“Let’s get a divorce.”

Ulrich Pemberton set the divorce papers on the table, his expression cold and distant, like this had nothing to do with him.

Lydia Grayson’s smile froze in place, the kind that had been trying way too hard. “Ulrich… what did you just say? I—I must’ve heard wrong.”

He didn’t bother repeating himself. Instead, he slid a check across the table.

“Fifty million. Think of it as compensation for the last three years.”

Lydia’s lips trembled. It took her a long moment before her voice finally squeezed out, hoarse and shaky. “Can we not… divorce? If you think I did something wrong, I can fix it. I’ll change—”

Ulrich didn’t even blink. His dark eyes stayed locked on her pale face, flat and unreadable, like he was staring at a stranger.

“Lydia, don’t forget. The only reason I married you was so you could hold Wendy’s place as Mrs. Pemberton.”

“Now that Wendy is back, everything should go back to the way it was.”

A sharp buzzing roared in Lydia’s head. For a second, the whole world went blank, like she was falling straight off a cliff with no end in sight.

Right… how could she have forgotten?

He married her only because the woman he actually loved had been too sick, and the Pemberton family would never accept someone that frail as their daughter-in-law.

So he chose her—someone with no background, no backing, no threat. A temporary stand-in who could vacate the Mrs. Pemberton title the moment his beloved recovered.

And now that Wendy Templeton had returned healthy and glowing, her role as the substitute was officially over.

“But… I love you!”

Her voice cracked as she stared at him, panic spilling from her eyes. Tears she could no longer control slid down her cheeks.

From the moment he pulled her out of the water all those years ago, she’d fallen for him.

Three whole years.

Her empty memories had been filled up by him. If she lost him, she had no idea what part of herself would be left.

“You know very well,” he said, voice calm to the point of cruelty, “I never loved you.”

Seeing her tears, Ulrich Pemberton frowned, but his voice stayed icy, distant to the point of being merciless. There wasn’t a trace of hesitation or warmth left for her.

“After you sign, my lawyer will take care of everything else.”

“You know how I am. Don’t cling to me, and don’t pull any stunts.”

“And another thing. I don’t want you showing up in front of Wendy anymore. You’ll just upset her.”

Lydia Grayson’s vision blurred. His cold, heartless words kept echoing in her ears, each one slicing into her like a sharpened blade. The pain was so sharp her whole body trembled.

Right then, the assistant rushed in, panic in his voice. “Sir, a call just came from Jingyuan. Miss Wendy saw the photos the madam sent—photos of you and her being intimate. She passed out on the spot.”

For the first time, a crack formed on Ulrich’s usually composed expression. He shot up from his seat and strode toward the door. “Get the car. We’re going back to Jingyuan.”

After two steps, he suddenly stopped and turned. His gaze hit Lydia like a blast of winter air, cold and sharp enough to cut.

“Lydia, you’d better pray Wendy’s okay. Otherwise, you’ll regret this for the rest of your life.”

“No, I didn’t—” Lydia panicked, stumbling after him, grabbing his arm in desperation. She didn’t even know Wendy had returned to the country—how could she have sent any intimate photos?

“Get lost!” Ulrich shook her off with disgust. She lost her balance and crashed to the floor, her head slamming hard against the sharp edge of the table. Blood spilled instantly, warm and sticky.

Ulrich’s fingers twitched, but he only cast her a cold, indifferent glance before turning away without a single pause.

Soon, the villa grew silent. Only Lydia was left.

After who knew how long, she finally lifted her head. Blood slid down from her forehead, adding an eerie twist to her usually delicate features.

She stared at the wide-open villa door, eyes half-lidded, a thin smile curling at her lips.

“Lydia, Lydia… look at you now.”

She pushed herself up, shot a casual glance at the divorce papers on the table, and signed her name with a fierce, cutting stroke.

Then she took out her phone and dialed a number.

“It’s me.”

“Who the hell are you?” a young man snapped, clearly annoyed.

Lydia Grayson arched a brow. “Jasper Harrington, are you itching for trouble again?”

A sudden bang blasted through the phone, followed by a man’s pained grunt. After a burst of chaotic crashing, his shocked yell finally came through. “What the—Lydia, you’re not dead?!”

Lydia narrowed her eyes. “I’ll give you one chance to rephrase that.”

“Ahem—what I meant was, welcome back, my dear young lady!”

She hung up. After cleaning the cut on her forehead, she headed upstairs to pack her personal things.

From a drawer, she lifted a small ring box. Inside lay an exquisitely crafted men’s ring.

She had designed and made it herself as a third‑anniversary gift. She’d actually planned to give it to Ulrich Pemberton today.

A cold laugh slipped from her. She tossed the ring into the trash.

Along with it went the brain she’d apparently let a dog chew on for the past three years.

The dignified first heir of the Grayson family… and she’d spent years bowing and scraping in front of Ulrich, pathetic and humble, just for a scrap of affection.

The thought alone made her want to drag out the bastard who caused her to fall into the sea and lose her memory—and tear him apart piece by piece.

So useless. So unbelievably stupid.

After gathering her things, she flipped open her laptop. Her fingers flew across the keys, and within moments she’d hacked into the surveillance system of Jingyuan.

Just as she expected—there it was, a thief crying thief.

Watching the footage, seeing that delicate, soft‑spoken woman expertly instruct someone to send intimate photos under her name; then the dramatic disbelief and “heartbroken” suffering when she saw those same photos; and finally the oh‑so‑perfect fainting spell… Lydia couldn’t help a sharp, mocking laugh.

She’d thought Ulrich was into some pure, graceful socialite. Turns out he liked full‑time drama queens with a halo filter.

She touched her still‑aching forehead, her smile turning icy.

Ulrich had saved her once. She married him to help him deal with the Pemberton family—that had been a fair trade. But this injury? This was different.

No one gets to set her up, hurt her, and then walk around like they’re innocent.

After all, Lydia Grayson always pays people back—down to the very last drop.

Two hours later, a line of luxury cars pulled up outside the villa, instantly drawing the neighbors to their windows, whispering and craning their necks.

A moment later, a strikingly handsome young man stepped out of the limited‑edition supercar at the center of the convoy. He slid off his sunglasses and opened his arms toward Lydia Grayson, who had just walked out of the villa. His grin was bold and flamboyant, like he owned the whole street.

“Sweetheart, long time no see.”

Lydia, wearing a baseball cap with her hands tucked casually in her pockets, strolled toward him at an unhurried pace. She gave him a quick head‑to‑toe look, her expression full of picky disdain. “It’s been a few years, and somehow you managed to get even uglier.”

She said that, but she still stepped in and hugged him tightly.

“How could I not get ugly? You disappeared, and I basically wasted away missing you,” Jasper Harrington replied, sounding utterly wronged. But the way he clung to her arm and the spark in his eyes told a completely different story—he was delighted, almost burning with it.

Lydia clicked her tongue, gently pushed him aside, and got into the car.

“I’m serious! Ever since you went missing, I haven’t slept worth a damn,” Jasper hurried after her, looking tragically dramatic.

The supercar roared to life moments later, and the entire convoy sped off, leaving behind a street full of gossiping voices.

“Isn’t that the young madam of the Pemberton family? Who was that guy picking her up? That was insane.”

“I know him. That was the second young master of the Harringtons! I can’t believe he’s close with the Pemberton young madam!”

“Close? Please. With how cozy they looked, they might as well have kissed right there…”