn't hit her hard enough.

Yasmin watched Scarlett immediately switch personas, shrinking behind Theodore all fragile and wounded, as if she'd suffered some tremendous humiliation. "Theo... Miss White seems to have misunderstood our relationship."

Theodore turned to Yasmin, his tone harsh. "Apologize to Scar."

Apologize? Yasmin's lips curved into a bitter smile dripping with mockery. This was the man she'd shared a bed with for three years. How pathetic.

"You want me to apologize to a homewrecker who crashed my marriage? She's not worth it!"

Theodore's expression turned colder. "Yasmin, don't forget your place. You're just a tool I used for a business alliance. At least Scar has independence and self-respect. You don't measure up to her."

Yasmin looked up at him, stunned into silence. So in his eyes, she'd always been nothing but a doormat.

Theodore's fingers twitched, a flash of regret crossing his features. But he convinced himself he'd only spoken the truth. In the end, he stared at her coldly, shielding Scarlett protectively behind him. "Had enough? Scar is important to the Prescott family. I don't hit women, but your tantrums have limits!"

Even now, he thought she was just throwing a fit. Yasmin's chest ached. Three years of marriage, always dignified and gentle—had that made him think she was some soft-hearted fool to be bullied?

The lawyer arrived through the rain, handing documents to Yasmin. She didn't take them, gesturing for him to give them to Theodore instead. "Perfect timing. This is the drafted divorce agreement. Take a look. If there's no objection, sign it."

Theodore's tall frame froze. He didn't accept the documents, just stared at Yasmin with inscrutable eyes, clearly not expecting her to be serious.

Yasmin suppressed the hurt churning inside. "This marriage is pointless. I'll step aside for her. Is that acceptable?"

Theodore's lips curved mockingly. "Yasmin, you want a divorce? Will the White family agree?" He knew the White family too well—their opportunism. Having latched onto the Prescott family tree, they'd never let go.

Yasmin knew it too. Her parents would never stand up for her hurt feelings against Theodore. They'd only force her to grovel and apologize.

Perhaps sensing her momentary hesitation, Theodore smiled dismissively. But Yasmin's next words wiped the certainty from his face. "What if my parents agree? Would you sign?"

Theodore's eyes narrowed, inexplicable irritation rising in his chest. Was she threatening him? Acting like he couldn't bear to divorce her. He looked at Yasmin, his presence oppressive. "Of course."

He'd found Yasmin obedient and considerate these three years, but she wasn't irreplaceable. If she wanted out, fine. He wasn't that attached anyway.

But then he added, his tone dripping with condescension. "Divorce is fine, but you won't get a penny of Prescott assets. You've been a pampered Mrs. Prescott for three years with zero contribution to the family. No children either. You're entitled to nothing."

Yasmin pressed her lips together. His words were swords, puncturing three years of what she'd thought was meaningful devotion. In his eyes, her full-time dedication meant nothing. She felt like a joke.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and when she opened them, only composure remained. "Fine."

Theodore's expression darkened. He hadn't expected her to agree so readily, as if desperate for freedom. His lips pressed into a thin line. "Suit yourself." With that, he pulled Scarlett away to escort her back to her room, not sparing Yasmin another glance.

Yasmin bit her lip and left with the lawyer without looking back.

……

The next day, news of Yasmin and Theodore's divorce swept through high society circles. Her phone blew up with calls from acquaintances and strangers alike, all probing for truth. After all, her image as someone deeply in love with Theodore had been firmly established over the years.

Her parents' calls came one after another, the couple taking turns trying to persuade her to reconcile with the Prescott family. "What tantrum are you throwing now? Do you have any idea how this divorce will impact both families' stock prices?!" Her father's rebuke rang especially loud.

Her mother chimed in. "What man doesn't cheat? Just keep your position as Mrs. Prescott. Some woman who can't show her face in public—how does she threaten you? Be magnanimous. Show the dignity of a proper wife."

Her family only cared about profits, only urged her to endure, completely disregarding her feelings. Everyone assumed she was just throwing a fit. No one believed she'd willingly give up the lifestyle of a wealthy wife.

Yasmin didn't argue, just said calmly, "I want a divorce."

"Impossible." Her father's voice was final. "Unless your mother and I are dead, you're not getting divorced. Don't bring this up again!"

Her parents immediately froze her trust fund, canceled her credit cards, and reclaimed her properties—using every method to force her compliance. But Yasmin refused to bow her head.

Since that unpleasant parting at the hotel, Yasmin hadn't contacted Theodore. Outside gossip continued unabated, mixed with rumors of Theodore accompanying Scarlett to buy furniture and build their love nest.

To say it didn't hurt would be a lie. That was someone she'd genuinely loved. Her heart felt like it had been stabbed full of holes, blood seeping out, the pain piercing. But no amount of pain could change the fact that he'd cheated.

Yasmin calmly turned off her news notifications, transferred what little money she had in her phone to Shawn Gray as rent for staying at his place, then sent Theodore the revised divorce agreement from her lawyer.

Theodore's reply came quickly—just two words: [I'm busy.] Dismissive and condescending. Yasmin's temper flared.

A week later, Yasmin found a new job and received a call from Theodore's secretary, Grant. "Ma'am, Mrs. Prescott's birthday banquet is in three days. Your attendance is required."

Yasmin shot back "Not available" as payback and hung up.

But the next morning, packaged formal wear and jewelry appeared at her doorstep—Grant's signature on the label, noting they were prepared for Mrs. Marigold Prescott's birthday banquet. Yasmin glanced at them with disgust, leaving everything by the door, completely ignoring it.

On the day of the banquet, Yasmin came home from work to a call from Marigold. "Yasmin dear, why haven't you come back? I miss you. My health hasn't been good lately, and I keep hoping you'll come see me."

Yasmin couldn't bear to lie to the old woman who'd always cherished her. After a long silence, she said slowly, "Grandma, didn't Theodore tell you we're getting divorced?"

Congratulatory voices rose and fell on the other end. Marigold seemed not to have heard clearly and said happily, "What? You're coming right away? Then I'll have Theo pick you up!" Yasmin was speechless. Just as she was about to refuse, the call ended.

The evening was cool. Yasmin ultimately pulled on the wine-red satin gown and sent Theodore's driver her address, waiting by the roadside for the car. She'd never imagined Theodore himself would come—in their three years together, he'd never shared a car with her.

The black sedan stopped in front of her. The window rolled down, revealing Theodore's handsome profile, half his features hidden in shadow, his presence overwhelmingly oppressive. Yasmin's gaze met his, not noticing the flash of stunned admiration in his eyes.

Theodore had always known Yasmin was beautiful, but she rarely wore such bold colors. The wine red made her strikingly radiant, her lips vivid but not vulgar—instead emanating an otherworldly elegance.

Remembering Marigold's insistence that he pick her up, combined with the White family's recent attempts at reconciliation and Yasmin's outfit today, Theodore's eyes deepened. He became convinced she wanted to back down but couldn't swallow her pride, so she'd used Marigold to test the waters.

His expression eased slightly, a hint of satisfaction rising in his chest. He knew it—Yasmin couldn't bear to leave him. Tantrum or not, ultimately she still wanted to return to his side.

Outwardly, he remained aloof, uttering just two words. "Get in." Theodore had made up his mind—this time he'd teach Yasmin a lesson, temper that attitude of hers. As for why he'd personally come to pick her up, he frowned with irritation. Simply because Marigold had specifically instructed him to. What a hassle.