I Tricked My Husband Into Signing Our Divorce Papers

Just because I accidentally spilled hot water on my husband's secretary, he locked me in a sauna for eight hours. Right before I lost consciousness, my husband finally sent someone to get me out.

He sternly warned me, “This is just a little lesson. If I ever see you hurt Bailee again, next time, it won’t be this easy for you.”

I lay on the stretcher, calmly responding with a simple “Alright.”

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On the day I was discharged, I stood outside the front door and overheard lively chatter inside.

“Rhys, if you dislike Adelaide so much, why not just get a divorce?” Colin Harris asked smugly.

Rhys made a noise of irritation.

“My mom insists that only she can file for divorce. If I do, she’ll hand over the company to someone else. I don’t know what kind of spell Adelaide cast on her.”

His tone was full of impatience.

Bailee Rose chimed in, “Mr. Kennedy, maybe she’s just after your family’s money.”

Her words were met with agreement from those present.

Unlike before, I didn’t stand quietly at the door feeling sad. Instead, I pushed it open and walked in directly.

My entrance turned the buzzing living room silent.

Rhys looked at me and muttered, “What rotten luck!”

“It’s Bailee’s birthday today. Don’t ruin the party.”

Everyone stared at me, waiting to see my reaction.

Every time Rhys taunted me, my emotional outburst was their entertainment.

But this time, they’d be disappointed.

After hearing Rhys’s words, I simply said, “Alright,” and went straight to the bedroom, closing the door.

As I lay on the bed, I received a message from Emory Kennedy.

“Adelaide, are you really going to separate from Rhys?”

I turned my head to look at the framed photo on Rhys’s side of the bed.

In the picture, he was beaming while holding another woman by the shoulder.

Since I moved in, that photo had always been there.

The first time I accidentally knocked it over while cleaning, Rhys had lashed out at me.

“Mrs. Kennedy, you know I stayed with Rhys to repay your kindness. Now that he’s moved past that incident, there’s no reason to continue this.”

Emory sighed with regret.

“It’s a pity. I’ll transfer the money we agreed on to your account shortly.”

I stared blankly at the photo, and after a moment, finally spoke, “Thank you.”

After six years spent for Rhys, it was time I lived a life of my own.

Once the call ended, it took me a while to snap back to reality.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and Rhys walked in, arm-in-arm with Bailee.

“Change the sheets. Bailee’s staying over tonight.”

Bailee glanced at me and then, in a pitiful tone, said, “Mr. Kennedy, it’s alright. I’ll just go home. I don’t want to trouble Miss Sullivan.”

Upon hearing this, Rhys shot me a glare, “Hurry up and change them. Stop wasting time.”

Looking at the face in front of me, so similar to the woman in