"Divorce?"

Olivia Hayes curled her lip, her voice laced with weary condescension. "Ethan, stop the dramatics."

"You finally took home the win at the International Culinary Grand Prix. I’m hosting a victory gala for you tomorrow night. What do you want as a gift? Just name it, and I’ll make it happen."

Olivia spoke with such chilling nonchalance, as if the scene of her tangled in the sheets with another man just moments ago hadn't happened at all.

Ethan Spencer’s eyes burned red. He gritted his teeth, his voice a low, jagged blade. "I said, I want a divorce."

"Olivia, you know my resolve. If you don't agree, I’ll file for a contested divorce. I’ll drag this out until you have no other choice."

Olivia’s gaze darkened, a flash of irritation crossing her face. "Fine. I’ll give you two options."

"Option one: You stay my husband. Under the protection of the Hayes Group, you can chase your little culinary dreams and be a 'star chef,' provided you keep your nose out of my private life and allow Damon to see Eli under the guise of being his father."

"Option two: We divorce right here, right now. The consequence? You’ll be blacklisted from the entire industry. You won’t be able to survive a single day in South City."

She tilted her head, watching him coolly. "So, do you still want to get divorced?"

Damon Meyer let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Even a fool would know which one to pick."

"I was the one who failed Olivia in the past; she only chose you out of spite. But the man she’s always loved is me. The Meyer and Hayes estates are deeply intertwined in our business dealings, Ethan. Damon and I prefer to keep things casual—we aren't planning on marriage anytime soon."

Ethan stared at the two of them, his breath hitching as he bit down on his lip until he tasted blood.

A sharp, visceral ache tore through his chest, leaving him breathless. For a fleeting second, he was pulled back to the day they first met.

Back then, Olivia had just broken away from the Hayes family. With her funding cut off, she was left with nothing but a failing hotel on the verge of bankruptcy. Ethan had come to South City from his home in the coastal metropolis to chase his dreams. She had seen his talent and kept him.

He spent months developing new recipes; she tasted them. He poured his soul into reviving her hotel, and within a month, it became the talk of South City.

He became a star chef, and just as he hit his stride, she reconciled with her family.

They grew closer, and one drunken night, a line was crossed. When she turned up pregnant, he married her. Throughout her pregnancy, he had coddled her, catering to every whim. For the four years since Eli was born, he had poured every ounce of fatherly love he had into the boy.

For five years, he believed they were happy. He believed she loved him.

When he first entered high society, the elites mocked him for being "just a cook." She would drop multi-million dollar projects just to stand by his side and shut them up. When he fell ill, she’d fly halfway across the globe just to be there to look after him.

But now, he realized those five years of companionship were nothing but a calculated lie.

She used him as a human shield. She cheated with Damon right under his nose. She forced him to raise another man’s child and exploited his reputation as a chef to bolster her hotel’s image, sucking him dry until there was nothing left.

Olivia watched his agony with clinical detachment. She didn't offer comfort; she grew impatient, checking her watch. "Have you decided?"

Ethan met her eyes, every word precise and hollow. "I want a divorce."

The icy facade on Olivia’s face shattered, replaced by a surge of pure, ugly rage. "Fine. Let’s see how long you last on your own!"

She signaled for her secretary, Joy Bailey, to bring over the documents. She signed her name with a sharp, aggressive flick of her pen.

Ethan followed suit, his signature cutting deep into the paper.

Olivia stood up, her voice freezing the air around them. "Ethan, as of this moment, you have lost the protection of the Hayes Group. I hope you’re ready to pay the price for this choice."

"I’ll be waiting for you to come crawling back."

She gave him one final, withering look, straightened her back, and walked away. Joy and her security team scrambled to follow. Damon Meyer shot Ethan a look of pure, toxic triumph before sliding into the back of a waiting Maybach.

Ethan stood alone in the biting wind, silence ringing in his ears.

His fingers hovered over his phone screen for three seconds, his eyes fixed on a contact number from his home in the coastal city.

He was the heir to the Spencer family, an elite dynasty, but he had left five years ago to chase his own path. He had boasted that he would make it on his own—that the only reason he would ever reach out was if he were truly beaten.

He wasn't ready to go back. Not yet.

As he hesitated, an international call flashed on his screen. Ethan answered. A voice spoke in crisp, formal English. "Mr. Spencer? We’ve received a report alleging cheating during the competition. The committee has reached a unanimous decision."

The voice paused, a cold, clinical tone delivering the verdict. "We are stripping you of your title, revoking your award, and expelling you from the association. You are permanently barred from any future sanctioned events."

Ethan stood frozen, his phone slipping slightly in his sweaty palm.

How? That was impossible.

He had traded sleepless nights and tireless practice for that honor. Was it all just... gone? Just like that?