Part 3Five Years of Married Slavery Finally Ends

Gavin stood there, radiating absolute confidence.

He looked as though he expected me to drop to my knees and beg for his mercy at any second.

I opened my mouth, ready to tell him he was out of his mind.

But the words died on my tongue.

Looking at his smug, self-satisfied expression, I suddenly smiled.

"You're right," I said, nodding cheerfully as I met his gaze. "I tracked you down."

Gavin blinked, clearly not expecting me to admit it so easily.

Beside him, Isla's eyes flashed with a triumphant gleam she couldn't quite hide.

She gently tugged at Gavin’s sleeve, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.

"Gavin, see? I told you she still cares about you..."

She turned to me, her brow furrowing into a look of deep, self-sacrificing sorrow.

"Naomi, it's all my fault. I shouldn't have let myself get caught between you two. If I'm the reason you're fighting, I'll just leave..."

She said she would leave, but her feet remained glued to the floor.

In fact, she pressed herself even closer to Gavin's chest.

The wealthy women browsing the boutique stopped what they were doing, their eyes darting between the three of us.

I crossed my arms, watching Isla's little performance like I was watching a cheap comedy.

"You're right, you shouldn't have gotten between us," I chuckled, my voice quiet but clear enough for everyone nearby to hear.

"Do you actually feel proud of being a mistress? Coming out in public and shouting about it, are you that desperate for everyone to know you're a homewrecker?"

"Is the barrier to entry for your profession really this low now? No license required, just a thick face?"

Isla’s face turned white.

Her triumphant smirk froze, and the tears she was trying to force out dried up instantly.

The whispers around us grew louder.

"So she really is a homewrecker..."

"She looks decent enough, but she's doing that?"

"Girls these days..."

The critical glares pricked Isla like needles.

Panicked and humiliated, she looked up at Gavin, her eyes pooling with real tears this time.

"Gavin... I didn't..."

Gavin's face turned livid.

He pulled Isla behind him, turning a furious glare on me.

"Naomi! Have you lost your mind?"

He gritted his teeth, a vein throbbing at his temple.

"Who gave you the right to humiliate Isla? You're resorting to cheap, trashy insults just to force me back to you? How pathetic can you be?"

I rolled my eyes.

Honestly, how pathetic could he be?

"Who has the time to play games with you?"

I pulled my phone out of my bag and tapped on the calendar, thrusting the screen directly in front of his face.

"I didn't come here to watch you two put on a circus. It's hurting my eyes."

My smile faded, replaced by a cold, sharp look.

"I'm here to ask you: what time are we meeting at the registry office tomorrow to finalize the paperwork?"

Gavin choked on his words.

His theory of my "reverse psychology" was still fighting for dominance in his brain.

He sneered. "Filing the papers? Do you honestly think threatening me with divorce is going to make me back down? Don't play with fire, Naomi."

This man literally could not comprehend plain English.

I took a step closer. "I don't want the house. I don't want the car. I will sign a clean-break agreement with zero claims. I'll ask you one more time: what time are we signing?"

I raised my voice slightly, my expression dripping with mockery.

"You keep dodging the question, Gavin. Don't tell me... you're the one who can't let go?"

"Or are you just acting tough while trying to drag this out because you don't want to lose me?"

Sometimes, you have to fight fire with fire.

The moment those words left my mouth, Isla was the first to panic.

She clutched Gavin's sleeve, her knuckles turning white as she looked up at him with desperation.

"Gavin... does she really want to divorce? You're going to agree to it, right?"

If Gavin backed out now, his proud image in front of his new mistress would shatter.

If he agreed, I would get exactly what I wanted.

I had backed him into a corner.

Staring into my eyes, which held absolutely no lingering affection, only pure annoyance, the first cracks began to appear in his blind arrogance.

His fragile male ego could not handle being dismissed so casually.

"Fine. Great."

Gavin let out a harsh, angry laugh, the words forced through his teeth.

"You want a divorce? I'll give you one."

He took a deep breath, raising his voice to salvage his pride in front of Isla. "Tomorrow morning, nine o'clock, right outside city hall!"

Finally, some common sense.

The weight lifted from my chest, and a bright smile spread across my face.

"It's a date."

I picked up my luxury purchases from the counter and turned to leave.

At the door, I paused, turning back to throw a wink at Gavin, whose face was now darker than a storm cloud.

"Don't forget the time, Gavin."

"If you don't show up, you're a dog."

I walked out of the boutique without looking back, leaving Gavin standing there looking like he had swallowed a fly, while the onlookers tried to stifle their laughter.

The next morning, I did a full face of makeup, choosing a bold, crimson lipstick.

At exactly nine o'clock, I stood outside the registry office at city hall.

The system had promised me that Gavin would show up.

But by nine-thirty, the entrance was crowded with couples waiting to file their divorces, and I was still standing there entirely alone.

Unbelievable.

I pulled out my phone and sent Gavin a message.

Blocked.

I called his number.

It rang for a long time before he finally answered.

The sound of rustling papers came through the line, accompanied by his insufferable, smug tone.

"What do you want?"

I let out a sharp laugh. "Gavin, we agreed in front of a dozen people yesterday that whoever backed out was a dog. Are you planning a sudden species change?"

Gavin sneered.

"Naomi, this reverse psychology works once. Keep doing it and it just becomes pathetic."

"I didn't show up for your own good. You have no job, and you've been out of the workforce for five years. Without me, you wouldn't even know where your next meal is coming from."

"I'm pitying you, understand? Stop throwing tantrums and let me get back to work."

The line went dead.

I stared at the screen, taking a deep, slow breath.

Fine.

You pity me?

You think I'm helpless?

You clearly haven't seen a rabid dog bite.

I stared at the road, my expression colder than a fishmonger’s.