Hallie’s POV

“1 million going once…twice…And sold! Congratulation Mr. Haynes! For this gorgeous antique sapphire necklace!”

There is a stammering applause when I stand up from my seat to receive this breathtaking piece of jewelry on my husband’s behalf. A bright spotlight hits on me when I come up stage, making me the most prominent figure in this hall.

“Good evening, everyone. It’s a great honor to be here tonight. My husband and I have always been committed to giving back to the community…”

I give my prepared speech fluently. Watson doesn’t like to appear in front of the public’s eyes. Married to him for three years, I’ve been getting good at receiving awards and giving speeches on his behalf.

“And finally…” I wrap up my short speech and wave at my husband’s direction with a smile, “…This is a beautiful gift. Thank you, my love.”

There is a brief laughter down stage, and also a few hostile gazes. I can feel some women are glaring at me.

Nevertheless, I started as his assistant. I was a broken college graduate.

Yet now, I’m the wife of the CEO of Haynes Enterprise. My luck is enough to make people jealous, not to mention that my husband just spent 1 million dollars on a gift to me.

It’s safe to say that I’m living most women’s dream.

When come back to our table, the dinner party has already started. There is an enthusiastic discussion going on the table when I sit down.

“Congratulation, Mrs. Haynes.” A lady turns to me and says, “This is a great 27-years-old birthday gift.”

“Thank you,” I answer politely, pretending not to sense the bitterness in her tone. “So, what are we just talking about?”

“Oh, I was just about to share a great news.”

“Which is?”

I pretend to be intrigued while picking up my silvers. I have been on a week-long diet just to fit in this gown. I’m starving now.

“Sydney Chapman is back to the States.”

Knife and fork slips through my fingers and drop to my plate, creating a loud noise.

Everyone on the table turns to me, including my husband, Watson.

“…Sorry,” I quickly apologize and hide away my fleeting panic.

But no one cares about my clumsiness. They are all drown to this explosive news.

“Do you mean THE Sydney Chapman?” someone asks excitedly.

“Of course. The international model who just made a blast in Milan Fashion Week. She is relocating back to New York!”

“Oh my god. I watched her show once. She is absolutely gorgeous…”

The table bursts into a round of enthusiastic discussion about how successful and beautiful Sydney is.

I want to see Watson’s reaction towards this. But I don’t want to stare at his face, which will definitely displease him. So I secretly turn my spoon and try to study his reflection in it.

“Mrs. Haynes,” somebody tries to engage me in their conversation, “Do you know Sydney Chapman?”

Of course, I do.

I know her as an international model, the person who makes all other women take a hit on their self-esteem.

But most importantly, I also know her as the love of my husband’s life.

Watson and I have been married for three years. But even till this day, the photo that sits on Watson’s study is not our family portrait, but Sydney’s hardcover shot.

That’s how important she is to him.

Everyone the table is staring at me, waiting for my answer.

But I can’t say anything or act strangely.

I can’t let anyone know that our marriage is about to hit a roadblock.

“No. I don’t know her personally,” I force out a smile.

For the rest of evening, I’ve been pouring champagne down my throat non-stop. I know I need to have a talk with Watson tonight, about Sydney. But I can’t do it without a little help from alcohol.

By the time we leave, I’m already a little tipsy. I have to cling onto Watson’s arm to stay balanced.

But he shakes me off as soon as we get into the car and disappear from public’s eyes.

“You are drunk,” his tone is cold.

I rub my forehead and try to stay sharp, “No I’m fine. I’m just…having a little headache.”

Fuck. I might have a little too much of that magic potion.

The car lapses into a deathly silence. We sit in the back seat, only a few feet far from each other. But we both choose to stare at the window without a word.

Things have always been like this. In front of the public, we are the perfect couple; when we are alone, we are basically strangers.

“Hallie.”

He breaks the silence first.

My heart sinks instantly. Shit, is he going to talk about her? But I’m not ready yet.

So I change the subject awkwardly, “What’s your schedule next week? Are we still going to that convention in Portland?”

He doesn’t answer. This silence is killing me.

My heart aches. A huge downfall is waiting ahead but I’m trying to drag it as long as possible.

“Do you think I should wear that necklace to the convention?” I ask in a light tone, “Or is it a bit too high-profile to—”

“Hallie,” he cuts me off, determinedly.

I stop, nibbling my bottom lip.

“Let’s get a divorce,” he says deeply.

The hanging sword finally fell on my neck.

Tears well up in my eyes as my nerve snaps. I clench my gown so hard that my knuckles turn white, my voice shrill and high, “Is it because Sydney—”

He interrupts me again, “Don’t forget what you agreed to in the first place.”

Words freeze on my lips.

Three years ago, I was still his assistant. One day he came into my little cubicle and placed a life-changing agreement on my desk.

“I know you are having financial issues,” he said. “Sign this contract and become my wife. No questions asked. And I get to terminate this agreement anytime I want. In exchange, I’ll take care of your troubles.”

I was living on paycheck to paycheck, hunted by my landlord and creditors. He gave me a way out, knowing that it’s a proposal I wouldn’t be able to reject.

He kept his promise and rescued me from my hell. Three years later, I’m living every woman’s dream.

But now, he is taking everything away.

“Watson…” I say with a quivering voice, “Can you at least think about it again? It’s been three years already. I have done everything you asked. I’m good at being your wife…Please don’t divorce me.”

I’m throwing my pride and self-esteem away, basically begging him.

There’s another long pause.

“I’ll give you another 2 million as settlement fee. Our marriage is business. Don’t make it personal,” he finally says.

Tears stream down my cheek. I turn to the window and try to hide away my crying face.

Then I hear his cold voice again:

“And that sapphire necklace is not for you. Leave it in our apartment when you move out.”