SYDNEY'S POV

I threw that damn agreement into the shredder," he spat. "I've already canceled an important meeting for you; I can't waste any more time."

He hadn't changed one bit. He was still that angry, impatient man I'd left behind who thought the world revolved around him. Or rather, "my world." If he didn't want his time wasted, why the hell had he followed me back there?

Whether he shredded the documents, burned them to ashes with a lighter in his study, or kept them somewhere—it was none of my business.

I stepped back from the door and stared angrily at his face.

"My intention to divorce you is serious and solemn. If you don't accept a divorce by agreement, then I will have to file a lawsuit. That will only waste more of your 'precious' time, Mr. Mark!" I made that much clear.

At one point, my mind slipped back to thinking about the man who was probably still hiding somewhere in the house. I stood in front of the door, blocking Mark from sneaking a peek inside and seeing something he shouldn't. This case could escalate from an ex-couple bickering over divorce documents into something far more dangerous.

Mark moved even closer to the door. But I couldn't back up an inch—it was as far as I could go to protect the entrance. I silently reveled in the fact that he was affected by my refusal to step aside.

Mark gritted his teeth and said, "I'll say it one last time: whether we divorce or not is not up to you!"

He even had the nerve to tell me I had no say in the matter. That I had no right to break off the alliance? Thanks to Mark, the fear I'd felt earlier about the man in the house turned into annoyance.

How dare he presume to dictate my choices, denying me control over my own life? I had tolerated his domineering attitude for far too long, but now I had reached my limit.

I realized there was no reasoning with him. In fact, I didn't have the time to argue. Mark would always be that stubborn.

I swallowed hard and bit back the words I wanted to hurl at him.

Instead, I sighed and asked, "You really want to talk about this?"

"Yes, and you're coming with me now!" he demanded. His tone brooked no argument.

I stood there for a moment, exhausted, rubbing my temples tiredly before reluctantly agreeing, "Fine, if you're so interested in wasting your time talking, why not."

After glancing quickly back inside the house and seeing no sign of the man, I thought stepping out now would probably be in our best interest. He probably needed to leave as well.

I walked out the front door and shut it behind me.

"After you," I said to Mark.

He turned to me with a frown and stepped off the porch while I followed behind him.

I walked slowly behind Mark, who strode angrily ahead. My eyes caught a metal pole lying nearby in the garden. It was a simple pole, but at that moment, it was the perfect tool.

Glancing back at Mark, still a few steps ahead, I took a deep breath and stepped away from the path to pick up the pole from the ground.

The object was heavier than I had imagined, but that was less of a problem. The real problem was right in front of me.

I walked behind Mark, holding the pole tightly in my hands. I positioned myself right behind him and waited for the perfect moment to strike. When he stopped to look at something on his phone, I saw my chance. I swung the pole with all my strength.

I hit him hard on the back of the head.

I hadn't expected him to lose consciousness so quickly. Despite all his bravado, he crumpled to the ground, knocked out by just one blow. There he was—all that aggression sprawled on the floor.

After dropping the pole, I went to meet his assistant waiting outside the gate.

"Come and take your boss out of my premises," I said.

The assistant sat in the driver's seat.

At first, he seemed confused, but when he looked behind me and saw Mark lying on the ground, he sprang out of the car.

"Mr. Torres! Mr. Torres!" he exclaimed, rushing to Mark's side and checking for any sign of consciousness.

Mr. Torres was out cold, unfortunately.

Even when the assistant tried to lift him, Mark was too heavy. But eventually, he managed to carry him over his shoulders and away.

Mark's hands dangled uselessly over the assistant's shoulders. With effort, the assistant shoved Mark's body into the backseat of the car.

Then he returned to me after closing the door.

"Mrs. Torr—"

I held out my hand to silence him.

"A new lady will soon inherit that title. Please call me Miss Turner. Also, tell your boss I'll resend him a divorce agreement. Please have him sign it as soon as possible so we don't waste each other's time."

The assistant nodded with an expression that clearly said, "I don't want to get involved." He turned away with a curt bow.

"Have a good day," I called into the wind as he settled into the car with his boss and started the engine.

I waited until the car sped off into the distance before finally turning away.

When I saw my front door again and remembered who still waited inside, the tension and fear I'd lost earlier returned immediately.

At first, I thought, Should I just take this opportunity to run away?

But something held me back—I didn't know what. I kept walking toward the door.

I pushed it open after a deep breath and stepped inside, but I didn't go far. I searched the house with my eyes for any sign of him. He was nowhere. I walked deeper into the house and looked around more thoroughly.

He was really gone.

I could hardly explain the relief that washed over me, along with the immediate anger that someone had actually broken into my house despite its tight, expensive security.

Angrily, I marched to the landline and dialed the security company.

"I need to upgrade the security system at my villa," I snapped as soon as they answered, not bothering to sound friendly. "Villa number 27, in the hills. Your system failed me tonight, and I won't tolerate it anymore. My life was in danger moments ago."

The operator said something, but I was too annoyed to listen patiently.

"We apologize for the inconvenience, ma'am," the operator said. "We'll send a team to upgrade your security as soon as possible."

I gave my villa number again. "I expect your team to be here first thing in the morning," I added and hung up with a frustrated sigh.

The events of the evening had rattled me in just a matter of minutes. Just when I thought I could finally rest, my phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID and sighed. It was my dad. I answered reluctantly.

"You must come to my birthday party this weekend with Mark!" Dad's voice roared through the phone. Before I could respond, he hung up.

I rolled my eyes in speechless frustration. Dad had always been adamant that I be with Mark, despite all my repeated attempts to show him how much I hated it.

I pulled out my phone, opened the call log, and found my dad's number. With a firm press, I brought up the options menu and selected "Block Number." A confirmation popped up, and I tapped "Confirm." The number disappeared, banished from my contacts.

I dropped the phone on the couch, sank to the floor, my back against the soft cushions, and rested my head wearily on the arm of the couch.

Despite how angry and upset I was, I knew I still had to go back for a visit this weekend. It was Dad's birthday, and it wouldn't be the best moment to announce my divorce from Mark. They needed to know I was really serious about ending it all.