Chapter 4

The celebration banquet was held at Emerald City's most exclusive seven-star hotel. Crystal chandeliers bathed the ballroom in glittering light as elegantly dressed guests mingled, champagne flutes clinking in a symphony of success.

This would be Jessica's final event as Director of Public Relations for Smith Entertainment.

She wore a crisp black business suit, moving through the venue with practiced efficiency, orchestrating her team to ensure every detail was flawless. Heavy foundation concealed the pallor chemotherapy had brought to her skin, while she forced down wave after wave of stabbing pain in her stomach.

She operated like a perfectly calibrated machine, her professional smile impeccable and unchanging.

The evening's stars were Stanley and Lydia.

At eight o'clock sharp, they made their entrance together, instantly commanding every eye in the room.

Stanley cut a striking figure in a bespoke black tuxedo, his posture impeccable, his features devastatingly handsome.

Beside him, Lydia wore a bold red strapless gown, its train studded with crystals that caught the light with every movement, making her look radiant and captivating.

Stanley was attentive to her every need—shielding her from the crush of eager reporters, leaning close to whisper in her ear with an expression of tenderness Jessica had never seen directed at herself.

They stood together like a picture-perfect couple, basking in congratulations and envious glances from all sides.

Jessica watched from a distance, feeling an invisible hand crushing her heart until she could barely breathe.

She was Mrs. Smith, the legitimate wife, yet here she stood like an outsider, relegated to the shadows while her husband played the devoted lover to another woman.

She drew a deep breath, picked up a champagne flute, adjusted her expression, and approached them in her professional capacity.

"Mr. Smith, Ms. Moore." She inclined her head slightly, her smile polished and distant. "The media interview area is ready whenever you'd like to proceed."

Stanley's gaze landed on her, and what little warmth remained instantly evaporated, leaving only scrutiny and irritation. "Do I really need to make decisions about such trivial matters?"

Jessica's fingers curled slightly at her sides, her heart pierced with fresh pain.

Before she could respond, Lydia linked her arm intimately through Stanley's and laughed sweetly. "Stanley, don't be so harsh. Jessica must be exhausted from organizing this whole event—just look how pale she is."

She turned to Jessica, her eyes gleaming with the smug pity of a victor. "Jessica, you've worked so hard. Oh, tell me—do you like my dress? Stanley had it specially made for me."

Jessica's gaze was forced to the other woman, then froze completely.

Lydia raised her hand, seemingly casual as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, revealing a ring on her fourth finger.

It was a men's style platinum band, simple and elegant, with just two parallel grooves etched around the circumference.

Jessica's pupils contracted sharply. Every drop of blood in her veins seemed to freeze solid.

She would recognize that ring until her dying day.

It was the ring she'd designed herself at eighteen, staying up countless nights perfecting the sketches before commissioning the city's finest jeweler to craft it. The ring she'd gathered all her courage to present to Stanley as a confession of love. The symbol of her doomed, one-sided devotion.

She would never forget Stanley's expression when she'd given it to him—the warmth draining from his eyes, replaced by cold fury.

He'd berated her for being ridiculous, told her to "remember her place."

The ring he'd thrown to the ground in disgust, the embodiment of all her humiliation and shame, now rested comfortably on Lydia's finger.

So he didn't hate the ring itself. He just hated receiving it from her.

He hadn't discarded it. He'd simply saved it for the woman he actually loved.

Jessica felt herself drifting, detached from reality. How much must Stanley despise her to punish her this way—to take the last shreds of her dignity and love and grind them beneath his heel?

Memories flashed through her mind like a film on fast-forward. He'd fought for her, spent a fortune on specialists for her, named a star after her... All that devotion had made her believe she was special.

But in the end, it had all become the sharpest blade, cutting her to pieces with deliberate cruelty.

The familiar pain tore through her chest again, more violent than ever before.

Yet paradoxically, the intensity brought a strange clarity.

This was good.

This was for the best.

Every hope, every fragile dream—all of it shattered completely in this moment.

Nothing left to cling to.

"It's beautiful," Jessica heard herself say, her voice eerily calm. She looked up, meeting Stanley's eyes directly. "You two make a perfect pair."

Stanley frowned at her scrutiny. Her eyes, which had always held adoration and dependence, were now utterly lifeless, like stagnant water in an ancient well.

"What game are you playing now?" he demanded coldly.

Jessica only smiled faintly, an expression tinged with something he couldn't quite read—liberation, perhaps, mixed with profound sorrow.

Without another word, she turned and walked toward the terrace.

The evening breeze was cool, dispersing the scent of alcohol clinging to her and clearing her foggy mind.

She pulled out her phone and looked at the flight reservation she'd made days ago—her ticket abroad. Her resolve hardened.

Halfway through the banquet, Jessica found a moment to intercept Stanley as he headed toward the VIP lounge.

"Mr. Smith." She positioned herself directly in his path, her composure absolute.

Stanley stopped impatiently. "What now?"

"I want a divorce."

Her tone was utterly calm, yet the words struck like thunder.

He froze, then his lips curved into a mocking smile, as if he'd heard the world's most ridiculous joke. "Jessica, who do you think you are? Wasn't your resignation tantrum enough? Now you're trying to threaten me with divorce?"

"I'm not threatening you." Jessica raised her eyes to meet his shocked, angry gaze with perfect serenity. "I'm serious. I'll have the divorce papers drawn up immediately. Give me your attorney's contact information—my lawyer will coordinate directly with him."

Her cold determination ignited an inexplicable fury in Stanley's chest.

This woman had always been obedient, compliant. When had she dared speak to him in this tone?

He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming and intimidating, his voice sharp. "Jessica, I'm warning you—drop whatever scheme you're cooking up. Want a divorce? Dream on."

What gave her the right to decide when their marriage began and ended on her whim?

After all these years together, Stanley couldn't quite define his feelings for Jessica. Love seemed too strong a word, but he couldn't call it indifference either. The thought of Jessica leaving him and belonging to another man someday, sparked an uncomfortable irritation deep inside.

These conflicting emotions tangled together, creating an unbearable friction.

But Jessica simply looked at him, her eyes devoid of any emotion.

She said quietly, "Stanley, I'm not asking for your permission. I'm informing you."