Chapter 1After scrubbing myself down THREE times with medical-grade disinfectant, I finally worked up the nerve to ask my husband for sex.
"Well, did you disinfect?"
"Yeah. Three times."
"We literally just did this. Are you really that desperate?"
"That was the 25th of last month. It's December now."
"Christmas fuck, huh? Fine. Climb on top yourself. Remember our rules—only your hips. Don't you dare touch me anywhere else."
I climbed on top of him, balancing carefully, making sure not a single part of my body brushes against his precious skin.
Then... I lined myself up and slowly sank down onto his cock.
I started moving, grinding, desperately trying to hit that spot that'll actually make me come.
Oh, and because Edward hates being touched, he just lies there like a starfish every time we have sex.
Deep, shallow, deep-shallow-shallow, deep-three-shallows... Faster, God, FASTER, I'm almost there, just a little more—
"Enough. I'm finished." Edward shoved me off.
"Right, okay... then." I slowly caught my breath, coming down from the intensity. Guess my vibrator's getting called back into action.
To accommodate his neat-freak OCD, we've kept this robotic fucking for three years now.
No touch. No hug. No kiss.
But as I lifted my hand off the bed to get up, I saw it—a long, golden hair.
Mine is brown.
I turned and stared at Edward. There, beneath the thick hair on his abdomen, was a small, fresh hickey.
So his OCD only kicks in for certain people, huh?
The next day was my 30th birthday.
Sitting in his passenger seat, I found an entire box of used condoms and a bottle of sickeningly sweet perfume.
When I confronted him, he just kept his hands on the wheel, his face completely blank.
"I lent the car to Thomas the other day."
I didn't say a word. Instead, I called Peter, his assistant.
That's when I found out the company had just hired a new blonde receptionist.
On the other end of the line, Peter's voice dropped to barely a whisper.
"Mrs. Sterling... I saw Mr. Sterling kiss her feet. And... and kneel between her legs... Word is she might be pregnant..."
"You've saved my sister. I couldn't just stand by and watch you get fooled like this."
I hung up and calmly drafted divorce papers.
Edward Sterling, we're fucking DONE.
The next morning, I went straight to the top floor of Sterling Group.
Peter turned white as a sheet when he saw me.
I glanced toward Edward's office. Papers were scattered all over the floor.
Edward—the same man who'd literally burn his clothes if anyone so much as grazed them—was currently pinning a girl to the ground, his tongue deep in her mouth.
Moans echoed out. The girl inside lifted her gaze to meet mine. No fear. No shame.
I recognized her. Two months ago, she was a new intern.
She'd knocked my bag off my arm and bowed over and over, apologizing like her life depended on it.
"Sorry to bother you, Peter."
I gave him a quick nod and shoved the door open.
BANG.
The door slammed against the doorstop with a deafening crash.
They jolted apart. A string of saliva stretched between their mouths.
So he's not grossed out anymore?
I thought being caught red-handed would at least make Edward panic. Maybe stumble over an excuse. Maybe show a flicker of shame.
But no. NOTHING.
He just frowned at me, confused.
"I told you to wear sterile scrubs before entering my office."
Everything took a backseat to keeping his environment spotless.
I'd followed that rule religiously.
Turns out it was just his way of controlling me.
Because right now, this young girl's sweat was mixing with his, and he couldn't care less.
Emily straightened her clothes, her face flushed.
"Mrs. Sterling, please don't misunderstand. I was just delivering documents and tripped. Mr. Sterling was helping me up."
She spoke to me, but her eyes stayed glued to Edward, watching for his reaction.
This girl—seven years younger than me. Young. Vibrant. And playing with fire.
I ignored her and slapped the divorce papers across Edward's face.
The freshly printed sheets still smelled faintly of ink.
Edward's frown deepened. He must hate that smell.
After all, everything in our house had to be run through disinfectant before it could even exist near him.
Edward glanced at the papers on the floor and let out a sigh.
"Vivian, I already told you—that stuff in the car was Thomas's. Can you stop being so dramatic?"
Thomas Wright was his cousin. One of his few friends.
But Edward forgot one thing when he lied: Thomas had been abroad for three months.
And Edward never lent out his car. Too dirty.
His germophobia wasn't just a quirk—it was a full-blown psychological disorder.
But here's the thing—I've got standards for relationships.
Cheating? Yeah. That's fucking filthy to me.
"Sign it. Divorce. It's the best outcome for both of us."
I didn't budge. He let out a cold laugh.
"Why bother? You know my parents and my grandfather will never agree to this."
"Since we got married, I haven't looked at another woman. This is my first affair."
"Just do what a good Mrs. Sterling should do—turn a blind eye. Isn't that easier?"
Oh, so I'm supposed to be grateful he only fucked one other woman?
He turned to Emily, and his voice instantly softened.
"Go rest. Don't worry. I'll handle this."
But Emily stepped forward instead, her messy hair falling to reveal a neck covered in hickeys.
"Mrs. Sterling, please don't be angry with Mr. Sterling. It's all my fault."
She's a homewrecking bitch—of course it's her fault. What, does she expect me to say "it's okay"?!
SMACK.
Before she could finish, I slapped her hard across the face.
"A little slut like you doesn't get to open her mouth in front of me."
Emily froze, clutching her cheek as tears instantly filled her eyes.
Both Edward and Peter, standing outside the door, went completely still.
They were used to seeing me stay calm and composed, even with the most violent patients.
A second later, Emily's legs gave out, and she collapsed into Edward's arms.
She sobbed dramatically, smearing foundation and lipstick all over his crisp white shirt.
Edward looked uncomfortable, but he still held her, patting her back.
His eyes—full of concern. Full of affection.
But...because Edward thought makeup was dirty, I'd gone barefaced for six years. Even at our wedding.
"Are you out of your fucking mind? Do you even realize what you're doing?"
I met his furious glare and smiled—wide, unhinged.
"Just doing what a good Mrs. Sterling should do."
"The Sterlings will never accept a homewrecker."
Chapter 2
Edward didn't even glance at the divorce papers before having Peter feed them into the shredder.
If he won't divorce me, then I'll force his hand.
I'm a psychologist. Nobody knows better than me how to make him break.
I kicked all the shoes in the house into a chaotic mess, dumped a bag of live mudfish into the bathtub, and deliberately spilled soup all over the pristine white carpet.
The entire villa instantly reeked of fish guts and greasy filth.
In the past, Edward would've replaced everything in the house and then scrubbed himself raw in disinfectant for THREE straight hours.
I sat in the trashed living room with a cold smile, waiting for him to come home and finally shove those divorce papers in my face.
But by midnight, the front door still hadn't opened.
My phone lit up. Emily sent me a photo—from Edward's phone.
Edward was sitting on a grimy plastic stool next to a food truck, sharing a basket of buffalo wings with Emily.
[He said for me, he's willing to try.]
My stomach turned inside out.
Years ago, just because I came home smelling like food truck grease, he threw up all night long.
So I ate vegetarian with him for six fucking years.
I ate so much bland vegetables I wanted to puke at the sight of greens.
But apparently, for Emily, he could sit in a filthy night market surrounded by trash and oil stains.
I sat there all night until my tears ran dry.
Then I called the company's HR department.
"As a board member, I'm ordering you to fire Emily Watson. Now."
There was a long pause on the other end before he finally spoke, hesitant.
"Mr. Sterling specifically instructed us that any personnel changes involving Miss Watson must go through him first."
My fingers went ice-cold around the phone.
A second later, Edward's call came through.
"Vivian, how long are you going to keep this up?"
"What, as a shareholder, I can't fire a employee?"
"Not her. Anyone but her."
"Vivian, you need to reflect on yourself."
*He's* the one cheating, and yet I'm the one who needs to "reflect"?
But I've never been good at following orders.
The next morning, I plastered the headquarters building with photos of Edward and Emily.
Making out in his car. Tangled up in his office. Cozying up at that food truck.
By the time Edward arrived at the office, it was too late to stop it.
"I knew that blonde girl and Mr. Sterling had something going on. I've seen them leave together multiple times."
"Just another gold digger. Can't these girls take the honest route anymore?"
"And here I thought Mr. Sterling was a decent guy. Isn't he supposed to be a germaphobe? Guess he's not so picky after all."
Edward ripped the photos off the wall, his eyes burning with fury as he turned to me.
"Vivian, you're a fucking lunatic right now."
Oh, so he does know this is shameful.
If he knows it's wrong, then why the hell did he do it?
Everyone's eyes bore into Emily. She covered her face and hid behind Edward.
"Edward... I can't face anyone anymore. Maybe we should just... end this."
I thought Edward would clear things up. Deny it.
But he didn't.
Instead, in front of everyone, he took off his suit jacket and draped it over Emily's shoulders.
His gaze swept across the room, cold and dangerous.
"Seen enough?"
"Starting today, Emily Watson is promoted to Executive Assistant. Triple her salary."
"She's MINE. Anyone who runs their mouth about her can pack their shit and get out."
No one dared to speak. They were employees. They needed their paychecks. They couldn't afford to cross the CEO.
I lost.
Just like Edward said—I'd become nothing more than a raging, powerless lunatic.
As I walked out of the building, Emily—who'd been crying and playing the victim this whole time—finally leaned in and whispered in my ear.
"Thank you, Mrs. Strling. If not for that, I’d still be stuck as Edward’s dirty secret~"
I returned to the most prestigious hospital in the city, completely defeated.
The psychology clinic inside was the only place that still felt like mine.
"Dr. Carter, um..."
My assistant called out to me. The nurses nearby were whispering to each other.
I'd braced myself, but when I opened the door, the scene still knocked the wind out of me.
The couch was slashed open. The bookshelf had been knocked over. Glass shards and files were scattered everywhere.
Edward had once bought this entire hospital just so I could practice here.
Now, because I refused to submit, he’d smashed it himself.
I slowly crouched down and started picking up the scattered patient files.
A familiar photo slipped out from the bottom of one of the folders.
In the photo, Edward's eyes were vacant and terrified, his lips pressed into a tight, trembling line.
Back then, his OCD was so severe that if anyone came within two or three meters of him, he'd scream and break down.
Even his parents were ready to give up on him and send him abroad.
I treated him for two years. Helped him recover basic social function.
Turned him into someone capable enough to become the family heir.
The Sterlings immediately arranged our marriage.
But why? Why should I be sacrificed to stabilize their family?!
Chapter 3
The hospital director called me into his office.
"Look, I know your depression isn't affecting your work anymore, but we can't go head-to-head with Mr. Sterling. You need to take a leave of absence for a while."
I understood his position. I didn't argue. I picked up my new prescription and went home.
When I opened the door, I saw women's shoes—not mine—lined up neatly in the shoe cabinet.
I let out a bitter laugh.
Per Edward's rules, this villa was only ever supposed to be accessed by me and the housekeeper who came by on schedule. No one else.
Not even our child.
The year we got married, I got pregnant by accident.
But Edward refused to let me keep it.
"I can't stand the thought of something covered in amniotic fluid and blood existing in my house."
"And I've never liked kids. You know that."
I watched him hyperventilate, his whole body trembling.
I tried to calm him down, but in the struggle, I fell down the stairs.
The baby's heartbeat stopped. I hemorrhaged on the operating table and nearly died.
After that, every month after we had sex, he'd watch me swallow the morning-after pill with his own eyes.
Emily heard the door open and walked over. She smiled smugly as she rubbed her flat stomach.
"Mrs.Sterling, I'm pregnant. You already knew that, right?"
"I don't want my child to be born a bastard."
She leaned in close, her tone light and cheerful.
"So, Vivian, we're actually on the same side here."
"I want to move up. You want a divorce. We both get what we want."
I let out a cold snort.
"You've got it twisted. Just because I want a divorce doesn't mean I'm letting you take my place."
"A homewrecker is always a homewrecker."
Maybe my words hit a nerve.
Her smile vanished instantly, replaced by rage.
"Who the hell do you think you are? You can't keep your own man, so now you're taking it out on me?"
"You don't actually think Edward's staying because he loves you, do you? He's just not ready yet!"
"Men only want kids with the women they actually love."
"You got pregnant, and he didn't want it."
She laughed—wild, unhinged. I stood there, frozen.
The Sterlings had kept that incident buried.
Because it was my eternal wound. And they didn't want their heir tied to that kind of scandal.
But Edward had told her. Just like that.
While I stood there in shock, the pill bottle slipped out of my pocket.
Emily picked it up and read the label. Her smirk grew even more vicious.
"What's this? Viagra? You still haven't given up on him?"
"Pathetic. What kind of woman needs sex pills to keep her man?"
I stared at her, hatred boiling inside me, completely out of control.
A second later, I snapped. I twisted the cap off and tried to force the pills down her throat.
"These are abortion pills. Made just for you!"
"You want to have this baby? Let's see if you even can."
Her face went white. She thrashed, trying to break free.
Suddenly, I heard the front door open. She wrenched herself out of my grip.
"Edward! She—she made me swallow something. I don't know what it was."
"Our baby... my stomach hurts so bad."
Edward shoved me to the ground. "What the fuck did you do to her?"
Emily sobbed hysterically. But I knew the truth—she hadn't swallowed a single pill.
Edward glanced at the pills scattered on the floor. His face went pale.
After six years of marriage, he knew exactly what those were.
Fluoxetine. Antidepressants. Contraindicated in pregnancy.
He scooped her up and rushed into the bathroom, helping her gag and throw up.
Vomit splattered all over the pristine sink.
This man—who used to frown if a single strand of my hair fell on the floor—was now using his bare hands to wipe the filth from her mouth.
No disgust. No hesitation.
Once he confirmed she was fine, he came back out. His eyes looked like they wanted to tear me apart.
"Vivian… how could you be this evil? You actually tried to kill my child!"
Then what am I supposed to do? Accept her child? Then who was supposed to accept mine?
I stared blankly at the pills on the floor.
How ironic. A psychologist with depression.
But I knew exactly what I was doing. I wasn't out of control. I was just filled with hate.
