Remarried Three Times, I'm Done With My Trashy Husband

Evan did not come home that night.

A heavy storm had swept in after dark, and the death track still claimed its victim.

Evan's car had flipped over the guardrail. Beyond it lay the raging coastline. One more roll and he would have been swallowed by the sea.

Cora had dragged him out of the water herself, nearly risking her own life to do it.

That same night, Blaire finalized the divorce agreement with her lawyer. The moment she unlocked her phone, headlines flooded the screen.

"Evan Everett dances with death for a beauty."

"The beauty who saved him—will he choose new passion or old desire?"

......

After clearing the sensational nonsense, Blaire noticed that Evan had called her over a dozen times an hour earlier. Judging by the timing, he must have just been declared out of danger.

She had intended to ignore it. But for the sake of the divorce papers, she went to the hospital anyway.

Evan's room was empty. After asking around, she found Cora's hospital room instead.

From the doorway, she saw Evan wrapped in bandages, sitting vigil beside Cora's bed. He held her hand tightly, as though afraid she might vanish if he loosened his grip.

As if sensing her presence, Evan turned. His eyes were bloodshot. "Honey," he rasped.

Blaire walked in and handed him the document. "Sign it."

"What is this?"

He did not need her answer. The words Divorce Agreement were printed clearly across the cover.

His face drained of color as he stared at her. "I almost died in that crash. You're not even going to ask if I'm hurt? You're asking for a divorce?"

Blaire was silent for a moment before she spoke. "If my husband died for another woman, would that be something I should feel proud of? Evan, my reputation matters too. If you'd actually died, you would have dragged my name through the mud with you. So while you're still breathing, sign."

His jaw tightened, a vein pulsing at his temple.

"Everyone knows my primary and secondary personalities are different. Who, besides you, would blame a patient with dissociative identity disorder for being emotionally inconsistent? As for reputation, do you even have one left? Why are you so obsessed with meaningless pride that you keep giving up on me—on my feelings—over and over again?"

Blaire's fists clenched so hard her nails dug into her palms. Her voice trembled despite her restraint. "Evan, I'm the one giving up? I heard you. You're not sick at all…"

A strained groan slipped from Cora's lips. Evan immediately stood and leaned over her, checking on her condition with anxious care. Every gentle movement, every worried glance, cut so sharply that Blaire could barely stand there another second.

She repeated, more firmly, "Sign it."

"Blaire, do you have to be this aggressive? My secondary personality is a complete individual with his own thoughts. I gave him up once for you, but he came back. I can't strip him of his rights again."

Evan lowered his head, dragging a hand through his hair in exhaustion. Anger and agitation were tightly restrained in his voice.

"Blaire, you can't be this heartless and this greedy. We were happy—but what about them? They would die for each other. Their love isn't any less than ours."

Blaire had no interest in hearing another lie.

"Evan, either you sign, or I file through the court. Your choice."

He looked at her steadily, certainty soft in his tone. "You can't leave me. I know you love me. Just like I love you. We can't be apart. Honey, we've already divorced three times over this. Can you stop being difficult? Try to be understanding. Don't make this a scene."

Blaire let out a quiet laugh. "You think I'm making a scene?"

Evan said nothing. His flat, untroubled gaze answered for him.

She nodded once, unwilling to waste another word. "Then let's find out."