Chapter 3

Liam Montgomery seemed terrified I'd contact Maya.

He took me to the office, keeping me under his watchful eye every second.

Even during meetings, he'd hand me paper and a pen, letting me doodle behind him.

I had to admit, he looked incredibly handsome when he was working.

His eyes, behind his gold-rimmed glasses, were intently focused on the screen.

He would interject at crucial moments, sharp and incisive.

He showed little emotion, occasionally glancing back at me as if to say: *Isn't this boring? It'll be over soon.*

But that meeting dragged on for ages, so long I was about to fall asleep.

I was used to it; he was the kind of man who would rush back to the office on our wedding anniversary because of a subordinate's blunder.

Leaving me alone on the top floor of a hotel, staring at flowers and cake.

I had to call Maya to come over; otherwise, such a big bed would go to waste.

It wasn't until his secretary knocked, announcing, "Ms. Hayes is here,"

"We'll pick up the details tomorrow. This is enough for today."

Only Charlotte could pull him away from his work.

I followed behind him, seeing Charlotte for the first time.

I had searched for her online: 25 years old, a remarkably clean record, no negative rumors.

Not even a peep from the media about her being the daughter of the Hayes family, suggesting her family protected her very well.

She wore a white dress, identical to the one in her 18-year-old photo.

I suddenly understood why both brothers were so hung up on her.

That clean, pure aura she exuded—no man could resist it.

She sweetly called out, "Liam, I hope I'm not interrupting you?"

She completely ignored me, probably assuming I was just an insignificant secretary.

Liam said, "No, you've come at just the right time."

He turned and instructed his secretary to take me to the lounge.

He even reminded her to order my favorite desserts and fruit tea.

He looked like the picture of a caring man.

But that caring man didn't spare me a single glance the entire time.

The air conditioning in the lounge was blasting, and the cold seeped right into my heart.

I looked at the dozen missed calls from Maya on my phone and called her back.

This time, I was the one who asked:

"Maya, are you still getting a divorce?"

A few seconds of silence on the other end, then her resolute voice came through.

"Yes."