The divorce agreement hit the mahogany table with a dull thud.
"Sign it," Mark Qin said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "My mother has lost her patience, Aria. Three years. You've been in the Qin family for three years and haven't produced an heir. The Qin family doesn't raise useless people."
Aria Lin sat on the edge of the sofa, her hands clenched in her lap. She looked at the man she had loved for three years. He was handsome, wealthy, and currently looking at her as if she were a stain on his expensive suit.
Standing behind him was his mother, Mrs. Qin, sipping tea with a look of disdain. And next to her? Her own stepsister, Chloe, rubbing her slightly protruding belly.
"Sis," Chloe said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "Don't blame Mark. I didn't mean to get pregnant... it just happened. The Qin family needs a successor."
Aria let out a cold, dry laugh. "So, infidelity is now a duty?"
"Watch your mouth!" Mrs. Qin slammed her teacup down. "You are being kicked out because you are incompetent! Take the settlement money and leave. Don't make a scene at the grandfather's birthday banquet tonight."
Aria stood up. She picked up the pen. She didn't cry. The tears had dried up months ago when she realized her husband never came home before midnight.
"I don't want the money," Aria said, signing her name with a flourish. "And I don't want the apartment. I want a clean break."
Mark looked surprised, then sneered. "Playing the martyr? Fine. Leave with nothing. Let's see how you survive on the streets."
Aria threw the pen down. "Mark, remember this moment. You are throwing me away today like trash. But in the future, even if you kneel and beg, I won't look at you twice."
"Beg you?" Mark laughed, wrapping his arm around Chloe. "You are a delusional, penniless woman. Get out."
Aria turned and walked out of the villa. Thunder rumbled overhead, and the rain began to pour, soaking her instantly. It was a cliché, she thought. The discarded wife walking in the rain.
But she wasn't going to cry. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a sleek, black business card. It had no name, only a gold-embossed phone number. It was given to her two years ago by a man she had helped in a car accident—a man the entire Qin family was terrified of.
She dialed the number.
"Hello?" A voice answered. It was deep, magnetic, and cold as the rain.
"Mr. Qin," Aria said, her voice steady. "You owe me a favor. Is that offer still valid?"
"Speak," the man replied.
"I'm currently single. I need a husband. And I need him to be someone who can make Mark Qin regret being born."
There was a long silence on the other end. Then, a low chuckle that sent shivers down her spine.
"Stay where you are. I'm coming."