Game Over, Mr. CEO: Your Wife Is Done

Like many women who refuse to give up until they hit a dead end, Winter Scott once tried to make a man like Chris Xander fall in love with her.

But after three years of marriage, they were nothing more than strangers.

When she was brutally attacked and her life was hanging by a thread, Chris wasn’t with her. He was by the side of his former love.

Winter forced herself to let go. Yet the powerful man she thought she had left behind refused to disappear from her life.

Step by step, he closed in on her, cutting off any chance of a new romance in her life and blocking every path of retreat.

“You’re the one who insisted on marrying me back then,” he said coldly. “As long as I don’t agree to a divorce, you’ll never be free of me.”

Winter looked at him coldly. “Sorry, Mr. Xander. Game over. This marriage ends when I say it ends.”

When Winter Scott stepped out of the police station, it was already late at night.

Snow was falling heavily outside.

People on the street kept glancing at Winter, noticing the bruises on her face, her messy hair, and the way she limped.

Winter ignored their stares and whispers completely.

She dragged her heavy steps forward, head lowered, her expression numb as she stared at the broken phone in her hand. The screen was shattered beyond repair.

Her fingers, smeared with blood, trembled as they tapped the keypad. She slowly keyed in the number.

“Beep…”

The phone rang repeatedly, but there was no answer. It was no different from the emergency calls she had desperately made while she was being beaten. A snowflake caught on her eyelash, and when she blinked, the icy water melted into her eye.

Winter let out a quiet, self-deprecating scoff at how pathetic she looked. Just as her hand began to drop in defeat, the call connected at the very last second.

“What is it?”

A low, indifferent voice came through the phone.

Her grip tightened. A trace of surprise crossed Winter’s face. “Chris…”

“Mr. Xander, Ms. Jasper is looking for you.”

His assistant spoke before she could say another word.

Then he said calmly, “I’ll hang up first.”

The line went dead.

On the deserted street corner under the glow of a streetlight, snowflakes drifted onto Winter’s hair as her thin frame shook slightly.

Suddenly, a warm coat was draped over her shoulders.

Winter was startled and looked up to see Sam Quinn, the editor-in-chief, standing there.

His heavy gaze swept over her from head to toe, anger burning in his eyes.

“Who did this to you?”

A puff of white breath escaped Winter’s lips as she shook her head.

“When they were beating me, I pulled out some of their hair. There’s skin under my nails too. Once the DNA is extracted, the police will catch them soon.”

Sam was stunned that she could remain so calm and take such precautions after being