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

Blaire had formally filed for divorce through her lawyer. The lawyer gently reminded her that the more evidence they gathered of Evan's infidelity, the stronger her case would be.

She stared at the message for a long time, a strange mix of clarity and bitter self-mockery settling over her.

Once, she had been kidnapped by one of Evan's rivals. He had nearly died on that same track trying to save her.

That was when the so-called psychological break had begun—when he claimed to have split into a second personality, one created solely to protect a primary self devoted only to Blaire.

Blaire had believed him without hesitation. She had even blamed herself. That was why she kept turning back, again and again. Only now did she realize it had all been a lie from the very beginning.

There was nothing left in this marriage worth hesitating over.

She was about to reply to her lawyer when she heard movement at the entryway.

Evan walked in on crutches. It had only been a short time since she had seen him, yet the exhaustion in his face seemed heavier.

"I've signed the divorce papers," he said quietly. "I'll ask you one more time. Are you sure you want this?"

Blaire's expression did not change. She nodded. "I'm sure."

Evan gave a soft acknowledgment and placed the documents on the table.

Blaire flipped to the last page and signed her name neatly beside his bold, sweeping signature.

A muffled sob broke the silence.

She turned her head and realized that at some point, Evan had begun to cry. Tears streamed openly down his face.

"I don't want a divorce," he said hoarsely.

Blaire believed him.

She had never doubted his love for her. Just as she no longer doubted that he would betray her again. Both were fixed truths.

The divorce papers were crumpled in his fist, tear stains blotting the ink beside his name.

Evan was not a man who cried easily. But he always cried for Blaire.

He had cried while begging for another chance. He had cried, saying he did not know what to do. He had cried, whispering that he loved her more than anything.

The man who stood dignified before the world, capable of carrying an entire conglomerate on his shoulders, had turned into someone fragile and desperate whenever he faced Blaire after each divorce.

Blaire parted her lips, intending to speak—then her gaze caught the brand-new diamond ring on his hand.

"Cora wants us divorced." Evan traced the ring with his thumb as he explained in a strained voice. "She saved my life. This is the only thing she asked for. I owe her that. I promised that when the secondary personality comes back, I'll give her a wedding. It will be as if I've married her. But legally, you're still my only wife. I've arranged everything. The sixteenth of next month is ideal. We'll divorce now and remarry that day."

Even now, he clung stubbornly to that absurd theory of dual personalities.

"You think the courthouse is some tourist spot you can check in and out of?" A dull, numb ache spread across Blaire's chest. She spoke slowly, each word deliberate. "Evan, I told you. This is the last time."

His eyes reddened further. He was about to speak when a sharp, arrogant ringtone shattered the moment.

Whatever he heard on the other end made his expression darken instantly.

A cold, accusatory gaze fell on Blaire. "Blaire, what did you do to Cora?"