Warmth Beckons, Spring Unfolds

Today is my ninth wedding anniversary with Joe.

At the dining table, my two stepsons are lost in a video call with their birth mother, Pamela. The younger one, Frank, pouts as he tattles. "Mommy, when are you coming home? The food this old witch makes is disgusting." Jonathan, the elder, merely shoots me a cold glance, his disgust laid bare.

Joe sits at the head of the table, polishing his cutlery as if none of this concerns him.

Setting down my fork and knife, I speak calmly. "Joe, let's get a divorce."

He looks up. "What game are you trying to play now, Allison?"

I simply shake my head, feeling neither sorrow nor anger. "The nine-year agreement is up. It's time we divorced."

…

Silence falls over the large dining room, so profound you could hear a pin drop.

Jonathan and Frank pause their call with Pamela, staring at me as if I’ve lost my mind.

The mockery on Joe’s face freezes, then twists into irritation. "Had your fill of this drama?"

"This isn't drama." I stand, my gaze sweeping calmly over the three of them—father and sons. "Nine years ago, I promised your mother I would marry you and look after Jonathan and Frank. Today is the last day. My duty is done."

Brenda—Joe’s mother.

Nine years ago, my only sister, Catherine, was suddenly diagnosed with acute leukemia. She needed a bone marrow transplant and a staggering amount of money for treatment, just as I had reached a dead end. That was when Brenda found me.

A powerful society matriarch from old money, she approached a young actress whose career had just been destroyed overnight by a rival’s malicious, fabricated scandal.

She offered me a check—enough to save my sister’s life.

Her condition? Marry her son, Joe. Become a stepmother to his two children. For nine years.

Joe, the infamous playboy heir of the Capital City. His one true love, Pamela, was a race car driver chasing her dreams. After giving birth to their second child, she flew abroad to compete and then vanished without a trace.

Heartbroken, Joe got into a car accident and nearly lost a leg.

Brenda needed someone to care for her injured son and two young grandsons, to uphold the family’s dignity. I needed money to save my sister.

It was a perfect match.

I signed the nine-year marriage contract. I signed away nine years of my youth.

"Old witch, don’t think I don’t know you’re just using this trick to get Dad’s attention!" Jonathan scoffs, pushing his steak plate away. "Stop acting. It’s disgusting."

For nine years, I’ve cleaned up his messes after fights, stayed up through his fevers, and—still bearing the faded title of ‘Beauty of the Century’—attended parent-teacher meetings when classmates mocked him for having no mother. All of it earned him plenty of face.

Yet none of it compares to a single video call from Pamela.

Ignoring him, I look only at Joe. "I’ll have my lawyer prepare the