A painful marriage: Mr. CEO, let's get a divorce

"Who was that woman?"

Dante Hendricks knew that cold voice all too well - the kind that could freeze a man to the bone.

He looked up indifferently and, upon seeing Randolph Carwyn, walked past him without stopping.

Randolph placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Tazanna is looking for you," he said in a dry tone.

Dante brushed his hand away with disdain.

"I've told you many times, I have nothing to do with her. Randolph, don't ever come talk to me about that again."

In his once dull eyes flashed a spark of hatred.

It was a completely different look from the one he'd had a few minutes ago.

"Tazanna has a fever. She's been delirious all day and night, calling out for you," Randolph insisted.

Meanwhile, Abigail, after climbing over the school wall as usual, finally felt she could breathe.

But her mind was still filled with the image of Randolph Carwyn.

Under the moonlight, his cold, sculpted face looked like marble. She would never forget that indifferent gaze, one that seemed to look down upon the world from an unreachable height.

It was a different kind of coldness than Dante Hendricks's.

Dante's was the coldness of a man who had given up on life; Randolph's was that of someone who ruled over the world and despised its misery.

For the first time, Abigail understood what true fear felt like.

Everything that had happened that night seemed like a dream. It was hard to believe so much had occurred in just a few hours.

The night wind grew colder. Abigail crossed her arms for warmth and walked toward the dormitory building.

"Abigail." A voice and a tap on her shoulder made her jump.

Acting on instinct, she pulled out her knife, but when she saw her friend Rishima, she let out a sigh of relief.

"Crazy cat. You scared me to death."

"Hey, I was just worried. You didn't answer your phone," Rishima said, sounding offended.

Abigail glanced sideways at her without replying. She let her friend take her arm as they walked to the dorm.

Fortunately, they lived on the second floor; otherwise, Abigail might have slept outside.

"Abigail, did something happen?" Rishima asked curiously.

On normal days, even if Abigail came back late from work, they always chatted a bit before sleeping.

But that night, her dull, distant face said everything.

"It's nothing," Abigail said, trying to sound natural. "But if you see any suspicious men around the school these days, tell me right away."

Her voice was tense.

"What? Gangsters at school? Abigail, did you offend someone?" Rishima asked, frightened.

"Don't ask so much. Just do it if you see something strange," Abigail said, trying to hide her fear.

She knew Claude wouldn't let her go so easily. She had to be prepared.

"Alright," Rishima nodded.

The two climbed up the building's drainpipe to their dorm window.

A week later.

"Abigail, wake up. You're going to be late."

Half-asleep, Abigail grumbled,

"What's the rush... I don't have class this morning... let me sleep... I worked all night..."

Rishima yanked the blanket away.

"Get up. Dante Hendricks is giving a speech at school today. Everyone's there, and you're still sleeping."

"Dante Hendricks? Who's that?" Abigail asked, eyes half-closed.

"You're unbelievable," her friend exclaimed. "Dante Hendricks, the future head of the Hendricks Group, is the only heir of the Hendricks family. Every girl's dream."

But as she looked closer at Abigail, Rishima noticed her red, swollen eyes and traces of dried tears.

Had she been crying last night?

School auditorium.

Abigail looked at the man on stage - the same face that had watched her that night at the bar - and a chill ran down her spine.

Now, dressed in a suit with a serious expression, he seemed completely different.

There was no trace of the decadent young man drowning himself in alcohol, yet his eyes were still clouded with sadness.

"So that's Dante Hendricks?" Abigail whispered, tugging at Rishima's sleeve.

"Yes, why do you ask? Hey, where are you going?"

Abigail didn't answer. She stood up and began pushing through the crowd.

"I don't want to hear any more," she said, walking away.

"You're skipping Dante? What a waste," Rishima shouted, confused.

But she stayed, fascinated by the chance to see such a famous heir in person.

"Don't push me."

"Watch my clothes."

"Ouch, my foot."

"Sorry, sorry," Abigail murmured as she moved slowly through the students.

I shouldn't have come, she thought.

Not far away, a rough-looking man with a nasty grin turned to another.

"Boss, isn't that the girl from the bar?"

Claude lifted his head.

"What? ... Ah, it's her. Get her."

He had been searching for her for days without success, and now she was right in front of him.

When Abigail heard the shouts behind her, her face went pale.

She started running, pushing people aside.

Behind her, chaos erupted.

"Students, please stay calm," the host shouted from the stage.

But amid the noise, a familiar cry made Dante raise his head.

That voice...

Through the crowd, he saw a woman throwing whatever she could find at the men chasing her.

Was it her?

Without thinking, Dante left the stage and ran after her.

He hadn't seen her in a week.

He hadn't gone back to the bar since that night.

He'd thought their paths would never cross again.

But fate seemed to have other plans.

"Mr. Dante, where are you going?" someone shouted behind him.