"Divorce."
After three years of marriage, the man's words were as cold and curt as ever, spoken with no trace of emotion.
Chelsea stood behind Altsin, staring at his tall, imposing figure reflected in the floor-to-ceiling windows. Seeing his stern and cold face, she felt her heart plummeting.
Her hands, hanging by her sides, clenched into trembling fists.
The word she feared most had finally come.
Altsin turned around, his features becoming more distinct. His perfectly chiseled face, sharp and handsome, still made her heart race even after three years.
"Can we not divorce?"
Chelsea forced the words from her throat, her eyes brimming with a fragile hope that was quickly fading.
Altsin's brows furrowed, his cold eyes pausing on her bare face, finally settling on her reddened eyes, his expression tightening once more.
Even without makeup, Chelsea was beautiful. She wasn’t a striking beauty, but her fair, flawless skin and pure, gentle features made her look comfortable and appealing.
She gazed at him with wide, clear, desperate eyes, a mole beneath her right eye, and her long black hair cascading softly by her ears, making her appear completely delicate.
But to Altsin, she was a soft and dull woman.
As a wife, she had no major flaws, but he simply did not love her.
Three years ago, after a car accident left him paraplegic, doctors said he might never walk again. At that time, he was forced to separate from the woman he loved. His mother insisted he marry a doctor or a caregiver to care for him for life, so he chose Chelsea from among his admirers—a quiet caregiver with no background, who was quiet and obedient.
"You’ve been with me and taken care of me for three years. Ten million dollars should be fair compensation."
As he spoke, his eyes remained impassive, devoid of any affection. "Or you want something else…"
"Why?"
For the first time, Chelsea interrupted him, her red-rimmed eyes showing a glimmer of stubbornness and…resentment. "Why do you have to bring up divorce now?
Tomorrow was their third wedding anniversary, and she had planned so much—she even thought, they could be together forever.
"You know, the one I love isn't you."
His words was cold and cruel. He didn’t even leave her a glimmer of hope. "Blake is back, and I’m going to marry her."
Chelsea felt like she had been struck by lightning. Her frail frame couldn’t bear the weight, and she staggered.
She had guarded this marriage for three years, only to be defeated by her return.
"Sir…"
The butler hurried over to report, "Ms. Thornwood just vomited up and coughed up blood!"
A crack appeared in the man's calm demeanor. He turned away from Chelsea towards the guest room and spoke in a low voice, "Prepare the car. We're going to the hospital."
Shortly after, Altsin emerged from the guest room, carrying a woman in his arms. She was slender and frail, draped in an embroidered blanket that Chelsea herself had stitched.
Pale and sickly, as if she could disappear from this world at any moment, the woman nestled in Altsin's arms whispered, "Altsin, Ms. Hayes…"
Altsin paused at the turn of the stairs, turned to Chelsea, and said, "Details of the divorce will be discussed with you by the lawyer. You have three days to move out of the mansion."
With that, he gently lifted the woman in his arms again and descended the stairs without looking back.
Chelsea stood at the staircase, Blake lying in Altsin's arms, looking up at her with eyes full of triumphant light.
Just an hour ago, this sickly woman had smiled at her and said, "I’m back now, so please return Altsin to me."
As their figures disappeared completely, Chelsea collapsed, her tears silently streaming down her face. She held herself tightly, feeling the coldness seeping into her bones.
Ten years.
From the moment he rescued her from hell until now, she had silently watched over him for ten years, loved him for ten years. How many ten-year periods did one have in a lifetime?
But he didn't love her. No matter how humble she was, she couldn’t move his heart, couldn’t make him love her.
"Altsin, this is the last time I’ll cry for you."
Chelsea wiped away the icy tears, stood up from the ground, her once delicate and fragile demeanor now icy cold. Determination gleamed in her eyes.
It was time to leave.
The divorce agreement lay conspicuously on the bedside table in the master bedroom.
Chelsea flipped to the last page and saw the familiar signature. Her gaze flickered, and she delicately traced the name "Altsin" with her fingers, feeling a pang in her heart.
She sniffed back the surge of tears, refusing to linger, and picked up the pen to sign her own name—Chelsea Hayes.
Since it began with this surname, it would end with the same.
Chelsea placed a ring on the bedside table. It had taken her nearly a year from selecting the material to purchasing the sapphire, to completing the carving. This was the meticulously prepared third anniversary gift for him.
In fact, over the past three years, she had given him many gifts, all meticulously prepared, but in the end, they all ended up unused in the closet or thrown directly into the trash, just like her sincere heart towards him.
As she walked out of the villa, a black luxury car was parked on the side of the road. Chelsea got in, and said lightly, "I’m divorced."
In the driver's seat, a man wearing sunglasses smirked. "Congratulations on regaining your freedom."
He handed a laptop to Chelsea. "It's time to be yourself again. We've all been waiting for your return."
