Chapter 1 Still a Virgin It was a secret Quinn Lane guarded with a burning shame: after three years of marriage, she was still a virgin. The reek of whiskey on Chase Sterling's breath was suffocating as he slammed her against the cold wall. His grip was a brutal vise, his fingers digging into her chin, forcing her head up to meet his gaze. His voice was a low, mocking drawl. "You want me to kiss you? Forget it. I will never touch you!" Quinn had lost count of how many times she had heard those words. "God, Quinn, you're just so..." he said and leaned in, his voice a venomous whisper in her ear. "Pathetic. Even after all this, you're still pathetically in love with me." Quinn squeezed her eyes shut, her lashes trembling against her skin. This was far from the first time his words had been weapons. She should have been numb to it by now. Her heart should have turned to stone. But a familiar ache still bloomed deep inside her, a relentless tide of pain crashing over her again and again. They say death by a thousand cuts was the cruelest form of ancient torture. But the agony Chase inflicted was a thousand times worse. It felt as though every cell in her body was screaming, with nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. It wasn't just that he didn't love her. It was the crushing weight of reality, the bitter regret for everything she had done. She had been a fool to cling to the fantasy that her love could one day thaw his frozen heart. "What right do you have to cry, Quinn?" he snarled. "You owe me this! All of this is your fault!" He finally released her, yanking off his tie as he stalked toward the bathroom. Quinn's body slid down the cool wall until she crumpled to the floor. She hugged her knees to her chest, burying her face in the soft fabric of her pajama pants as silent tears soaked through. She had been married to Chase for three years, and she had endured this private hell for just as long. The warmth and affection he had once shown her felt like a distant dream, a puff of smoke that had long since vanished. All that remained was a hollow, aching bitterness. She was lost in a fog-shrouded swamp with no solid ground beneath her feet and no way out. She didn't know how long she sat there before the chime of her phone shattered the silence. The sound pulled her back to the present. When she tried to move, a jolt of pins and needles shot through her numb legs. Gritting her teeth, she pushed herself up, steadying her trembling body against the wall as she reached for her phone. She took a deep, shaky breath before answering. "Quinn, honey, it's Mom." The voice of her adoptive mother, Elaine Lane, came through the speaker. Quinn managed a quiet, "Hi." "Rosalie called. It's getting cold where she is, and she wants a new comforter," Elaine said, her tone brisk. "Quinn, I need you to make her two of them. Use that super-soft fabric you always use, and make sure the stitching is perfect. Well, I think I don't need to tell you that. I know you'll do a good job." "Mom..." Quinn started, "I don't have time these next few days. I'm in the middle of a design competition..." Elaine cut her off. "What competition could possibly be more important than your sister? Have you lost all sense of priority? Get them done in the next two days. I'll have someone pick them up, understand?" The line went dead. Quinn stared blankly at her phone. A fresh wave of despair washed over her, and a single tear escaped, splashing onto the back of her hand. She sniffled, took another deep breath, and opened her messages to text Rosalie Lane. Rosalie was her older sister, though they shared no blood. Quinn was an orphan, adopted by the Lane family when she was just two years old. It wasn't until she was older that she understood why. The Lane family had a daughter who had been lost, and the grief had nearly destroyed Elaine. Adopting Quinn was their way of trying to piece their lives back together. But then, the unthinkable happened. When Quinn was six, their biological daughter, eight-year-old Rosalie, was found. And just like that, the Lane family had two daughters. One was their own flesh and blood, miraculously returned. The other was an orphan, a stranger. Though the Lane family claimed to the world that they loved both girls equally, a performance that earned them endless praise from neighbors and friends for their kindness and generosity, Quinn knew the truth. The phrase she heard most often growing up was, "Your sister was taken, Quinn. She suffered so much. Now that she's finally home, don't you think you should give her what she wants?" So, Rosalie's needs always came first. And Quinn's role was to serve them. For years, Quinn had done everything Rosalie asked without question. After all, Rosalie's parents had saved her from a life in an orphanage. But three years ago, Rosalie had abruptly decided to study abroad. Everyone begged her not to go, but she was resolute. She left Quinn to face the fallout. Just before she left, Rosalie had said, "For Quinn's happiness, I have to leave." That one sentence had shackled Quinn in guilt, branding her an ungrateful wretch who had driven her perfect sister away. Quinn had tried to explain, but no one would listen. Then Chase had proposed. Quinn was ecstatic, blinded by what she thought was love. It was only after the wedding that she understood the truth: this marriage was her punishment. It was only after they were married that she learned the man whose ring she wore was in love with her sister. Not just Chase, but all of their childhood friends now looked at her with resentment. From the day Rosalie left, Quinn's life had become a living hell. To make matters worse, Rosalie would call Chase from overseas, urging him to take good care of Quinn. In front of Quinn, Chase was domineering, cruel, and even violent. But on the phone with Rosalie, his voice would soften, becoming gentle, cultured, almost reverent. He told Quinn that he had only ever been kind to her in the first place because she was Rosalie's little sister. Quinn had mistaken his kindness for something more. A young girl experiencing her first crush, she had fallen hopelessly for the handsome, charming man who seemed to dote on her. She had confessed her feelings, and he had rejected her. She cried herself to sleep that night, and the very next day, Rosalie announced she was leaving the country. At the airport, Rosalie had whispered to her, "Anyone's heart can be won, Quinn. Just be good to Chase, and I promise he'll come to love you." Because of those words, Quinn had married him without a second thought. But three years had passed, and Chase wouldn't even touch her. "If it weren't for you, Rosalie never would have left," he had spat at her. "If it weren't for you, she and I might have had a chance. You ruined my life!" In his mind, Rosalie was a saint, too pure and good to ever be with a man her own sister loved. Quinn's affection, therefore, was a catastrophic burden. And Quinn's heart, once so full of hope, had slowly grown cold and died under the constant barrage of his cruelty. A message from Rosalie appeared on her screen. "If you're busy, don't worry about the comforters. Don't let something so small get in the way of your competition. It's okay if I can't sleep." Then, another message popped up. "How are things with you and Chase?" Quinn blinked, her thick lashes fluttering. The old Quinn would have been frantic with guilt at the thought of Rosalie being unable to sleep. She would have dropped everything, heartbroken. But now, she just felt the bitter sting of irony. The old Quinn would have forgiven Rosalie instantly and tried even harder to please her, always feeling indebted to her and her family. But something inside her had snapped. With a force that felt like it took all the strength she had left, she typed out her reply, one word at a time. "I want to divorce Chase." The message had barely been sent when her phone began to ring. It was Rosalie. Chapter 2 She Wants a Divorce The second Quinn answered, Rosalie's voice, sharp with alarm, filled her ear. "Quinn, what on earth are you talking about? A divorce? Don't you dare even think it! I forbid it!" Quinn's own voice was eerily calm as she replied, "I can't live like this anymore, Rosalie. He doesn't love me..." Rosalie sighed, a sound of weary patience, "Quinn, how can you think like that? Chase is gentle, considerate, and successful. Marrying him was the best thing that ever happened to you. If he doesn't love you, have you ever stopped to think that maybe... it's you? Maybe you're just not trying hard enough?" It was always the same. Everyone said the same things. Quinn finally had a name for it now: gaslighting. She didn't argue. She didn't want to say anything at all. She was just so tired. Under the guise of helping her, Rosalie had stripped her of everything: her family, her friends, and even her chance at love. Sensing her silence, Rosalie urged as her voice grew more urgent, "Quinn, don't do something stupid. Even if you don't care about yourself, think about Mom and Dad! They raised you! Are you really going to repay their kindness by giving them a heart attack?" Elaine and her husband cared more about their public image than anything else. They would never allow a divorce. Quinn knew the road ahead would be difficult. "I have to go. I'm busy," Rosalie said, wrapping up the conversation. "Stop thinking such foolish thoughts, and don't you dare mention the word 'divorce' again. Do you understand me?" Rosalie hung up and immediately dialed Chase. At that moment, Chase was with his father, on their way to meet the true patriarch of the Sterling family. Theirs was just a minor branch of the clan, but in the eyes of the public, they were immensely wealthy. Only they knew that compared to the man they were about to see, their fortune was a mere drop in the ocean. All of their business ventures depended on his goodwill. Their branch was the most successful of the offshoots, so every year, Chase had to accompany his father for this meeting to report on their progress. In truth, it was an opportunity to maintain a connection. Just being granted an audience with this man was a status symbol. Chase's phone buzzed. His father, Charles Sterling, who was walking ahead, shot him a furious glare. "Put that on silent! Don't you dare cause any trouble when we see him!" Seeing Rosalie's name on the screen, Chase whispered urgently, "Dad, I have to take this. It's important!" "What could be more important than meeting Mr. Julian Sterling?" Charles hissed, looking like he wanted to kick his son. "Hang up and turn it off! Now!" Chase knew Julian Sterling's reputation. Julian only saw them once a year, and every time, Chase was so overwhelmed by Julian's sheer presence and authority that he could barely speak. With a grimace, he declined the call, quickly typed out a message, and silenced his phone. Meanwhile, on the twenty-eighth floor of the Apex Tower, a man stood before a panoramic window that offered a breathtaking view of all of Lakeshore City. A matte black phone was held loosely in his long, elegant fingers, the dark material making his skin look as smooth and pale as jade. "Julian, did you really buy that yacht?" a curious voice asked from the other end of the line. Julian Sterling hummed in affirmation. "No way! Why would you buy something like that?" the voice exclaimed. It wasn't just any yacht; it was a superyacht, the ultimate symbol of status and power. But Julian had always been understated, never one to follow trends or show off. There were fewer than one hundred and fifty superyachts in the entire world, meaning only a handful of ultra-rich individuals owned one. Most of these owners were anonymous, their identities a mystery even to the media, and they certainly didn't care about Forbes lists. A superyacht cost over three hundred million dollars to build, with daily docking and maintenance fees running into the hundreds of thousands. That wasn't even counting the full-time crew and specialized engineers, an astronomical annual expense. It was a club so exclusive it existed in the stratosphere, far above any conventional mountain of fame and fortune. Julian didn't need a boat to prove who he was. A polite, measured knock sounded at the door. "Talk later," Julian said into the phone and hung up. Soon, Chase came face-to-face with the head of the Sterling family. Julian was a late-in-life child for the old master of the family. Most people called him Mr. Julian Sterling out of respect, even those who were technically his elders. Chase was of the same generation, yet every time he saw him, he felt like he couldn't breathe. It wasn't that Julian was ugly. On the contrary, generations of the powerful family marrying beautiful women had perfected the Sterling gene pool, and Julian's looks were legendary. But the first thing that struck you about him wasn't his face. It was his aura. He wore a tailored shirt, vest, and trousers, a picture of refined civility that somehow emanated immense power. His sleeves were casually rolled, held in place by black leather garters that constricted around his strong forearms, a visually arresting display of restrained strength. His features were sharp and aggressively handsome, his deep-set eyes holding a chilling indifference that made people instinctively fear him. Charles was technically his senior, an uncle by relation, but he wouldn't dare act like one. His voice was laced with deference as he reported on the company's projects. Chase stood silently to the side, unable to get a word in, secretly studying the man who was so powerful it defied description. Men, more than anyone, were drawn to power. He wondered if he would ever be as successful as Julian, the ruler of a business empire. "Chase?" His father's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He quickly straightened, replying, "Yes." "Mr. Julian Sterling is asking you a question." Even Charles, an elder, didn't dare be familiar. He addressed Julian formally as "Mr. Julian Sterling." Chase quickly looked at Julian. Their eyes met. Julian's gaze was dark and profound, like the depths of the ocean, possessing a fatal allure, yet radiating an endless sense of danger. Chase didn't even have the courage to hold his gaze for more than a second. "Mr. Julian Sterling," he said respectfully. Julian asked a few questions about a project. Thankfully, Chase had prepared and answered them all. Julian gave a slight nod, commenting, "Good." Chase let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding, only then noticing that his shirt was soaked with sweat and sticking to his back. Julian looked at him and said, his tone casual, "I heard from family that you're married." "Yes," Chase said quickly. "For three years." Julian's long fingers picked up a gold-embossed invitation from his desk and slid it across. "I'm hosting a party on my yacht this weekend. You should bring your wife." Both Charles and Chase were stunned into silence. An invitation from Julian was a golden ticket. This was an exclusive circle that few could ever hope to enter. And to have it personally extended by the man himself was an incredible honor. They practically bowed their way out of his office, thanking him profusely. Charles wiped the sweat from his forehead, knowing that their projects for the next year were secure. Chase let out a long sigh of relief and immediately stepped aside to call Rosalie back. Rosalie first went through her usual routine of feigned concern for him before getting to the point. "How are things with you and Quinn? I just called her, and she said something about... wanting a divorce?" "What?" Chase barked and froze, and then anger surged through him. "She said she wants a divorce?" Chapter 3 I Regret It "Don't get ahead of yourself," Rosalie said, her voice a soothing balm. "What happened? Did you two have a fight?" "No," Chase said, yanking at his tie in frustration. "Rosalie, you know the person I love is..." "Chase," Rosalie cut him off smoothly. "You know I've always admired men who are responsible. Since you two are married, you have a duty to your marriage." "I know, but..." "Quinn is my sister," Rosalie continued. "If you're not her husband, then we can't have any kind of relationship. Do you understand?" Chase understood. But he couldn't accept it. "Rosalie, if it weren't for her, you and I would be together! We're the ones who should be together!" "But you're married to her, aren't you?" Rosalie sighed softly. "Chase, if you still care about my feelings at all, you will love her properly and spend the rest of your life with her. Promise me, will you?" Rosalie was always so gentle and so understanding. Faced with this version of her, Chase was filled with a mixture of adoration and heartache, which only fueled his hatred for Quinn. Rosalie is always thinking of Quinn. But Quinn is selfish, vicious, and pathetic! Not only that, but she lies, trying to twist the past and claim Rosalie is the one behind all those terrible things she has done. As if! Rosalie is pure, innocent, and kind. She will never do something like that. Honestly, he wanted a divorce, too. But Rosalie was against it. And now Julian knew he was married and had invited both him and his wife to a party. Causing a scene with Quinn right now would be a disaster. Suppressing his frustration, Chase softened his voice and replied, "Rosalie, you know I've always listened to you. Even when you told me to marry her..." Rosalie interrupted him again, "I simply laid out the pros and cons. The decision to marry her was yours." "But I did it for you..." "Chase, I have to run. We'll talk later. You and Quinn need to work things out. Promise me." Chase hung up the phone and stormed toward home. How dare Quinn mention divorce! She is the one who has shamelessly chased after me, begging me to marry her. And now she has the audacity to ask for a divorce? She is the one initiating it? No way! Quinn was at the window, sketching a design. The house was warm, heated to a comfortable seventy-eight degrees Fahrenheit, and she wore a simple, long cotton dress that brushed her ankles. Her hair was loose down her back, with a single strand falling from behind her ear to trace her cheek. The afternoon sun spilled through the windowpanes, bathing her in a soft, ethereal light, as if afraid to disturb the quiet moment of focused tranquility. For a split second, watching the woman so absorbed in her work, Chase was mesmerized. If he was being honest, Quinn's features, her proportions, and her unique beauty were far superior to Rosalie's. She had a striking, vibrant look, with bright eyes and a perfect smile. She could outshine any celebrity without a drop of makeup. Chase remembered a time, before Rosalie was found, when Quinn was the girl he had secretly adored most. But after Rosalie came home, Quinn, driven by jealousy, had done one cruel and petty thing after another. She had tried to deny it, to claim she wasn't responsible. Who would believe that? His affection for her had slowly withered and died. But even now, he couldn't deny that Quinn was beautiful. What good was beauty, though? His love wasn't so shallow. If his devotion to Rosalie wasn't so absolute, he might have succumbed to the temptation. Three years without touching her was a testament to his loyalty to Rosalie. Sometimes, he even impressed himself. He snapped back to the present, anger flaring as he strode toward her. "Quinn!" She turned at the sound of his voice. The sunlight danced in her hair, enveloping her in a soft halo. Her features seemed to be veiled in a soft mist, making her look impossibly, breathtakingly beautiful. Quinn gathered her sketches from the table, asking, "What is it?" She wasn't satisfied with her work anyway; her mind was elsewhere. She was planning to go out to buy fabric and thread to make the comforters for Rosalie. She still couldn't bring herself to ignore her sister's requests. After all, Rosalie's parents had raised her. "Did you call Rosalie? Did you tell her we're getting a divorce?" Chase yelled as he leaned over the table, his voice a low accusation. Quinn met his gaze, retorting, "You don't love me. What's the point of this marriage?" Chase's hand shot out, grabbing her chin. His voice was ice. "I don't love you. You're just figuring that out now? You should have never married me in the first place!" "You're right," she said quietly. "I regret it." Staring at her exquisite face, at the sweep of her long lashes, Chase felt a surge of irritation. "You regret it? I'm the one who should have regrets!" He let her go and paced the room, ripping his tie off and throwing it aside. "If it wasn't for you, I might have been with Rosalie by now!" he barked. Quinn turned her gaze to the window. "She would have never been with you," she said softly. "That's because of you! You're the reason she drew a line between us!" "No," Quinn argued and shook her head. "She doesn't love you." "What did you say?" Chase yelled and slammed his fist on the table. "Don't you dare say that!" Quinn looked up at him, the words on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed them. Three years of this marriage had taught her a lot. She was no longer the naive, clueless girl she used to be. Rosalie would never marry Chase. He was beneath her. The Lane family wasn't a dynasty, but Elaine and her husband were university professors who moved in respectable circles. After Rosalie was found, Quinn had a small group of childhood friends, Chase among them. One by one, they had all drifted away from Quinn, drawn to the "lost and found" sister. At the time, Quinn had felt hurt, but she never complained. She had been conditioned to believe that Rosalie deserved all the good things in the world after her ordeal. It was only now, years too late, that she understood it had all been a calculated game by Rosalie. She had never been jealous of Rosalie for being the biological daughter. It was Rosalie who, from the moment she returned, had looked at Quinn like an enemy. Sometimes Quinn even wondered if her marriage to Chase was also part of Rosalie's plan. But she couldn't figure out why. Rosalie didn't want Chase, but she could have easily kept him dangling as a backup, completely devoted to her. Rosalie was more than capable of that; she had stolen all of Quinn's friends in a single year. There was no need to make him marry her sister, cutting off all possibility of a future romance. Unless Rosalie had another motive. Quinn knew her sister well enough now to understand that Rosalie never did anything without a purpose. So, by asking for a divorce, had she inadvertently threatened one of Rosalie's interests? What could it be?
