Four Loveless Years, One Unforgettable Goodbye

Taking a deep breath, Willa forced her composure back into place before flagging down a cab to the villa. By the time she arrived, Bryan had already been home, immersed in work inside the study.

When she pushed the door open, his icy gaze lifted, and a deep frown etched across his brow.

"Seriously? You can't even knock before storming in?" His voice carried a cold edge of irritation.

Bitterness welled up inside her, but she kept her expression composed. With a sharp motion, she swung the door shut so hard it rattled on its hinges.

A moment later, her knuckles pounded against the wood again—each strike louder, angrier, as though she might tear the entire door down.

Five long minutes crawled by before his voice came, clipped and low. "Come in."

Her breathing steadied as she stepped inside, holding out a few freshly printed photos of Bryan and Caylee from the hospital. "Is this you?"

Bryan barely spared them a glance. "If your eyes still work," he said flatly, "then you already know the answer."

Grinding her teeth, Willa demanded sharply, "Do you seriously have nothing to say for yourself?"

He finally looked up, his expression carved from ice. "Why should I explain myself? Our marriage was founded on coercion, not love—a fact you are well aware of."

Her gaze dropped to the faint red marks peeking out from his collar—obvious traces of another woman.

The sight froze her in place. After several trembling seconds, she managed a rasped whisper. "Bryan…"

He ignored the tremor in her voice, turned another page, and said flatly, "If you've got nothing better to do, go iron the clothes I left in the bedroom."

A sneer escaped her.

"Let's get a divorce," she hissed. "Since you hate me, we should end this."

The corners of Bryan's eyes tightened, a trace of mockery in his gaze as if he couldn't believe what he'd heard. "What did you just say?"

Her voice trembled at first, but steadied as she went on, "I said I want a divorce. First the fireworks display in the news, and now taking her to her prenatal checkup? I've had enough."

Every week, she'd accompanied him back to Scott Mansion, smiling on cue for Cody's sake, maintaining the illusion of a harmonious marriage. The charade had long worn her down.

Their union had started as a repayment of an old debt between their grandfathers. Yet after four years of her earnest effort, she had hoped that even his frostbitten heart might thaw a little.

Instead, he'd remained unchanged—and now another woman carried his child.

She couldn't keep up the pretense anymore.

Bryan leaned back, his expression unreadable. "Why are you throwing a tantrum? Caylee needed a checkup, and I took her out to see some fireworks afterward. What? You have an issue with that?"

His tone stayed cold and detached, like always—devoid of even a flicker of warmth.

Willa met his gaze head-on. "Do you have any idea where I almost ended up that night after leaving the Scott Mansion? Do you even realize that if it hadn't been for that car crash, I'd have been sexually assaulted by another man and kicked out of the Scott family?"

Bryan's eyes flicked toward her, icy and unreadable, yet every word that followed cut deep. "Martin used that so-called favor to secure this marriage for you. If you were really involved in a scandal, even if my family drove you away, you'd have no right to complain."

He made no move to clarify what he and Caylee truly were. To him, it wasn't worth the effort.

Her lashes trembled as old memories surged—how she'd first seen him at a university lecture, standing before a crowd in a dark, fitted suit, his voice smooth, his presence magnetic. He'd seemed untouchable then, brilliant and composed, the kind of man who drew every eye without trying.

From the moment she fell for him at first sight until now, seven years had passed. Yet, it seemed her love had always been hers alone.

After her grandfather passed and her grandmother fell gravely ill, tragedy struck again—her mother died unexpectedly. Soon after, her father remarried and started a new family, welcoming a son with his second wife.

Left to shoulder everything alone, Willa devoted herself to caring for her ailing grandmother. It was during that difficult time she met Bryan and fell hopelessly in love.

"Caylee is carrying your child," Willa remarked, a strained smile curling her lips. "No wonder you couldn't care less whenever Cody urged you to have a child with me. I was such a fool. I actually thought you couldn't perform in the bedroom. Guess I was worrying for nothing."

Bryan's brow furrowed. "Funny," he murmured. "I remember having you shaking under me. How could you suspect that I struggle in the bedroom?"

Her breath caught. The memory hit like a wave—his touch, his heat, the helpless tremor in her limbs. Even recalling it made her skin prickle with unwanted sensation.

Still, she straightened her back, refusing to let him see her falter. "A single night of intimacy doesn't prove anything."

Bryan tossed his pen onto the desk and rose to his feet. Crossing the space between them, he looked down at her with cool indifference. "Seven times in one night and you begged for water twice before dawn—doesn't that prove anything to you?"

Willa's face drained of color. She'd heard that tone too many times—mocking, sharp enough to slice through what little pride she had left.

Taking a small step back, she dropped her gaze and muttered, "Let's stop this, Bryan. Once the divorce is done, you can have children with anyone you want."

Bryan moved closer, the scent of his cologne filling the space between them as he pressed her back against the door.

"You worked so hard to claw your way into the Scott family—now you're walking out just like that?" he queried, his voice low and taunting.

Willa's chest rose and fell with suppressed fury, yet she curved her lips into a brittle smile. "You think you're some big deal? The second someone else lays a damn hand on what's mine, it's garbage to me."

Spinning on her heel, she strode out—only to whirl back, still burning with resentment. Her hand shot out, grabbing the small cactus from his desk.

She'd once picked it out herself, hoping it would shield him from computer radiation and ease his strained eyes.

Now, she intended to dump it in the trash where it belonged.

Bryan's brows knitted, a shadow passing over his face as he watched her storm off.

Willa retreated to her bedroom and fished out her phone to call a lawyer for the divorce papers. As she did, something fluttered from her bag onto the floor.

She bent down and picked it up: a men's health clinic flyer. The memory of a woman pressing it into her hand at the hospital gate flashed vividly through her mind.

Tightening her grip on the phone, she swiped to unlock the screen.