Chapter 1 Her Husband Took His First Love To A Hotel

Hannah Scott bitterly learned that her husband, Vincent Jones, hooked up with his first love-the two of them checked into a hotel together. She watched it all unfold, unable to look away. His first love bore an uncanny resemblance to her.

From about ten meters away, Hannah pulled out her phone and called Vincent. "Didn't your grandmother suggest we take the health examination since we're trying for a baby? Are you free right now?"

"I'm busy with a business dinner. Not tonight-maybe next time," Vincent answered.

"Alright," Hannah replied, keeping her voice even before she hung up. Unbelievable. There he was, about to entertain another woman in a hotel room, and he still had the nerve to mention "next time."

Hannah trailed behind them and stopped at their hotel room door. Laughter and flirtatious voices spilled out once they were inside. For a moment, she considered barging in and confronting them on the spot. But she held back. Her fury faded quickly, replaced by a deep and lasting disappointment. That was when she knew it was time to let go.

Hannah wasted no time contacting a lawyer to draft a divorce agreement. Barely after she signed her name, Danica Jones, Vincent's mother, asked to meet.

The two women met at a small café and settled in across from each other.

"You probably haven't heard, but Brinley is back," Danica said condescendingly.

Brinley Gilbert. She was Vincent's first love, and Danica had always adored her.

Danica leaned in, her tone casual, almost delighted. "Name your price. How much does it take for you to walk away from Vincent?"

Danica had never approved of Hannah, largely due to her unremarkable background. She sought to pair her son with a wealthy socialite who could help expand the Jones Group.

Hannah kept her voice steady. "Transfer every property under your name to me, and I'll give your beloved son his freedom."

Danica had a special love for luxury real estate. She owned several high-end properties with a total worth exceeding billions.

"You're serious?" Danica looked genuinely surprised by how quickly Hannah agreed. For five whole years, Hannah had lived as Vincent's secret wife, giving up her own career, never seeking attention, and taking on the role of the perfect housewife behind closed doors. Most people assumed she was desperately in love with Vincent.

"Yeah. I've had enough. I'm finished here. I just want out," Hannah remarked. As Brinley's face flashed through her thoughts, a deep coldness settled over her. She realized Vincent had never loved her. He married her only because she looked like his first love.

It all made sense now. No wonder he would never say "I love you" no matter how many times she asked. Though her chest tightened, she refused to shed a single tear. He was just a man, nothing special. Like garbage-meant to be tossed aside.

Danica's lips curled into a satisfied smile. In her eyes, Hannah was never good enough for her son-her background too ordinary and her manners frivolous. "You've finally become somewhat sensible. But there's one more condition. You can't breathe a word about this secret marriage, and Vincent must never find out about our deal."

"Agreed." Hannah's smile turned cold. "Once the divorce goes through, all ten of your properties are mine."

"Five properties. We're still family now. You could at least offer me that," Danica suggested.

"Absolutely not," Hannah said as she rose from her seat. "Unless you'd rather I stay on as Vincent's wife-and we both know that role is worth far more than ten properties."

Danica's face tightened. Her answer came through gritted teeth. "Fine."

After leaving the café, Hannah stopped in front of a fountain and lingered for several minutes, her mind in turmoil. Then, finally, she made up her mind. She slid her wedding ring off her finger, tossed it into the fountain, and walked away without glancing back.

For the first time, she stepped into a private club, ordered a round of drinks, and hired a few male escorts to keep her company-every one of them charming, well-built, and perfectly put together. She could touch whoever caught her eye. Any one of these smooth-talking and good-looking escorts was far better than the cold, distant husband she was leaving behind.

Her presence didn't go unnoticed. Bobby Howard, a longtime friend of Vincent's, caught sight of her across the crowded club. He remembered her always trailing after Vincent, never once claiming even the title of girlfriend.

Watching her laughing and flirting with those dashing male escorts, Bobby pulled out his phone and called Vincent.

"You need anything?" Vincent's tone was as cold as ever.

"You and your little tagalong have a fight?"

Vincent didn't respond.

"I just saw her at the club," Bobby added. "She went into a private room with a handful of male escorts."

Vincent's tone was clipped. "Text me the address. And the room number."