Divorce and Freedom: No More Homemaker for Him Free Preview

Since the day Ayla Keaton married Troy Winston, she never once thought about divorce.

But then, his first love came back.

...

Ayla was in the hospital when the doctor spoke to her in a flat voice.

"Ms. Keaton, this miscarriage caused serious damage. Your chances of having children again are very low. You need to mentally prepare yourself."

Her mind buzzed.

She had worked for three years to get pregnant. Finally, two months ago, she had succeeded.

And now, this afternoon, a car had darted out of nowhere, knocking her down.

The doctor frowned. "Ms. Keaton?"

"Alright, I understand. Thank you, Doctor."

Ayla didn't like showing weakness in front of others. She blinked quickly, forcing back her tears, then stood up and walked out.

Behind her, she caught the whispers of two nurses. "Something this serious happened to her, and her husband never showed up?"

"Don't even mention it. Right after her procedure, she cried so hard she almost passed out and begged him to come. He never showed."

"Oh my gosh. If that isn't a sign he doesn't love her, then what is? If this doesn't end in divorce, I'll be shocked."

Ayla walked farther away and missed the rest of their conversation.

The truth was, not only did Troy refuse to come, but he had also snapped at her over the phone. "The baby's gone, so what? Stop crying about it. I'm busy. Stop bothering me."

After that, every call she made went unanswered.

For three years, Troy had always treated her this way—cold and distant.

The truth was she had grown used to it.

The marriage had only happened because three years ago Ayla had accidentally saved Troy's grandfather, Martin Winston's life. Martin liked her and pushed for the match. Without him, she would have never married Troy.

From the start, Troy never wanted her.

Still, today she kept calling him, hoping he might care for the sake of their unborn child.

Clearly, she had hoped for too much.

Shaking off the thought, Ayla pulled out her phone to call a cab. Just then, a message popped up.

It was from Max Bennett, Troy's best friend. He had sent her a video.

She clicked on it.

The first shot was of an enormous bouquet of roses—at least 1,000 of them. There were so many flowers, the frame couldn't hold them all.

Then the camera shifted left. Troy appeared, standing beside a woman.

Skyla Summer.

Ayla's pupils tightened. Her fingers gripped hard around her phone.

In the video, voices rose with excitement. "Skyla, Troy knew you were coming back to the country today. He's been planning this welcome party for weeks! He really went all out.

"Come on, give him a hug to thank him!"

"A hug? Please, just kiss already. It's not like you two haven't done it before. I still have that video of your three-minute intense kiss."

Skyla shook her head with a smile. "Not anymore; it's not appropriate."

Before she could finish, Troy pulled her into his arms. "Skyla, welcome back."

He held her so naturally, so gently, it made the whole crowd scream.

The crowd screamed and cheered. "See? He doesn't care one bit!"

"Kiss! Kiss!"

The video ended there—cut off.

Because it had been recalled.

A second later, a new message appeared. "Sorry, I sent that by mistake."

It was recalled so quickly. Max probably thought Ayla hadn't seen it. He never explained further.

Ayla stared at the chat window for a long time.

Then she laughed bitterly.

So this was the "important thing" Troy had been talking about.

She had spent three years trying to warm his cold heart, but instead of waiting for him to love her back, his first love had returned to the country.

Troy's heart would never belong to her.

It was time to wake up from this greedy dream.

When Ayla got home, she started to pack her suitcase.

Over the years, her life had been simple—work, routine, nothing fancy. She rarely bought anything for herself. Other than clothes and important documents, there wasn't much to take. A single 26-inch suitcase was enough.

In less than 30 minutes, everything was ready.

Then she waited for Troy to come home.

It was two in the morning when the front door was pushed open.

Troy walked through the living room and met her eyes.

He wasn't surprised.

Many late nights after business dinners, Ayla often waited up for him.

"You had surgery today. Shouldn't you be resting?" His tone was flat, without the slightest care.

"I was waiting for you."

Since the moment he came in, her eyes never left his lips.

They were perfectly shaped—except for the cracked corner.

His white shirt collar carried faint lipstick stains, and even his neck showed marks.

He had kissed someone.

Maybe more.

A sharp pain stabbed her chest.

Troy had hardly touched her in their three years of marriage. Each time it was because they didn't want to after their families pushed them to have a baby.

He never kissed her, never showed tenderness. Every time, he went straight to the act, leaving her in pain. When it was over, she longed for a hug, but he'd turn away and disappear into the shower.

All she ever got was his cold back.

Troy's gaze shifted to the suitcase by her side. He seemed to understand immediately. "You saw Max's video, didn't you?"

"Yes, I saw it."

Up close, Ayla could smell the alcohol on him—mixed with heavy perfume that made her stomach turn.

"Let's—" She didn't get to finish before Troy cut her off.

"Since you have found out, let's just divorce. You knew from the start—if Skyla hadn't gone overseas, I never would've married you."

At this point, Ayla couldn't argue. "Fine."

"It's late. Get some rest. You can move out tomorrow—"

"It's fine. I've signed the divorce papers."

She pointed to the coffee table.

On their wedding night, Troy had handed her the divorce papers. Only today did Ayla finally find the determination to sign them.

This time, Troy was the one who looked surprised.

He frowned, as if doubting whether she was serious.

"I know you've been drinking. I made some lemon tea. It's in the kitchen," Ayla said after a pause.

Habit, maybe. But it was the last thing she would ever do for him.

For years she had done everything for him, hoping he'd love her back.

She had gone from barely knowing how to cook to becoming skilled, though it came with burns, cuts, and scars on her hands.

Every meal for Troy meant hours of effort—buying groceries, cooking, and plating.

He was picky. No matter how good the food was, he never once said it tasted great. Still, she could see he often enjoyed it.

Troy knew one word of praise would keep her happy for days, but he never gave her that joy.

"I'm leaving." Three years of marriage ended with nothing more to say.

Troy frowned. "Stay tonight."

"No." Ayla grabbed her luggage and walked out.

Troy didn't like it when Ayla disobeyed. His face darkened.

Then the front door shut.

Just then, Max called. "Troy, are you home yet? Did you ask Ayla if she saw the video? Look, I swear I didn't mean for that to happen. Even if she saw it, it's probably fine. You two fight all the time anyway."

"She divorced me," Troy said flatly.

Max was shocked. "What? Divorced? Over a video? No way! Ayla wouldn't leave you. If she really did, I'll eat my hat!"

"I'm the one who brought that up," Troy said.

Max went quiet.

Everyone knew when Troy brought up divorce, it didn't mean much. Ayla was famous for clinging to him like glue—he could never shake her off.

"Didn't you try that last month? And it happened again in less than a month? Gosh! It's shorter than the moon cycle."

"This time I bet she'll come back in less than twelve hours," and I was right. This time, I'll bet one day. If I win again, you're buying dinner!"

Troy glanced at the closed door. Outside, a car engine started.

Ayla seemed determined this time.

But Troy's cool eyes narrowed, not the least bit worried. "She won't even make it to tomorrow night," he said. "She'll be back by morning."

Troy had asked for a divorce. Usually, Ayla would storm out for a while, then come crawling back, trying twice as hard to win him over.

It had never been any different.

This time, Troy expected the same.

She left so quickly today, probably because of her miscarriage.

As for the baby …

Disgust flashed in Troy's eyes. He never thought Ayla deserved to carry his child. The pregnancy had been nothing more than an accident.

Now that the baby was gone, all the better.

...

The divorce came with 50 million dollars in settlement money.

The debit card and the papers were placed together.

If Ayla had signed three years ago, she could've walked away with it all without paying any price.

But she'd wasted three years chasing a dream, draining her body and soul. She'd even hurt her chances of ever becoming a mother.

So be it.

Dwelling on it only tore her apart, and there was no future in that. Life had to move forward.

And having that money was still better than walking away with nothing.

She took the card with her. It was late at night; she hailed a cab that dropped her off at the gates of Westhaven.

This was an upscale neighborhood where the lowest price per square foot started at 300,000 dollars.

Each floor had only two units, and Ayla had one under her name.

It wasn't really hers. The condo belonged to her Uncle Hugh. After her mother's accident, he moved overseas and left the place to her.

Ayla never thought she'd need it, but life didn't go as planned. Now that she was divorced, having a ready home was a blessing.

Building 7, penthouse, unit 1.

Dragging her suitcase, Ayla walked inside.

She'd already scheduled a cleaning service that afternoon, so the place was spotless. Still, with almost 3,200 square feet, it felt huge and empty.

In the past, she might have felt the loneliness of living alone in such a huge space.

But after three years of Troy's coldness, nothing scared her anymore. For the first time in years, she felt a strange calm in her chest.

Relieved yet bone-tired, she washed up quickly, lay down, and fell asleep at once.

Ding!

At six in the morning, a familiar alarm blared.

Its label read, "Time to make breakfast for my husband."

Ayla's eyes snapped open.

Troy always ate breakfast at eight, but he was picky. A simple meal wouldn't do, so cooking often took her one or two hours.

If he came home late from a party, Ayla would still stay up to take care of him; sometimes she would go to bed around two or three in the morning, then wake up early to cook for him.

Sometimes she made an entire spread, only for Troy to ignore it, leaving all that food for the trash.

But things were different now; she didn't have to wake up early anymore.

She didn't have to worry about her hard work going to waste.

Ayla deleted the alarm, pulled on an eye mask, and lay back down.

She worried that she might not be able to fall asleep.

But within minutes, she drifted off.

...

At eight in the morning, Troy opened his eyes with a pounding headache.

He always got headaches if he drank too much and forgot to take something before bed. Last night he'd been exhausted and skipped his lemon tea.

Now, he was paying for it.

Still, a glass of warm milk sat on the nightstand.

Troy gave a faint, knowing smile.

She left so firmly last night, and yet she came back, didn't she?

He drank the warm milk. The ache in his head eased a little. Then he picked up his phone and texted Max, "I won the bet."

Max replied, annoyed but impressed. "Ayla just can't stand her ground, huh? She's spoiled you so much that she doesn't even know where the line is anymore."

He howled. "Man, I hate losing. This is killing me."

Then he added, "Come on, man, do me a favor. Find me a woman who loves me to the moon like her. I'm begging you. Just let me have a taste of your good fortune for once."

Troy smirked and typed back, "Cut it out! You're gross!"

He tossed his phone aside and went to wash up.

When he came downstairs, the house was quiet. No familiar figure bustled in the kitchen.

"Where is she?" He called coldly.

Laura Cook stepped out of the kitchen with a tray. "Good morning, Mr. Winston. Breakfast is ready."

Troy frowned. "You're the one making breakfast?"

"Yes, me," she answered with a small smile.

"That glass of milk. You put it there too?"

Laura nodded. "Mrs. Winston told me last night she'd be out today, so she asked me to come over early."

Troy's face darkened, and he said nothing.

Laura grew nervous at this. "Mr. Winston, maybe you should have your breakfast."

He stood there for a moment, then he pulled a long face and forced himself to sit at the table.

But the sight killed his appetite. A glass of milk, two slices of toast, a sunny side up, and a small pack of cheese. That was it.

Ayla's breakfasts were always lavish—seven or eight different options, beautifully arranged, never the same two days in a row.

Compared to that, this was pathetic.

The anger that had cooled inside him flared right back up.

"You call this breakfast?" His voice was sharp and icy.

A shiver ran down Laura's back at the question. "I'm sorry! Mrs. Winston always made your breakfast. I don't know your preferences."

"Then call and ask her."

Laura stammered, "I tried, but she didn't pick up."

Troy's eyes narrowed.

Impressive, Ayla!

Still, he wasn't worried. She would come back. She always did.

Maybe she'd even show up at the office by lunchtime, trying to corner him like before.

That was her usual trick.

But this pitiful breakfast soured his mood. He pushed back from the table and left.

Bang!

The door slammed shut behind him.

Laura stood frozen.

"What just happened?"

She hurriedly reached out to Ayla, but no one answered. She tried again and again; still nothing.

Puzzled, Laura thought it through. Most likely, Troy had mentioned divorce again.

In the past, Ayla would always ask her about Troy, waiting for the right moment to slip back home.

But this time, she wasn't answering. That was new.

Laura guessed Ayla must have learned to play hard to get—stay away a little longer, make him realize he couldn't live without her.

Smart move.

After all, everyone knew Troy's heart was never really with Ayla.

And a man like Troy—handsome, powerful, successful—was surrounded by temptation. If Ayla didn't try harder, how could she hope to hold onto him?

...

On Saturday, Ayla didn't have work. She slept in until noon.

She hadn't bought groceries, so she ordered a big takeout meal.

After her meal, she scrolled through Reddit. Many faces she once knew had already become leaders in their fields.

But she couldn't find any trace of her old professor.

If she remembered right, her professor was busy with research.

What stayed in Ayla's memory most was the professor's gaze—warm, almost like the way her mother once looked at her.

And yet, Ayla had let her down.

Her eyes burned. After a moment's hesitation, she dialed a number.

"Halle, let's meet."

Back in college, Halle would've been thrilled to get her call.

Now, her tone carried little emotion.

"I've asked you ten times, and you've skipped out on nine. Even as your friend, I can't keep letting you waste my time."

Her voice was cool. "Think it through. Are you sure you really want to meet?"

After marriage, Ayla had slipped into family life.

She hadn't meant to neglect her friendships, but she did.

Meanwhile, Halle Kinsman had built a name for herself. Her tech startup was rising fast, a star everyone in the industry was watching.

The gap between them grew wider. The less confident Ayla felt, the less often she reached out.

Taking a deep breath, Ayla said quietly, "I'm divorced."

On the other end, silence stretched. Then Halle spoke, short and firm, "Time. Place."

...

That afternoon, Ayla brought her divorce papers to the courthouse. Once the thirty-day waiting period was over, she could get her official divorce certificate.

By the time she finished, it wasn't even three o'clock. She arrived early at the café where she and Halle had agreed to meet.

She ordered a coffee and drank half. Then her fingers tightened around the cup. Her whole body froze.

Ayla hadn't expected it—less than a day after signing the papers, she ran straight into Troy.

Troy walked through the café doors in a sharp suit, tall and striking, like a model straight off a runway. His polished look and commanding presence drew more than a few stares from the patrons in the cafe, most of them sneaking glances with quiet admiration.

Beside him was another man, early thirties, refined and confident.

Ayla recognized him immediately—Norris Payne from Agron University, a well-known figure in computer science.

She had once read on Reddit that he was leading research on AI and data-driven stability.

Behind them trailed Jed Grant, Troy's assistant, carrying a file in his arms.

It made sense they were together. Winston Group was a leader in Trensea's tech industry. Meeting Norris was likely part of business.

Ayla's heart sank. The last thing she wanted was to run into Troy.

But if she stood up and left now, it would only draw attention. She hoped he wouldn't notice her.

Fate wasn't on her side.

In the very next moment, Troy's eyes locked on hers.

Their gazes met.

His expression was flat and cold, like she was a stranger. Then he looked away, uninterested, as if her presence meant nothing.

It was no surprise to see Ayla.

Jed followed Troy's glance and spotted Ayla too. He gave no sign of surprise. Instead, he turned back and said, "The private room is this way, Mr. Winston and Professor Norris."

Ayla exhaled softly in relief. Maybe that was the end of it.

But then they stopped.

Norris asked, "Mr. Winston, do you know the woman by the window? Forgive me, but I noticed both you and your assistant looked at her."

Troy had expected Ayla to appear at his company, not here.

It didn't really surprise him, but that didn't mean he welcomed it.

His reply was curt and cold. "She's my maid."

Norris froze.

He hadn't asked because of Troy's glance, but because he thought he recognized her. He remembered seeing her years ago at Agron University's lab.

But that couldn't be right. Agron was one of the top universities in the country. Even their average graduates never ended up as house help.

Norris knew that student from Agron University was an absolute genius, a genius among geniuses. His lab was now stuck on a major problem. If someone with her talent joined, the issue could be solved in no time.

But a few years ago, she had suddenly vanished without a trace.

Norris had even gone through every graduate file, but all of them were ordinary. None matched that brilliant mind he remembered.

By his estimate, with her skills, just a few published papers would have shaken the entire field. She could have become the youngest professor in Agron University's history. She might have even earned a place in the Computer Science Hall of Fame.

Her future should have been limitless.

Thinking of this, Norris sighed. Maybe he was mistaken. There was no reason to dwell on it. "Let's go, Mr. Winston."

Troy didn't spare Ayla another glance. He walked straight into the private room.

Ayla's fingernail scraped against the coffee cup, making a sharp, unpleasant sound.

Max once came over for dinner. After tasting Ayla's cooking, he was blown away. He even joked that he'd only marry a woman who could cook like her.

Troy, in his usual flat tone, said, "Marrying a chef is all it takes to make you happy."

Loving someone really could make you foolish.

Back then, Ayla didn't think much of it.

She thought it was harmless. But now, looking back, it was ridiculous.

Three years of effort, and all she got was the role of a cook and a maid. What kind of love was that?

A wave of pain hit her. It wasn't just pain—it felt like a heartache she realized too late, piercing her heart over and over like tiny needles that wouldn't stop.

Knock! Knock!

As soon as Troy entered the private room, Jed walked over and tapped on her table.

Her thoughts snapped back. She looked up at him.

Jed's face was tight with irritation as he asked coldly, "What are you doing here? Didn't Mr. Winston warn you not to follow him around?"

Once, when Martin was sick, Ayla couldn't reach Troy. She had no choice but to ask his secretary and eventually found him at a bar.

Troy had been completely drunk. When she tried to help him up, he shoved her down on the couch and kissed her fiercely.

Ayla was shocked—but also thrilled.

Troy had always been cold to her. That was the first time he kissed her on his own.

But then, in the middle of it, he whispered a name—"Skyla."

That night, when Troy muttered another woman's name, Ayla froze. The chill spread from her head to her toes. She pushed at him desperately. When he sobered up, his anger was explosive. It was the worst fight of their marriage. He didn't come home for a month. Before leaving, he warned her: if she ever crossed that line again, he would divorce her. Even if Martin himself tried to stop him, it wouldn't matter.

Ayla never dared to disobey after that.

No matter what happened, she never asked about his schedule again.

Jed, as Troy's assistant, knew how much she cared about Troy.

After asking, Jed decided she didn't have the guts.

Ayla would never risk losing more of Troy's favor.

For her to suddenly show up so boldly now, something must have pushed her over the edge.

Jed figured it out quickly. "If this is about Ms. Summer being back in town, then you need to think carefully. Do you know how much she means to Mr. Winston? Following him around won't change a thing. Don't you think this is pointless?"

Skyla had returned with a PhD, passed her interview, and earned a place in Norris's lab.

Norris was a giant in the field, and his researchers were the best of the best, working on the most advanced artificial intelligence applications.

Skyla's world was one Ayla couldn't even touch.

If Jed were in her shoes, he would've sensed when to back off. Otherwise, the moment she stood face-to-face with Skyla, the difference between them would only make Ayla look smaller—pathetic, even.

But clearly, Ayla didn't see it that way.

She and Jed had never gotten along.

Not because of anything personal, but because he was Troy's shadow. Whatever attitude Troy had, Jed copied. And that meant Ayla had endured plenty of cold stares and sharp remarks.

Back then, all her focus had been on Troy, so she stayed polite. No matter how much Jed pushed, she let it slide and never gave him the attitude.

But now? She didn't need to stomach his nasty attitude anymore.

She looked him in the eye and asked, "And what exactly do you mean by pointless? By your logic, I should've been tailing him all day, following him everywhere, never letting him out of my sight. Wouldn't that be easier? That would make me exactly what you just called me—a jealous stalker."

Jed froze, staring at her.

Ayla had always been timid, always submissive. Now she was sharp, almost defiant.

Then, just as quickly, he understood.

Ayla had miscarried yesterday, yet his boss stayed by Skyla's side the whole time.

Any woman, no matter how gentle, would change a little when it came to losing her child. That was why Ayla acted the way she did.

Still, Jed knew her toughness wouldn't last long.

Jed's face was flat. "I don't want to argue. Mr. Winston doesn't want to see you. Please leave."

If she pushed harder, she'd only end up standing there in Troy's way.

But that wouldn't do her any good.

And it wasn't worth being childish.

"I had divorced Troy. What I do from now on has nothing to do with you. Stop meddling in my business."

Ayla turned and walked away as soon as she said it.

Jed watched her back, so baffled he almost laughed.

She's unbelievable.

Mr. Winston had brought up divorce so many times. Did she ever actually go through with it?

What was the point of throwing a fit with me now?

And if she wanted to sound tough, she should at least take off the wedding ring first. Wearing it on her finger while making bold claims only made her look ridiculous.

...

After leaving, Ayla called Halle. "Let's meet somewhere else," she said.

She had planned to take care of the ring after meeting with Halle, but she couldn't wait any longer.

They met at a jewelry store.

The staff used small pliers to cut the ring from Ayla's finger.

Over the years she hadn't been able to get pregnant. Her mother-in-law, Carmen Winston, had pushed all kinds of strange pills on her. Her body changed; she gained weight. Without noticing, the ring became impossible to slip off.

Now broken, the ring was nothing but scrap. The store bought it back at platinum market value.

Ayla never liked flashy things. Her wedding band had only tiny chips of diamond, barely worth anything. In the end, she got less than 2,000 dollars for it.

Halle heard the number and burst out laughing. "You actually sold your wedding ring? I've got to admit, this time your divorce act looks real."

Given how Ayla had acted the last three years, Halle couldn't believe she was finally serious about leaving Troy.

Ayla didn't argue back. She looked at the faint mark still pressed into her ring finger. "This mark looks awful. I should've taken it off sooner."

Halle caught the tone in her voice and realized Ayla might actually mean it this time.

Not that she was completely sure, but Ayla's attitude was stronger than before. Still, Halle couldn't resist a jab.

"The price of your marriage isn't even worth a steak dinner."

Ayla didn't explain herself. "Then let's go. Dinner's on me."

Halle stayed put, one brow raised. "My time's valuable. First tell me what you really want. Let me decide if you're worth sitting through a meal with."

Ayla went quiet for a few seconds.

"I'm rewriting the research paper I dropped before," Ayla said. "I need to use your lab to run the data."

The industry had changed so fast. She would have to make a lot of adjustments.

She hadn't dared to bring it up on the phone. Guilt held her back.

She knew Halle would scold her—why wait until now? If she hadn't gotten married, her paper would've been published back in college.

Sure enough, Halle gave her an odd look. "A whim?"

"I'm serious," Ayla said.

Halle studied her closely.

She had never left the field, and she knew the buzz. Norris was leading research that had every major tech company watching.

Almost no one knew that the toughest part of Norris's project was something Ayla had already solved three years ago.

The full system—LugiX—was sitting in her company.

Ayla was the sole developer of the LugiX language model. Any single hurdle she'd overcome could have stalled an entire lab for years. To Halle, Ayla was the most gifted person she had ever met.

But geniuses could be fools in love. Instead of building her career, Ayla had run off and gotten married. Now she was stuck serving coffee as someone's secretary.

Wasting her talent. No real work, no progress. Halle couldn't wrap her head around it.

"You've been out for three years," Halle said. "Are you sure your paper's still worth anything?"

"I'll make changes," Ayla answered. "Once my professor comes out, I'll confirm the research direction with her. If she approves, I'll move forward."

That was only if the professor agreed to see her.

"Then you'll be waiting a while," Halle said. "She's buried in national projects right now. She won't be out anytime soon."

"I can wait," Ayla said calmly.

She wasn't chasing Troy's love anymore. What she now had was time.

Halle wanted to say more but stopped. She knew that even if Ayla had been gone from the field for years, when it came to her research, she couldn't give any advice with her level.

The mind of a true genius worked in a world of its own.

Finally, Halle gave in. "Fine. I'll have dinner with you."

Sharp tongue, soft heart. She acted like Ayla was troubling her, but the truth was, she'd never have shown up if she didn't care.

Ayla smiled lightly. "Thanks for making the time, Ms. Hall."

...

Max was out shopping with his new influencer girlfriend—someone he had just made things official with an hour ago—when he spotted a familiar face.

He hurried forward, but the person was already gone.

Max stepped into the jewelry store, told his girlfriend to pick something she liked, and casually asked the staff a few questions.

The more he heard, the more excited he became.

Troy, that sneaky guy, had lied to him!

If Ayla had gone back home first thing in the morning to play the dutiful wife, how would she have sold her wedding ring?

Max thought it over, then quickly texted a bunch of friends to meet.

That night, the group was drinking and laughing when Troy finally showed up.

Max spotted him right away and raised his voice on purpose. "You guys hear this? Ayla sold her wedding ring. What kind of show do you think she's putting on?"

Every time they hung out, the group would make jokes at Ayla's expense. At first, they worried Troy might get annoyed, but they soon realized he didn't care.

If he reacted as much as with a frown, no one would dare to say another word.

But they soon realized it didn't matter. Troy never cared. He didn't mind them laughing at Ayla, even right in front of him.

This time was different. Before anyone else could say anything, Troy cut in, his tone flat. "She's just putting on a show for me."

Jed had already told him every word Ayla said at the café.

He hadn't believed it for a second.

Troy shared Jed's thought—Ayla must have been pushed over the edge.

Selling the wedding ring was just another stunt.

"Putting on a show? That does sound like Ayla," one friend said with a laugh.

"But come on, that won't work on Troy. Everyone knows he never wore his wedding ring after the wedding."

Max, grinning, chimed in, "Not true. He's worn it at special events. At least when Martin's around, he wouldn't dare to take it off—"

Troy shot him an icy glare.

Max coughed and backtracked immediately. "Right, right. Never wore it. Not worn it for once."

That seemed to smooth things over. Troy's expression eased slightly.

Max twitched his mouth and asked, "By the way, I saw Ayla at another jewelry store later. It looked like she was buying a new pair of matching rings for you two. You gonna wear one if she gives it to you?"

Troy didn't answer.

Instead, his long fingers toyed with his hand as his expression softened—something rare for him.

Troy had lived up to his reputation: cold, refined, untouchable. That flicker of tenderness on his face was unusual.

Max leaned over to peek and realized Troy was texting Skyla.

But in a flash, he switched off the screen.

Troy looked up, clearly irritated by the interruption. "You asked me here for something this pointless?"

Max finally understood. Ayla could disappear for a month, and Troy wouldn't care.

No matter what tricks she tried, it was meaningless if Troy didn't give her the time of day. There's no fun in it for anyone.

Max let out a disappointed click of his tongue. "Well, I didn't win, but you lost. Don't forget—you owe me a dinner."

They had made a bet on how long it would take Ayla to come back.

Troy gave a calm nod. "Pick a date."

Max grinned. "Skyla's birthday's coming up. Let's do it then—make it a party."

Troy's voice was even. "You don't need to bring that up; I was already planning on inviting you all."

Max whistled low. "So thoughtful. Guess you had it planned all along."

It really showed whether someone cared or not.

If he remembered right, Ayla's birthday was a month ago.

That night Troy was out drinking with them. Ayla called, but Troy was too drunk to answer, so Max picked up.

The first thing she asked was, "Are you still busy? My birthday's over."

It was one in the morning.

Max answered, "It's me. Sorry, Troy's had too much to drink. Hmm, happy birthday."

Ayla stayed quiet for a few seconds. She seemed to accept that her husband had forgotten her birthday. After that, she simply asked Max to take care of Troy, not a single complaint.

Back then, Max thought Ayla was a saint when it came to love.

…

Later that night, Troy came home from Max's party.

Passing through the living room, something made him glance at the couch.

No one was there.

Upstairs, the guest room at the end of the hall was dark.

That was Ayla's room, the one farthest away from the master bedroom.

A whole day had gone by. She still hadn't come back.

Troy didn't care. He turned and went into the master bedroom.

Monday morning, the start of the workweek.

Troy washed up and went downstairs. Laura was busy in the kitchen. She had made a full breakfast spread. He looked it over. He wasn't that hungry but still sat down at the table.

Laura finally breathed in relief.

Ayla was away. The last two days had been rough on her.

Troy was polite, almost never snapping at staff. But his presence was strong, and just standing near him made someone like Laura feel pressured.

"Mr. Winston, take your time and enjoy your breakfast," she said carefully.

The food wasn't bad, but compared to Ayla's cooking, something was missing.

After only two days, Troy found himself missing her breakfasts. "Has she called you?" he asked suddenly.

Laura froze on the spot. She was about to leave the room, but the question startled her. "Wh-what?"

Troy frowned.

Alarm went off in Laura's mind.

She caught herself, quickly shaking her head. "No, she hasn't!"

Troy's frown deepened. "Not even once?"

"Y-yes, Mrs. Winston hasn't called me. My call can't get through to her. M-maybe she blocked me."

Clink!

Troy set down his fork, his face dark, and walked off without a word.

Laura froze.

She had gotten it all wrong. If Ayla upset Troy, he would always lose his temper.

Laura used to hope Ayla would give Troy the cold shoulder for a few days. Not anymore.

Even as an outsider, Laura could see Troy only responded to gentleness, never to pressure. Ayla must know this even better than her. She never should have tried to play hard to get with him from the start.

And now, because of this game she was playing, she made Laura's life harder.

What a pain.

...

When Troy got to the office, he finished the routine meeting. Not long after, his secretary knocked on his door and brought him a gift bag.

He opened it.

Inside was a plain silver ring.

Max had already mentioned Ayla sold their wedding ring and went shopping at other jewelry stores.

So that was the new trick she had up her sleeve after she went missing from his life for the last two days?

Ayla would probably show up at the office with a lunchbox for him later.

Troy's brows furrowed at the thought.

He snapped the ring box shut and tossed it aside, then buried himself in work.

A moment later, he called Jed and told him coldly. "Don't let Ayla into the office today."

He hated her games.

After hanging up, Troy threw the ring box straight into the trash.

...

Monday morning. Workday.

Ayla sat at her desk on time.

When they first married, she was a full-time housewife. At one family dinner, when Martin wasn't there, Carmen tore into her in front of everyone.

She mocked Ayla for doing nothing, eating off the family, failing to care for Troy, and worst of all—still not giving him a child. Carmen said she couldn't even hold her head up in front of friends when Ayla's name came up.

Troy had been right there. He didn't defend her. He just let his mother stab her with cruel words.

That same night, Ayla sent out her résumé.

Not to Winston Group, but to Storm Group.

Storm Group was a tech giant worth over a trillion dollars, built in just five years.

Even for a simple secretary job at Storm Group, you had to be a graduate from one of the top universities in the country.

Ayla had that covered. She graduated from Agron University with a degree in computer science, the most sought-after major at the time.

She could have gone straight into the research department. But tech jobs usually meant brutal hours, endless overtime, and staying up all night when projects got big. If she worked there, she would have no time left to take care of Troy.

So she chose a lighter role instead—an administrative position as a secretary in the president's office.

When Martin found out, he wanted her to work at the Winston Group.

After all, at the family company, she wouldn't have to follow strict office hours, the workload would be lighter, and she would have more freedom.

But Ayla knew how much Carmen despised her. If she joined the Winston Group, Carmen would only make her life harder and accuse her of scheming for the Winstons' fortune.

At Storm Group, she didn't have to deal with any of that.

Last week, when she found out she was pregnant, Ayla had already written a resignation letter. But now she wasn't planning to send it.

She needed to rewrite her thesis and keep up with industry research. Storm Group was on the cutting edge of technology, with access to resources and opportunities she couldn't find anywhere else.

And with her easy secretary job, she still had plenty of time to work on her paper.

"Ayla, how come you didn't bring your lunch today?"

Her coworker leaned over curiously from the next desk.

Sometimes Ayla brought a delicate homemade lunchbox to work. But every time noon came around, she would grab it and leave the office. No one ever knew who she was really bringing it to.

The lunch was something she prepared for Troy.

Whenever Troy went out drinking at business dinners, she would wake up early the next morning to make him something gentle on the stomach.

The easiest way would have been for him to carry it himself, but Troy didn't like the hassle.

So Ayla had to bring it to the office and deliver it to him by taxi during her break.

Luckily his office wasn't far, and she could make it in time.

"Not in the mood to pack lunch," Ayla said flatly.

It wasn't necessary now.

Just then, Blake Pope, the head of the secretary's office, burst into the room with big news.

"The president is returning to the country next Monday. We need every department to organize their files and reports. Make sure everything is complete and accurate for review."

She rapped the table sharply. "Move quickly, people."

The rise of Storm Group over the past few years had been nothing short of a miracle. But the most mysterious part of all was its founder.

He had been overseas, opening new markets, while Vice President, Herman Howell managed things at headquarters.

The true leader of the group was someone Ayla had never even seen.

After the initial shock and excitement, everyone hurried into action.

...

Winston Group.

Out of nowhere, a woman appeared in Troy's office.

Normally, seeing Troy required a scheduled appointment, and her name wasn't on the list.

What shocked the staff even more was that Jed, Troy's personal assistant, went downstairs himself to escort her in. Jed even closed the office door behind them.

Such a special reception left the secretaries buzzing with curiosity. "Who is she? She's gorgeous—looks like a movie star."

"Mr. Winston hates unplanned meetings. For him to make an exception for a woman? Strange."

The staff kept whispering. "Mr. Winston never gets close to women. I've worked here for years, and I've never once seen him alone with one in his office."

A thought started to spread through the room. "Do you think she might be the future Mrs. Winston?"

No one at the company knew Troy was already married. He kept it hidden, except from a few close friends.

He was a man with a spotless record—no scandals, no gossip. So his unusual treatment toward this woman made the guess sound all the more likely.

Inside the office, when Troy saw Skyla, he put his work aside.

She walked up to his desk, leaned forward with both hands on the table, and glanced at his bare finger. "You didn't get the ring?" she asked.

Troy was stunned. "You sent it?"

Wasn't it from Ayla?

"I promised to have dinner with you last night, but something came up at Professor Payne's office. I had to cancel. So I sent you a gift as an apology."

Skyla lifted her hand, showing the ring on her finger. "This brand doesn't make many men's rings. The only decent one is the couple's design that matches mine. I wear mine just for fun. I picked the one with the best design for you. You don't mind, do you?"

Of course, she already knew he wouldn't.

Troy suddenly remembered he’d thrown the ring box in the trash. He bent down, picked it up, and held it in his hand, no longer looking as disgusted as before.

Skyla's face tightened. "You threw it away?"

Troy gave her a glance, seeing right through her thoughts.

He opened the box, took out the ring, and slid it onto the ring finger of his left hand.

His gaze softened. "I didn't know it was from you."

That finally eased the tight expression on Skyla's face.

Max had once mentioned that Troy never wore a wedding ring unless it was absolutely necessary.

The reason was easy enough to guess.

Troy asked, "Were you upset?"

Skyla shook her head. "Not really. What you dislike isn't the ring itself."

It was the person who gave it.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"It looks great." He nodded, then asked, "So what kept you busy yesterday?"

Skyla sighed. "The project hit a major problem. I spent all night going through research at home but didn't have much luck. Luckily, a friend of mine runs a company that works in that field. I plan to ask her for help."

The owner's name was Halle. Funny enough, she was also an Agron University alum and a junior a few years younger than her.

They graduated from the same university, which made it easy for her to reach out to Halle.