With her hands balled into fists on her lap, Elle sat rigidly in the back of the car as it raced through the silent streets of Manila. The city lights flickered by, but she could only think of one thing: the moment Marco allowed Bianca to make fun of her, the moment he stood there as if he were a stranger while her entire world fell apart.

Every time she breathed, the pain in her chest grew worse. The circumstances went beyond simple treachery. She could never have envisioned this nightmare. She also didn't want to remain stuck in it.

Elle opened the door before the driver could get out when they arrived in their driveway. The sharp clicks of her heels reverberated in the opulent marble foyer as she bounded into the house. Like their marriage, everything within was immaculate and unaltered. Their exterior beauty belied the hollowness within.

Marco trailed her inside, walking more slowly, his face unreadable, his tie loose. She was frustrated at his silence.

Elle's voice was sharp as she spun around. "How long?"

As though she were merely a bother, Marco sighed and rubbed his temple. "It's late, Elle."

With an icy tone, she repeated, "How long, Marco?" "You've been making fun of me for how long?"

He let out a slow exhale. "Is it important?"

Under her shift, Elle felt the ground. The room's air grew heavier. Her eyes were burning, and it took all of her strength to keep from crying.

She muttered, "It matters to me."

Marco's expression remained icy as he met her gaze. "All right. I haven't loved you in a long time, if you want the truth.

Marco wasn't done, but Elle took a sharp breath.

"Perhaps I never did."

More powerful than any physical blow, his words were a slap. Her hand reached for the dining table's edge as she stumbled back, trying to steady herself. She believed they were partners and had sacrificed for him for years. He was now discarding everything as though it had no significance.

Her voice wavered, but it was with anger rather than weakness. "So, why did you marry me?"

Marco shook his head and laughed without humor. "You were the ideal spouse. Astute. Positioned. I come from a decent household. I come from a decent household, like you. But it was wallowing—just an arrangement, Elle. It was a strategic decision. And it worked for a while. However, it stopped working when you began asking for more than I could provide."

Elle's jaw tightened. "You mean up until I desired a real marriage? Did I fail to earn your respect? Your affection?"

Marco laughed. Elle, you were always overly invested in the business. You were always so focused on proving yourself and making sure everything was flawless. Perhaps things would have turned out differently if you had been my wife more often rather than my business partner.

Elle felt her breath catch in her throat. "Are you holding me responsible for this?"

Marco's eyes grew serious. "Perhaps I am."

Anger made her body tremble. When rumors circulated that he was too ambitious and too cruel, she stood up for him. Nevertheless, he had never stood up for her.

With her fingers encircling the diamond ring she had worn for years, Elle reached for her left hand. She reached for the symbol of a union that had been a meticulously crafted delusion.

She pulled it off with a sharp tug and tossed it at him. Before it fell to the floor between them, the ring struck Marco's chest.

After a moment of staring at it, Marco turned back to face her. "So that’s it?"

Despite the weight crushing her heart, Elle straightened and raised her chin. "No, Marco. This moment is only the start.

She pivoted on her heel and strode off, her resolve unwavering, her steps steady.

Why should she stay if Marco didn't need her anymore?

One thought raced through her head as she climbed the stairs to their bedroom—no, her bedroom.

He refused to destroy her.

No longer.

Marco would discover his mistake if he thought the present marked the end of it.