Chapter One
At eighteen, I saw my sister slide her hand under Donovan Sutton’s shirt, her fingers tracing the hard lines of his abs. The boy’s shirt hung loose, and he let her do as she pleased.
At twenty–two, Donovan Sutton married me, an arrangement dictated by his family.
But everyone knew, even with his ring on my finger, he could never let go of the sister he passionately loved. Then, I asked for a divorce.
He was silent for a long time before signing the papers.
“If you ever need help,” he said, his voice flat, “just ask.”
At twenty–eight, I came back for his wedding to my sister.
He stared at the man beside me, his eyes dark and menacing.
“Was this why you were in such a hurry to divorce me?” he hissed. “For him?”
“I hear Carys Merrick is back.”
“I remember, she was the one who filed for divorce, right?”
“Now that Donovan is the head of the Sutton family, I wonder if she regrets it.”
“What’s there to regret? She stole her sister’s marriage in the first place. This is just things going back to how they should be.”
The voices drifted from the private room just as I reached the door.
For three years, the rumors about me never stopped.
They said I was playing hard to get.
Even my own parents thought so.
The day we divorced, my mother’s words were a cold slap.
“Now that you’re divorced, don’t contact him again.”
“Your sister’s leg is injured. She needs Donovan right now. Don’t provoke her.”
When I just stared at the floor, she added, her voice sharp with disdain:
“This marriage was supposed to be hers anyway. If she hadn’t gone abroad to study, it never would have been your turn.” My sister, Genevieve Merrick, and Donovan Sutton were the golden couple of our circle, envied by all.
But on the eve of their wedding, Genevieve ran.
The news of the union between our two powerful families had already been announced.
Facing immense public pressure, the Sutton matriarch made a swift decision: the bride would be me.
I don’t know how they convinced him, but Donovan agreed to marry me.
For three years, we were like any other married couple on the surface.
But everyone knew he’d never gotten over Genevieve.
He never let me into his study.
One day, he forgot to lock the door. I peeked through the crack and felt my world freeze over.
The walls were covered in wedding photos. His and Genevieve’s.
I had never seen that version of Donovan.
His expression was so alive, so tender, so focused.
His entire world was Genevieve.
The idea of divorce took root in my mind that day.
The day I finally decided, I overheard him on the phone.
His voice was a soft, gentle murmur I’d never heard directed at me.
“It’s okay, don’t be scared, I’ll be there in ten minutes… Don’t you move. Wait for me. Be good.” The moment he turned, he saw me.
I spoke calmly. “Dinner’s ready. You should eat before you go.”
He barely paused, already heading for the door.
“You eat. Don’t wait for me.”
Just as he reached the entryway, I called his name again.
His face was tight with impatience. “What is it?”
“Donovan,” I said, my voice steady. “Let’s get a divorce.”
When the news of our divorce reached my parents, the papers were already signed.
Donovan hadn’t been stingy. He gave me half of his assets.
My parents summoned me home that night.
They interrogated me like a criminal, demanding to know why I’d been so heartless as to take half of Donovan’s fortune. “Carys, what have I taught you? Did you marry him just for his money?”
Genevieve stood nearby, leaning on a cane, tears streaming down her face.
“Carys, are you mad at me? Are you mad that I came back and stole Donovan from you…?”
My parents cut her off before she could finish.
‘Donovan was always meant to be your husband! If you hadn’t been so selfish and run off, you and Donovan would have a kid in kindergarten by now!”
Genevieve loved Donovan, but she loved dancing more,
Shortly after accepting his proposal, she’d received an offer from a world–renowned dance company in Paris. She’d dropped Donovan without a second thought and fled the country.
For three years, she and Donovan had almost no contact.
