Chapter 1 She Wants a Divorce

It was a dead-quiet summer night in Kouver. Yolanda Langford was killing time on the couch, glued to her phone, when she saw a headline.

"Thorne Group CEO Randolph Thorne Steps Out with Hot Actress Ursula Dorne—Reporters Catch Them Red-Handed Spending the Night Together at a Hotel..."

The story spread like wildfire online, topping every trending list within minutes.

Yolanda pushed up her black-rimmed glasses, her face a blank slate as she stared at the photo. But even the low-quality shots were clear enough to show a man and a woman locked in a passionate kiss by a window.

The man was her husband, the heir to Kouver's most powerful family and the man who practically owned the city's economy.

The whole thing was a joke, really.

They had been married for two years, yet Randolph hadn't set foot in their home once. He didn't even bother to show up for their wedding registration. Instead, he had sent his lawyer with their IDs to handle it.

Yolanda had always known he was dead-set against the marriage. The only reason he went through with it was to appease his grandmother, Claudia Gomez.

Years ago, Yolanda's grandfather, Richard Langford, saved Claudia's life. To repay the debt, she insisted Randolph marry Yolanda, hoping to give her a secure and comfortable life.

She had clung to a glimmer of hope for their marriage at first. But for the past two years, he had been busy getting caught in one scandal after another with various starlets.

Yolanda pursed her lips, then pulled out her phone and dialed Randolph's number. It was the first time in two years she had made the call.

The phone rang and was picked up almost instantly.

"Hi, it's Yolanda."

"Yolanda? Who's that?"

Randolph's voice came through the line, rich and deep, with a hint of magnetism. Even with the ice in his tone, it still sounded maddeningly good.

Yolanda scoffed, tightening her grip on the phone. As expected, the man didn't even know his own wife's name.

"I'm the other name on your marriage certificate."

"Oh. It's you. What is it?" His voice got even colder.

Yolanda adjusted her glasses and said, "I want a divorce."

The line went dead quiet for a moment.

"You've thought this through?" Randolph asked.

"You bet I have."

"Name your terms."

"That's not necessary! I couldn't care less about your money, Mr. Thorne. And I'll be damned if I share a man with anyone. The divorce agreement is ready. I'm walking away with nothing." She said her piece in a single breath and then ended the call before he could reply.

Other than a marriage certificate, they were strangers. From this point on, they would go their separate ways with no ties left between them.

Yolanda went upstairs and slipped off her black-rimmed glasses, revealing a stunning face.

She set the pre-written divorce agreement on the coffee table, grabbed her packed suitcase, and walked out the door without a backward glance.

…

A warm, amber glow filled the CEO's office of Thorne Group CEO. Randolph sat back in his chair, looking every bit the part of a high-society heir in just a simple white shirt and black slacks.

He glanced at his phone screen, a slight scoff escaping his lips. His so-called wife had finally caved to the loneliness and decided to call it quits.

There was a knock at the door, and his assistant, Keith Delgado, walked in. "Mr. Thorne, Mr. Wagner is expecting you."

Randolph simply grunted in acknowledgment, stood, and grabbed the jacket draped over the back of his chair. "Kill that trending story, Keith. Also, have the lawyers finalize my divorce."

Keith didn't know what to say. Randolph was a man who lived by the book, yet he'd been stirring up one phony scandal after another, all for this very moment.

…

Yolanda grabbed a cab and went directly to her own place. The apartment was a three-bedroom unit right in the city center. In an area where real estate was worth its weight in gold, the complex had all the bells and whistles.

After dropping her suitcase, Yolanda went to the huge floor-to-ceiling windows. She stood there for a bit, soaking in the dazzling city lights. She then took out her phone to call her best friend, Tabitha Swanson.

"I'm a free woman, Tabitha."

"Seriously? Landa, you're finally divorced? Hell yes! Let's go out and party to celebrate your new life!"

"I'm in."

Chapter 2 Tangled up With Her Ex

Yolanda pulled up to Sapphire Veil Club about half an hour later. It was the hottest spot in Kouver, the place where all the bigwigs and money men went to blow off some steam.

The music on the first floor was blasting at full volume, shaking the whole building to its foundations. On the dance floor, under the wild, flashing lights, the crowd was going all out, dancing their hearts out and working up a sweat.

Yolanda's heels clacked on the stairs as she went to the second floor. She found Tabitha chilling in a booth with a drink in hand, taking in the scene. She gave Tabitha a quick tap.

"Tabitha."

Tabitha had a cherubic face, and her features were exquisitely delicate. She clicked her tongue. "Look at you, gorgeous. Get over here and give me some sugar."

She pulled Yolanda into a hug and gave her a big, loud kiss on the cheek. Yolanda laughed, playfully shoving her away. Then, she poured herself a drink.

"Landa, seriously, Randolph has to be the dumbest guy on the planet. Who in their right mind would leave a drop-dead gorgeous, brilliant woman like you just to mess around with random chicks?"

Tabitha clinked her glass against Yolanda's, shaking her head as if mourning a great loss.

Yolanda took a slow sip, her smile radiant. "Yeah, he's a real piece of work."

To Randolph, she was probably just some country bumpkin, as boring as they came. He had no idea what he had been keeping at home.

Tabitha let out a derisive snort. "Please, you're Yolanda the Gorgeous. If he's letting you go, there's a line of guys around the block dying to get a shot."

She hooked an arm around Yolanda's neck. "Landa, you're divorced, and you still haven't tasted a real man. People would laugh their asses off if they knew. I know tons of quality guys. What's your type? I'll hook you up tonight."

Yolanda gave her a deadpan stare. Was Tabitha really that desperate to see her get laid?

"Knock it off. Just drink with me. From now on, I'm focusing on my career."

"Hell yeah. Nothing's hotter than a woman on her grind. Landa, it's you and me against the world now."

"Oh, please. Say that again, and your guy's going to come after me with a butcher knife."

The two of them drank and chatted until they were both a bit buzzed. Tabitha tried to drag Yolanda to the dance floor, but Yolanda's stomach felt a little full from all the drinks, so she figured she'd hit the restroom first.

The bathroom on the second floor was out of order, so Yolanda took the elevator to the third floor.

The entire third floor was just private rooms. She walked across the carpeted hardwood, her feet sinking into the softness with every step.

Being a little tipsy, Yolanda's legs wobbled, and she leaned heavily to one side. As she shoved the door to a private room open, she lost her footing and tumbled to the floor.

The room was pitch dark, and all she could hear was the sound of a running faucet coming from the bedroom.

Yolanda's head was swimming. She groggily got to her feet and made a move to get out of there.

Just then, the bedroom door swung open, and a man yanked her back, slamming her into the wall. "Who the hell are you? You have some nerve, trying to pull a fast one on me!"

His voice was pure rage, but with an edge of raw, barely-contained desire.

The collision knocked some sense back into Yolanda's scrambled brain. It was Randolph!

"I didn't do anything!"

"You didn't? Then how did you get in here?"

His breathing in the dark was rough and uneven, as if he were fighting a losing battle with himself.

"I-I went into the wrong room. Get off—"

Her eyes went wide as his mouth crashed down on hers. She tried to push him off.

"Help me, and I'll make it worth your while."

Yolanda's mind went blank. She had just signed the divorce agreement, and now, she was tangled up with her ex?

…

After a wild night, Yolanda woke up feeling like she'd been run over by a truck.

The sheer curtains fluttered in a soft morning breeze, and a hint of light filtered in, tracing the handsome, peaceful lines of Randolph's sleeping face.

Yolanda stared at him for a couple of seconds, frozen in place. Then, gritting her teeth against the aches in her body, she eased herself out of bed.

She had just brought up the divorce yesterday, only to wake up in his bed today. Knowing how arrogant he was, he'd probably think she pulled this stunt just to keep him around. She couldn't let that happen.

Yolanda clenched her jaw, scrambled into her clothes, and quietly slipped out of the room.

A moment later, the door to the private room diagonally across the hall swung open.

Chapter 3 Pretending to Be Her

Ursula Dorne had a sour look on her face. She shot a quick look around, pulled her coat tighter, and picked up her pace.

Last night, her agent had taken her to dinner with some of the movers and shakers in the industry, all to get her a new part. But in the middle of dinner, her head started to swim.

When she woke up, she was in the bed of director Robert Lanner. The sleazy old guy had actually taken advantage of her.

But in the entertainment industry, these things were par for the course. If she wanted to be the leading lady, she had no choice but to swallow her pride and play along.

A powerful wave of feeling hit Ursula, and her legs gave way. She lost her footing and staggered to one side, colliding with a private room door with a muffled thump. She took a deep breath, quickly straightened up, and smoothed her clothes, ready to leave.

Just then, the door clicked open. Randolph was standing in the doorway, wearing a white bathrobe. His sharp, deep-set eyes gave her a cold stare.

Ursula's heart leaped into her throat, and a sudden feeling of guilt came out of the blue. "M-Mr. Thorne."

She and Randolph had been all over the trending lists for the past few days. The word on the street was that she was Randolph's new favorite, but she was the only one who knew the real story. It was all a publicity stunt her agent had orchestrated for a bit of buzz.

Randolph had always given her the cold shoulder. But for some reason, he hadn't bothered to set the record straight about the rumors.

"Was it you in my room last night?"

Randolph stared Ursula down, his gaze locked on the faint red marks dotting her neck. His eyes turned cold.

He'd been awake and aware when the woman in his bed got up, but she had made a run for it before he could stop her. With the hallway empty except for Ursula, he figured it had to be her who had helped him last night.

Ursula froze, her eyes flashing as she looked at Randolph. Wait, did he sleep with a woman last night and not have a clue who it was?

"Mr. Thorne, I—"

"Get in here. We'll talk inside."

Randolph's tone softened a notch as he recalled the trace of crimson on the bedsheets. Ursula's heart soared, and she hurried after him.

"You said you stumbled into my room by mistake last night?"

Randolph settled onto the couch, barely lifting his eyes to take her in. If she hadn't pulled a fast one on him, then he owed her a favor.

"Yes. I was meant to be in another room to audition for a part with Mr. Lanner, but I must've ended up in the wrong room," Ursula said, dropping her gaze to conceal the shrewd look in her eyes.

Randolph was quiet for a beat. "How can I make this up to you?"

Ursula glanced at him. "No worries, Mr. Thorne. We're both adults. I'm not going to make a fuss over what happened last night."

Randolph was the top dog in Kouver. He had so much pull that if he so much as cleared his throat, the whole city would jump.

He'd been with more women than anyone could keep track of. One more night wouldn't mean a thing to him. Had Ursula asked for compensation, it would have only made him think less of her.

"You're one of Starlight Media's biggest stars. Don't worry. I'll hook you up with the best of everything. You'll be an A-list celebrity within the year," Randolph said.

Ursula was over the moon. She suppressed the joy bubbling inside her and replied calmly, "Thank you, Mr. Thorne."

"You're free to go."

Randolph, seeing her unflappable demeanor, thought more highly of her than before.

"Alright." Ursula kept her emotions in check and turned to leave.

"Wait," Randolph called out.

Her breath caught in her throat. She whirled around to see him getting up from the couch, picking up a flawless emerald pendant from the floor right beside the bed.

"Is this yours?"

Chapter 4 Fender Bender

Ursula's eyes lit up as she took the emerald pendant from Randolph's grasp.

"It's mine," she said.

It had to belong to the woman who was here last night. But who on earth was she? The pendant looked so familiar, but she just couldn't place it. Where had she seen it before?

Randolph's deep voice snapped her out of her thoughts. "Are we done here? If so, you can leave now."

Ursula hustled the pendant into her pocket, shot Randolph a gentle glance, and then left quickly.

Once she was gone, Keith stepped inside.

"Mr. Thorne, are you okay?" he asked.

Randolph dropped onto the couch, massaging his temples as a pounding headache started to set in. "Did you find out who messed with my drink last night?"

Keith glanced at him and didn't mince words. "Yes, it was Mr. Wagner. He had heard the gossip that you have a thing for women. He spiked your drink to get you to let your guard down and agree to his deal."

He grumbled in his head. Randolph was always neck-deep in one scandal after another. No surprise someone nearly used it against him.

A dangerous glint sparked in Randolph's eyes. "Get Jason Wagner out of Kouver. I never want to see him again."

"Right away."

…

As soon as she got home, Yolanda plugged in her dead phone and headed to the bathroom to run a bath. She slid into the warm water, letting the heat melt away her stress.

She closed her eyes, but Randolph's voice still played in her head. Just like the memory of his scorching kisses, each one a fiery brand against her skin.

She plunged her head underwater, trying to bury the humiliation and anger she felt.

After she had collected herself and stepped out of the bath, she noticed her pendant was missing. She had been wearing it around her neck since she was a kid. It was a cherished possession. It must have fallen off during the tussle last night, in that room at Sapphire Veil Club.

Fuming, Yolanda gave Randolph another earful in her mind.

Once her phone had been charged a little, she grabbed it and powered it on. A bunch of missed calls and texts from Tabitha flooded the screen. She called Tabitha right back.

"Wait, what? You hooked up with Randolph last night?"

As expected, Tabitha's voice went up an octave in disbelief. Yolanda pulled the phone away from her ear, giving Tabitha a moment to get over the shock.

"Hey, don't act so surprised. You're the one who told me it was a shame that I went through a divorce without ever getting a taste of a man. Well, now I've tried it."

"So, how was it?"

Yolanda hesitated, then cleared her throat. "It was okay, I guess. Anyway, I've got to go."

She ended the call, patted her burning cheeks, and forced herself not to dwell on the R-rated flashbacks.

After breakfast, she glanced around the empty house. With a day off, she figured she'd head to a nursery to grab some flowers and plants to liven things up.

Yolanda drove to the nursery on the south side of town. She was a new driver, so she was extra careful. Just as she was turning onto a quiet street, a sharp jolt rocked her car.

She'd been rear-ended. She slammed on the brakes. The force of the collision sent her flying forward, her chest smacking into the steering wheel. What the heck? Could the person behind her even drive?

Rubbing her sore chest, Yolanda took a moment to calm down. With a frown, she opened the car door and got out to check the damage. The back of her car was dented. It was a brand-new car!

Yolanda was instantly peeved and turned to glare at the person who caused it. But the driver was just sitting in their car, acting like it was no big deal.

Her expression hardened. She stomped over and rapped on the window. "You hit my car. Get out now."

The window glided down, and a guy with a perfectly sculpted face came into view.

Chapter 5 She Is Sage

Randolph!

Yolanda froze in her tracks. She turned away on instinct so that he wouldn't see her. But then she realized he had no clue who she was. Why was she even hiding? She spun back around.

"Sir, can you even drive? You had a whole lane to yourself and still managed to hit me?"

Randolph shot her a glance, his tone cold and laced with sarcasm. "Were you driving or going for a stroll? A snail could've beaten you!"

Yolanda was speechless for a second before snapping back, "Sir, the speed limit is 40. Can you even see the signs? If your eyes are that bad, do everyone a favor and get some glasses before you get behind the wheel."

What a sharp tongue she had!

Randolph gave her another look, and the air grew thick with tension. The weight of it hit like a punch to the gut.

Yolanda fought to keep her composure, putting on a brave face as if she were just trying to be reasonable.

After a pause, Randolph checked his watch, then flicked a business card at her without a flicker of emotion. "I'm in a rush. Once your car's fixed, head to Thorne Group. My assistant will sort out the reimbursement."

Without another word, he rolled up the window and fired up the engine.

Yolanda watched the gold-foiled business card flutter to the asphalt and let out a humorless laugh.

When they were married, she put up with his indifference and disrespect. But now? They were no more than strangers. And she wasn't about to put up with his high-and-mighty attitude!

Yolanda hopped in her car, started the engine, and floored it, chasing after him.

Randolph, who was on the phone, suddenly felt a jolt. The impact sent him lurching forward, and his phone slipped from his hand, clattering to the floor. He slammed on the brakes and looked over.

Yolanda's car was right beside him. She rolled down her window, flashing him a dazzling smile. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed a business card that arced through the air and landed softly on the asphalt.

"Sir, I'm in a rush too. Once your car's fixed, feel free to reach out."

She then drove away, leaving him in her dust.

Randolph's expression darkened like a brewing storm. Did she seriously not know who she was messing with? She had some guts, he'd give her that.

His phone rang. He picked it up from the floor, his face a stone mask.

"Dolph, what's up? You dropped off the call."

"Nothing. Just ran into a wildcat on the road," Randolph said, a chilly smirk playing on his lips.

"Are you pulling up yet? The gemstone gambling is about to kick off."

"Almost there."

…

Yolanda felt like she had finally gotten something off her chest. In a great mood, she went to the nursery.

She picked out a few potted plants and fresh flowers and arranged for them to be delivered to her apartment building. Afterward, she swung by the mall and the grocery store to grab some necessities.

Back home, she hummed a tune while carefully decorating the place. When she was done, her entire apartment had a new lease on life, and she felt the same way.

…

Night crept in, and Randolph was back in Sapphire Veil Club, lounging on a fancy leather couch with an acquisition agreement.

Standing before him was a young man, Clive Wilkinson. He was a good-looking guy who usually held it together, but now, he looked completely beaten. "Mr. Thorne, I'm a man of my word. I just hope you'll look after the staff at my studio."

Randolph pursed his lips as he scanned the document, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Are you sure this is Sage Marlowe, the up-and-coming designer making waves internationally?"

Clive looked him in the eye and nodded. "Yeah, that's her. She's always kept a low profile. I hope you'll treat her well."

It was her.

Randolph's eyes narrowed, a glint of danger flashing in them. "Don't you worry, Mr. Wilkinson. I always take care of people who prove their worth. You're free to go."

Clive gave him one last look, hesitating to speak, but he eventually held his tongue and left. The room went quiet.

Randolph stared at the woman's smiling face on the document, a devilish smirk playing on his lips.