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Chapter 2
The moment Sebastian Sinclair left, Eleanor Knight's phone lit up. A video call request from Lucas Chase flashed on the screen. She took a deep breath before answering.
On the screen, the young man stood in the kitchen, wearing a loose white shirt. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a glow around him. His tousled bangs swayed slightly as he chopped vegetables, his long lashes casting delicate shadows under his eyes.
"Babe, is the divorce finalized?" His voice was bright, laced with a hint of playful pleading.
Eleanor unconsciously pressed her lips together. Even though she was five years older, her heart still raced whenever she faced that face of his. No wonder all the girls at his university were obsessed with him.
"The agreement is signed," she said softly. "One more month, and it’ll be completely over."
Lucas' lips curled into a smirk, though his eyes darkened. "Then for this month, you’d better stay faithful to me, babe." He paused, his tone teasing yet firm. "I’ll be checking."
"Don’t be ridiculous!" Eleanor’s ears burned as she feigned annoyance.
Suddenly, he leaned closer to the camera, lowering his voice. "Babe, I’m only young in age..." He deliberately dragged out the words, his gaze suggestive. "Other places? Not so small."
Flustered, Eleanor quickly cut him off, coaxing him for a while before finally hanging up. She pressed her hands to her warm cheeks. This boy was perfect in every way—except for his relentless flirting.
The next day, she deliberately bought a calendar. From then on, the first thing she did every morning was tear off a page. October 1st to the 10th—Sebastian never came home once.
But she knew where he was. That intern, Isabella Whitlock, flooded her social media with their date photos—luxury restaurants, private golf courses, mountaintop mansions... For once, Sebastian had actually stayed with the same woman for three whole months.
The funniest part? Isabella had even added her on social media. All those thinly veiled boasts were laughably transparent. Eleanor couldn’t care less. They were getting divorced—why would she care?
In her free time, she thoroughly cleaned the house. Every gift she’d ever given Sebastian—the carefully chosen ties, the limited-edition watch she’d queued all night for, the handmade shoes she’d scoured the city to find—all went straight into the trash.
Along with them, she threw away every expectation and shred of sincerity she’d ever invested in this marriage.
On the thirteenth night, Sebastian finally returned. He stood in the middle of the living room, frowning at the noticeably emptier space.
"Where are my things?" he asked.
Eleanor didn’t look up from her magazine. "Thrown out."
"I paid for those," he said, irritation creeping into his voice.
"Which is why I can throw them out if I want." She finally met his gaze. "It’s not like you’re home to use them anyway."
Sebastian assumed she was jealous and casually sat beside her. "We agreed, didn’t we? Open relationship, no real feelings. Are you getting attached now?"
That same old excuse. Eleanor scoffed and closed the magazine, ready to leave.
Sebastian grabbed her wrist, pulling a gilded invitation from his suit pocket. "Don’t be mad. Come to the auction with me tomorrow. Buy whatever you want, hm?"
She was about to refuse—until she spotted the Sotheby’s logo. Well, since they were divorcing anyway, why not spend his money while she still could?