Chapter 1: A Cold Break and a Heated Divorce

Night had fallen, bringing with it a heavy downpour, and the temperature plummeted. The city of Creston had officially entered winter, with the riverside streets coated in a thick layer of white frost. The stately mansion, Creston Manor, looked even more grandiose after the rain, especially with the dim amber light glowing from the top floor well into the night.

Emily lay slumped against the pillow, her dewy almond-shaped eyes still unfocused, and her fair cheeks flushed pink. Her rosy lips were slightly swollen, giving her a delicate and pitiful appearance. She reached out to pull the sheets over herself, but no matter how she tried, she couldn't cover the marks on her milk-white skin—marks that seemed to accuse the other party of not sparing her any tenderness.

The room still held traces of the earlier passion, and it took Emily quite a while to regain her composure. The sound of a lighter flicking open made her turn her head, and she saw Ethan, who had just lit a cigarette.

"Let me," Emily said softly, her slender fingers curling around his hand. Her voice was as gentle and fluid as water.

Ethan turned slightly, allowing her to light his cigarette for him. Emily naturally leaned into his chest, but as soon as she did, Ethan's hand gripped her waist and pushed her away—not too forcefully, but with enough firmness to deny her any further intimacy.

He was always like this, engaging in the most intimate acts but refusing even a simple embrace afterward. Emily didn't push herself onto him again. Instead, she curled up beside Ethan like a cat, her gaze fixed on his face as it gradually became obscured by the rising smoke.

The haze in Ethan's narrow eyes cleared, returning to the cold and distant gaze she was used to—nothing like the wild look he had just moments ago.

After two months apart, the man looked a little tired, but there was an air of satisfaction and contentment about him. He lazily puffed on his cigarette, the slight movement of his Adam's apple unexpectedly sensual.

Emily stared at his prominent throat for a while before her eyes shifted to the fingers holding the cigarette. Even his hands were beautiful, with long, evenly proportioned fingers and defined knuckles.

Emily lifted her arm, her smooth hand resting over his. "Are you going to Paris next month?"

Ethan responded with a lazy, hoarse "Mm."

"I want to go with you!" Emily clung to his arm.

Ethan glanced at her, his thick brows furrowing for a moment. "I'll be busy with work," he replied, his tone making it clear that he didn't want her to be a distraction.

Emily pouted, unhappy with his response. "But I'm fluent in French—I can be your translator…"

"There's no need," Ethan cut her off, his voice indifferent. "I have a professional translator in my team."

The finality in his tone was cold and impatient, and Emily's heart sank, filling with a bitter chill. Next month was her birthday. She wasn't expecting him to be around to celebrate it with her, but she had hoped to spend at least that day with him. But it was clear now that he hadn't even remembered her birthday.

Of course, he would remember eventually. His assistant would remind him a few days before. Her birthday, all the holidays, their anniversaries—they were all scheduled into his calendar like any other business appointment. He would dutifully send her expensive gifts: limited-edition handbags, exclusive jewelry, rare diamonds… Each gift more extravagant than the last, and just as cold.

Perfectly reflecting their marriage: full of wealth, but devoid of emotion.

Emily's family and the Harrisons had entered into a marriage of convenience. In the nearly two years since they married, Ethan had been focused on expanding his empire, leaving little time for them to spend together. He understood the nature of their marriage well, remaining clear-headed and reserved. But for Emily, it was different.

She had grown up in France, nurtured by the romantic air of Paris. She had been raised in a life of luxury, surrounded by adoration, and she struggled to separate love from marriage. Having known Ethan since her youth, she had always harbored feelings for him. Marrying him at just over twenty, she had been full of dreamy, romantic ideals. Her first taste of love had led her to fall for him completely, body and soul.

Ethan's stance was clear: he offered her the title of his wife and all the material wealth that came with it—but nothing more. Yet Emily had grown increasingly greedy, yearning for his love, his heart… The more she craved, the further he pushed her away; the more desperate she became, the more disdainful and distant he grew.

Lately, she could feel it—his last vestiges of patience and decency towards her were wearing thin.

The thought filled her with anxiety, and she quickly turned to look at him.

Ethan was already up, standing by the bed as he fastened his watch. The movement flexed his lean, muscular arm, and his side profile was as refined as a sculpture—perfectly chiseled features, from his sharp brow to his straight nose and firm jawline.

The same face that had been full of passion moments ago was now cold and distant, as if he were entirely detached. He had transformed from a man full of desire to an icy, emotionless figure—a stark contrast that only made him more irresistible.

Watching him get dressed, Emily frowned. "It's so late, and you're still going out?"

Ethan didn't look at her. "I have a video conference with a foreign client."

Emily stared at him intently. "Text me when you're done."

"Mm."

"You didn't text me last time," she continued, wrapping herself tighter in the crumpled sheets as she accused him. "You didn't even reply to my messages—there was no word from you the entire day…"

Ethan's jaw tightened, his long lashes fluttering shut for a brief moment—a sign that his patience had finally run out.

She had really been pushing it lately.

If he didn't respond quickly enough, she would bombard him with calls. Just a few days ago, when he didn't come home for dinner, she had locked herself in their room and refused to eat, causing such a commotion that even the elder Harrisons had to intervene…

Thinking about it made Ethan's head throb, his temples pulsing painfully. The final thread of his tolerance snapped.

He turned his head, his black eyes cold and unreadable as they settled on her.

After a few moments of silence, he spoke calmly. "Emily, let's get a divorce."

**

Emily stood frozen under the shower, the water running cool as it streamed down her slender shoulders and back. She seemed entirely unaware of it.

Divorce…

He actually wanted a divorce!?

She knew he was dissatisfied with her, but she hadn't thought it had escalated to the point of divorce!

Then what was the point of what they'd just done?

Was that a "goodbye" s*x?

Emily's long, slender neck tilted as she exhaled a slow breath, still feeling suffocated.

Her gaze fell on the mirror across from her. The woman in the reflection had flawless, fair skin, and was stunningly beautiful—every bit as attractive as any current A-list actress. Her poise and figure were exceptional, her curves in perfect proportion.

Emily had always taken pride in her appearance, but after two years of marriage, Ethan had never taken her to any public events outside of family gatherings, and he never acknowledged her as his wife in public. Despite her beauty and charm, she had confidently believed that even if Ethan didn't love her now, he would eventually fall for her, just like all her previous admirers had.

But now he wanted a divorce…

Emily rubbed her reddened eyes and heard a soft knock on the bathroom door.

"I'm leaving," Ethan's voice came through the sound of the water, slightly muffled. "The divorce papers will be sent to you."

"No!" Emily's heart skipped a beat, and she scrambled to chase after him.

"Wait, you—" she began, but before she could finish, her foot slipped.

She fell backward, hitting her head on the edge of the bathtub. She didn't even have time to scream before everything went black.

**

"Fifty-four million! Going once!"

"Fifty-four million, going twice! Fifty-four million, sold!!"

The gavel came down with a heavy thud. "Sold for fifty-four million!"

"This 21.19-carat light pink diamond ring has been sold for fifty-four million yuan!"

The room immediately buzzed with chatter, and the reporters in the corner whispered among themselves.

"Fifty million for a ring? Who the hell is this?"

One reporter glanced toward the front row and whispered, "Who else could it be? It's Harrison."

A collective "ah" of understanding swept through the room. "Of course…"

The Harrison family was legendary, one of the oldest and most powerful in the country.

The family's roots could be traced back hundreds of years. According to legend, the Harrisons had moved to Creston during the late Yuan Dynasty to escape the turmoil, making their fortune in the medicinal herb trade. By the Qing Dynasty, the Harrisons were already among the wealthiest families in the region.

A well-known 4A scenic park in Creston was once the Harrisons' ancestral estate before it was donated to the state.

The saying "wealth doesn't last beyond three generations" didn't apply to the Harrisons. Ethan Harrison represented the fifteenth generation of this powerful lineage.

Three years ago, Ethan took over Creston Enterprises, becoming the head of the family business. His decisive leadership and ruthless

efficiency doubled the family's wealth in a short time. Creston Enterprises rapidly expanded its reach, with interests in real estate, manufacturing, IT, and financial investment.

But Creston Enterprises wasn't content with just that. Industry insiders speculated that Ethan's next move would be to break into the entertainment industry—a sector the Harrisons had never ventured into before.

According to the latest Forbes list, the Harrison family's wealth had soared to $270 billion, making them the richest family in the country. Ethan's personal net worth had reached $38 billion, placing him at the top of the wealth rankings.

At that moment, Ethan stood up and walked onto the stage. The room was instantly flooded with camera flashes, and everyone looked up, eager to catch a clearer glimpse of the new billionaire. But when they finally saw him, their attention quickly shifted from his wealth to his appearance.

Here was a man who, from his tailored suit to his polished shoes, exuded wealth—but without the slightest trace of vulgarity.

His looks were almost too good to be true, like a character straight out of a cheesy romance novel. His narrow eyes, deep-set under sharp brows, his straight nose, and the sharp lines of his lips gave him an air of authority and danger.

He walked onto the stage with a slow, deliberate pace, his tall frame radiating an innate sense of nobility. The people around him seemed to fade into the background, as if they were mere extras in his world.

"Tch." The reporter from before lowered his camera. "At the rate he's making money, fifty-four million is just pocket change to him."

The billionaire made thirty thousand dollars a minute.

Fifty-four million was what he earned in his sleep:）

Another reporter couldn't help but throw in a bitter comment, "He probably wouldn't even bend down to pick up his wallet if he dropped it—it wouldn't be worth his time."

"Well, you could always follow him around and pick up his loose change. Who knows? You might strike it rich overnight."

"Get lost!"

…

Ethan ignored the murmurs around him as he walked off the stage. His assistant, Jason, immediately approached, matching his brisk pace as he confirmed the next item on their schedule.

They were used to splitting their time down to the second, moving at a speed that was more of a fast walk. Ethan's long legs carried him forward with ease, leaving Jason struggling to keep up while continuing his report.

"Chairman Harrison," Jason hesitated after finishing the work update. "The housekeeper just called. She said that Madam had a fall in the bathroom and hit her head."

Ethan came to an abrupt stop. "How is she?"

"The doctor says she's fine," Jason replied, glancing nervously at Ethan's expression. "But…"

Ethan raised an eyebrow.

Jason lowered his voice. "It seems Madam has lost her memory."

Ethan: "..."

Here we go again.

She had already pulled every stunt in the book: faking illness, hunger strikes, running away… and now memory loss?

What other surprises could she possibly have in store:）

Ethan's lips curled into a faint, mocking smile.

"Mr. Guan also mentioned…" Jason's voice trailed off as he saw the dark look on his boss's face, a bead of sweat forming in his palm.

"What did he say?"

"He said Madam agreed to the divorce!"