Chapter 3

"Stay away from her. If I ever catch you messing with her, I swear, your life’s gonna be hell." Those words hit like a slap in the face. So that’s how he sees me? Just some crazy, jealous woman from the start? I glared at his cold, handsome face, biting back my bitterness. "Wow, not only are your ears broken, but your brain's probably fried too. If I wanted to hurt her, would I really blow up my own game like that?" "I'm done arguing with you. Tired, honestly. Just want to make it clear—I’m getting out of this marriage. I’ll explain things to Grandpa, won’t drag you into it, but you better think this through." Then I pulled my hand free and went straight upstairs, not even bothering to clean up the dishes. A loud door slam followed a few beats later. Ronald must’ve stormed out. I let out a long, tired sigh. Even after coming back to life, his words still cut deep. Thank god it’s just a sting now, not like last time—when it tore me apart. I downed my medicine and got ready to lie down and clear my head. Just as I settled in, my phone lit up. It was my mother-in-law. I pressed my lips together and picked up. "Hello? Lisa." Her loud, energetic voice blasted through. "Isabella, have you been taking those herbal remedies I got you? And the other natural stuff?" I stared at the pile of untouched herbs in the corner, still wrapped up. "Yep, almost all gone." Lisa Wright immediately perked up. "Really? Any signs yet? Feeling different? Could be pregnant?" I sighed. A whole year of marriage and she’s been on my back about a baby since day one. With the divorce around the corner, I really didn’t want more drama. "Lisa, pregnancy depends on fate too, right? If it’s not meant to be, can’t really force it." I tried to explain nicely, hoping she’d drop it. But of course, no such luck. "Don’t give me that ‘fate’ nonsense. Isabella, get real. Look at yourself—looks, background, skills—what part of you even matches up to my son? "I only agreed to this marriage so you’d give us a baby. You think you’re some kind of princess now? "If you're just going to sit there like a broken machine, then step aside. Plenty of women are dying for a shot at this family." Her rant finally pushed me past my breaking point. I used to be the perfect daughter-in-law for her—ultra polite, super obedient. I even treated her better than my own mom. She humiliated me constantly about not getting pregnant. But I put up with it, all for Ronald. But now? Don’t even want Ronald anymore. Why the hell should I care what she thinks? "You think having a baby is up to me alone? Ever use your brain and take a good look at your precious son? "Yeah, he’s got the looks, the family, the job… but too bad he can’t even get it up. "Been married a year and I’m still a virgin. How do you expect a baby when your son’s thing can’t even function? "You want a grandkid so bad? Want me to find someone else and pop one out for you? Hell, I’d do it—question is, dare you take that baby in?" Dead silence. Guess she didn’t expect me to clap back. "You—you’re vulgar! Can’t have a baby and now you talk back too?" I let out a cold laugh. Classic Lisa—can dish it but sure can’t take it. "I said it already—your son’s the one with the problem." "You’ve got all this time to nag me with tonics and baby talk, maybe go take your boy to the doctor. And while you’re at it, get your brain checked too."I hung up right after I finished talking and even switched off my phone, then flopped onto the bed with a big sigh and rolled around like a kid. Man, this feels so damn good. Getting divorced really does feel like freedom unlocked. Once you give up caring, life gets a whole lot easier. From now on, anyone who wants to put up with this kind of crap can go right ahead—count me out. After an exhausting day, I passed out quickly. When I woke up, it was already ten at night. I went downstairs. The whole villa was pitch dark, like I expected—Ronald didn’t plan on coming back, just like last time around. I smirked, not surprised at all. Quietly, I cleaned up the dishes and made myself a fancy dinner. I’m never starving myself again for someone else. That’s just plain stupid. After I finished eating, I packed my stuff without a second thought and left the place I’d once poured my heart into. I checked into a hotel for the time being. Tomorrow’s big—I’ve got divorce to handle, and another super important thing I can’t afford to mess up. Success only, no plan B. Next morning, I was woken up by a call from Ronald. "Isabella!" he practically growled through his teeth, "What did you say to my mom last night?" Still half out of it, I rubbed my head and tried to recall the chat I’d had with his dear mother… and before I could help it, I burst out laughing. "Didn’t you already get the memo? Why bother asking?" "Oh right, any idea when your mom wants to drag you in for a check-up?" He didn’t respond right away, but I could easily picture him—face dark, probably throwing death glares. Sure enough, he finally spoke again, voice low and chilly. "Isabella, save your tricks. Doesn’t work on me. I’m not interested in sleeping with you." I stretched lazily and turned over, completely relaxed. "Please. Don’t flatter yourself. I’m not dying to sleep with you either." He snorted coldly. "Let’s hope it stays that way. Where are you? And why the hell isn’t breakfast ready?" I snapped my eyes open, grinding my teeth. This guy treats me like garbage but still expects me to cook for him like clockwork? Not gonna lie, I used to care way too much—Ronald never liked breakfast, and I was so worried about his stomach I busted my ass learning how to cook right. Irony? I ended up with the digestive issues. We might’ve had a dead marriage, but he actually loved my cooking. I used to take that as a sign, that maybe deep down he still cared. Now I know better. He saw me as his full-time, live-in maid. Well, news flash—I’m done cooking for him. For good. He must’ve gotten impatient waiting for my reply. "You gonna answer or what?" I said flatly, "Go to the second floor. There’s something on the table." A moment later, I heard him coming up the stairs. His voice, cold and annoyed, followed. "Why are you being so difficult lately? I say one thing, you do the opposite. And why is breakfast on the second floor? You know I always eat on the—" His footsteps suddenly stopped. So did his rant. It was like he just vanished into thin air. There was a long pause on the other end before Ronald spoke again, voice sharp and heavy. "Isabella… what’s with the divorce agreement?" Before leaving last night, I left two copies of the papers on the table. No point dragging this mess on. In my head, I could almost imagine his face right now—tight-jawed, and probably looking like he swallowed a lemon. I felt strangely calm. Honestly? Even kind of proud. "Exactly what it looks like. I’ve signed it already. Don’t worry—I’m walking away with nothing. Not a cent from you." "From now on, you go your way, I’ll go mine. Marriage over. Let's make sure we never see each other again."