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Qiara sat on the edge of the guest room bed that had been her living space in the De Santos Mansion. Her eyes were swollen, her face disheveled, and her breathing uneven. The suitcase lay open, clothes scattered everywhere. Her hands wouldn’t stop trembling as she stuffed the clothes inside without direction.

The door was knocked softly.

Knock knock…

“Come in!” Qiara’s voice was hoarse and irritated.

Joe opened the door with a flat expression. There was no polite smile, no respectful gaze like usual. He simply entered while carrying a brown folder.

“Here,” Joe said, placing the folder directly on Qiara’s lap. “The divorce papers are ready. Master...