Dear Ex: Your 'Love Test' Blew Up

Theo loved to play with women, but he had a cleanliness obsession.

He couldn't tolerate any man coveting the women he had slept with.

At the dance institute, a security guard liked to watch me dance.

Theo saw it and had him fired by the director that very day.

Theo Pembroke even pressed charges against him for harassment and sent him to the police.

I bit my lip and let out a laugh from the humiliation.

"Yes, just like you thought. I've slept with all the men at the dance institute. Want to send them all to jail?"

Theo narrowed his eyes, voice hoarse.

"Is that so?"

Suddenly, he picked me up and carried me to the bathroom.

He really suspected me!

"If you're dirty, then let's clean you up."

He threw me into the bathtub and aimed the showerhead at my face.

Cold water poured down.

Goosebumps spread across my skin.

I struggled, but couldn't push his hand away.

Under the shock of the cold water, my PTSD was triggered.

The plane crash from when I was thirteen flashed through my mind.

I trembled all over, curling up in a corner.

Theo Pembroke thought I was faking illness again.

"Esme Fairchild, don't forget the reason you married me. You're not here to enjoy life, you're here to atone for your sins!"

That sentence again, the one he's repeated countless times.

This was our usual mode of interaction.

Nine out of ten of his words were laced with malice.

Seeing my dazed eyes and how I was about to slam into the wall, Theo Pembroke panicked and carried me to the bed.

"What's wrong? Are you feeling unwell..."

"Theo, all these years you've tortured me enough, and I've tortured myself enough too. Let's just let each other go!"

Furious,I threw the divorce papers on the nightstand in his face.

He stared at the signature line and gave a cold sneer.

"You're so eager to divorce me. Is there another man out there?"

I pressed my lips together and said nothing.

He slammed the door and left.

Tears streamed down my face.

Thankfully, after tomorrow, I'll finally be free.

The next day, Theo Pembroke texted me.

"If you want me to sign, come to Hilton Hotel. I've had the maid prepare your clothes."

It was a modified suit, making my shoulders look broad and my waist narrow.

Pushing open the private room door, a crowd of people turned to look at me.

Lydia Montague's smile was especially piercing.

"Esme, Mr. Brown wants to see someone dance. I twisted my ankle, so I'll have to trouble you."

The man's gaze landed on me, as if he wanted to devour me.

This was Theo Pembroke's purpose for having me here - to dance in Lydia Montague's place.

"Esme, don't you want a divorce? I'll grant your wish. As long as you dance well enough to please him, I'll sign."

He spoke word by word into my ear.

Then pushed me in front of Mr. Brown.

Mr. Brown wrapped his arm around my waist, his eyes glazed.

"They say a willow waist sways like a palace beauty. Now I see it with my own eyes. Don't worry, I've promised Mr. Pembroke - I'll only touch, won't do anything real. Dance well for me tonight, and I'll agree to contract with Pembroke Group for the second half of the year."

I stared at Theo Pembroke in disbelief.

Everyone in the circle knew Mr. Brown had a waist fetish. He couldn't move his feet when he saw a slim waist.

Last time, a client sent him a slender girl - rumor has it she ended up in the hospital, her waist broken.

I broke free from Mr. Brown's arms, but hadn't run far when Theo Pembroke grabbed me.

"Esme Fairchild, stop being so pretentious, will you? It's just a touch - you're not going to lose a piece of flesh. This is your bargaining chip with me."

So, this was the price of divorce!