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Love Is as Deep as the Sea, It Is hard to Look Back Novel Cover

Love Is as Deep as the Sea, It Is hard to Look Back

After catching his beloved Sonya Cage purchasing his long-reserved custom suit for her male assistant, a powerful husband decides he is done playing second choice. Rather than starting a fight, he buys out every matching designer suit in the city to mock her betrayal. Armed with immense wealth, undeniable charm, and a freshly drafted divorce agreement courtesy of his best friend, he is ready to walk away. He has never lacked options, and he certainly won't start begging for her love now.
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Chapter 4

Unless absolutely necessary, I didn't want to bring up divorce with Sonya. The Cage and Phoenix families had been close for generations and Sonya and I had grown up as childhood friends.

However, she later went abroad to study and for about ten years, we had no contact. We reunited at a banquet where our families were planning a marriage alliance.

She was just as poised and beautiful as in her youth, handling questions from the elders effortlessly. Over the years, while I managed the family business, I also frequented nightclubs to relieve stress.

I had assumed that after so long apart, things between us would feel awkward and distant. Yet, when we were alone, beneath her graceful and composed exterior, I discovered a witty and charming side of her.

That youthful sense of familiarity resurfaced instantly. We were both in the prime of our careers and admired each other.

Before long, we were engaged and soon entered the institution of marriage. After our marriage, we became mutual shareholders, resulting in an unprecedented merger between the Cage and Phoenix Groups. Dividing assets after a divorce would be an incredibly complicated matter.

When I got home, my head was spinning. After washing up, I drank a cup of warm milk and prepared to sleep.

A goodnight message from Sonya popped up on my phone, complete with a cute kissing emoji. Even during a cold war, she never neglected her responsibilities.

The next morning, on my way to work, I was nearly knocked over by a girl with dyed blue hair in front of the office building.

My Stefano Ricci briefcase hit the ground, scraping off a piece of its leather. The girl's breakfast coffee arced through the air, splashing onto the hem of my coat.

The two security guards at the door immediately ran over, shouting at the girl for being careless. The girl, startled, panicked as she picked up my briefcase and handed it back to me.

She pulled out tissues to wipe the stain off my coat. Seeing the stain wouldn't come off, she grew desperate and knelt down to beg for forgiveness.

It was the dead of winter, yet she was wearing only a thin jacket. She wore sunglasses, but they didn't fully cover the dark bruises under her eyes.

Ignoring the stain on my coat, I frowned and focused on the damaged leather of my briefcase. Just then, I noticed Sonya standing across the street.

Her office building was just a block away from mine. She stood there quietly, her expression cold and severe.

For the first time, I saw disgust in her eyes. Perhaps, in her view, my aloof demeanor was another example of abusing power.

I didn't bother to correct her misunderstanding. Stepping back, I stopped the approaching guards and pulled the girl up by her arm and said, "I don't know what hardships you're facing, but as a girl, you must take care of yourself. No matter what you lose, don't lose your dignity, it's the one thing that belongs only to you."

The girl hastily gathered the garbage on the ground, apologizing and thanking me repeatedly. Then, flustered, she ran off. At the corner of the office building, she suddenly turned back, a subtle and enigmatic smile tugging at her lips.

Back at my office, I sat at my desk, staring at the damaged briefcase. The scuff wasn't significant, barely noticeable unless you looked closely. But once a flaw appears, perfection is gone forever.

Because the bag was valuable, even such a tiny imperfection would make repair nearly impossible. What was even harder to repair, though, was my relationship with Sonya. Her gaze that morning felt like a thorn lodged in my chest.

Lunch at my office had always been delivered from the Cage Family's private kitchen. To assert her status as Mrs. Phoenix and keep the women at my company at bay, Sonya had suggested joining me for lunch at the office.

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