Chapter 84

Chapter 84

After washing up and coming out of the bathroom, I was heading back to my room to sleep.

Passing the study, I noticed the door was ajar, light spilling out.

I lightened my steps, about to leave, when I heard an unfamiliar, somewhat urgent voice from inside.

"Mr. Clifford, we all know you're protecting Ms. Neville, but this incident's impact is too damaging! Everyone's saying you offended the entire Brooks Group's shareholders for her sake, even used connections to bankrupt Paxton. This... this is extremely detrimental to our subsequent acquisition plans!"

My feet froze in place.

A video conference.

Immediately after, another sharper female voice rang out. "More than detrimental! Mr. Clifford, forgive my bluntness, but Ms. Neville's background and history are completely unworthy of you. That messy situation with Beauchamp caused citywide gossip. Right after you rescued her from the fire, she's being ambiguous with people at galas. She's trouble! You deserve better, not a woman who only brings you negative press and endless problems!"

"Exactly right! The Clifford family's lady absolutely cannot be such a woman with a tarnished reputation!"

Word by word, voice after voice—like poisoned icicles, mercilessly stabbing into my heart.

I leaned against the cold wall, my blood seemingly frozen throughout my body.

So this was how they saw me.

Tarnished reputation, ambiguous relationships, a massive burden.

They were right.

Since my rebirth, I'd thought I could control everything. But in reality, I was overwhelmed, constantly in trouble.

The fire, the drugging, being entangled by Beauchamp, being schemed against by Monica...

Sebastian always cleaned up after me.

Not only had I failed to help him, but I'd become his greatest burden.

I could even imagine the expressions on those people's faces—how heartbroken they must be, how unworthy they thought it all was for their brilliant boss.

My chest felt blocked by a boulder, suffocating me.

Instinctively wanting to flee, my body swayed, and my elbow accidentally knocked into a decorative vase by the wall.

A soft clink.

In the silent night, especially jarring.

The voices in the study stopped abruptly.

I'm done for.

My mind went blank. I almost immediately turned to run, but the study door had already opened from inside.

Sebastian's expression was unreadable in the interplay of light and shadow.

"Meeting suspended."

Then he closed the door, shutting out everything inside.

Only he and I remained in the hallway. The air was terrifyingly quiet.

"I... I didn't mean to eavesdrop." I kept my head down, my voice hoarse with apology. "I was just passing by... I'm sorry."

He said nothing.

This silence was more painful than any harsh rebuke.

Right—how could someone like him allow his wife to become the butt of others' jokes?

That sharp inferiority and embarrassment suppressed deep in my heart completely exploded in this moment.

I raised my head, meeting his unfathomable gaze.

"Sebastian, let's get divorced."

Saying those words, I actually felt that boulder in my chest lift slightly.

He looked at me, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly.

I smiled self-deprecatingly and continued explaining. "They're right. I'm not worthy of you. I only bring you trouble. This marriage was a transaction to begin with. Now... now I want to terminate it early."

"I checked. Our marriage certificate..." I took a deep breath, delivering that prepared excuse. "A few days ago, my place was robbed. Mine was stolen."

Without the marriage certificate, divorce procedures would become very complicated, dragging on for some time. Maybe once things died down, this could be handled quietly.

This was the way I could think of that would impact him the least.

Sebastian listened quietly to me finish, his expression unchanged.

Just when I thought he'd agree, or at least ask why, he suddenly spoke. "Mine is lost too."

"What?" I froze.

"A few days ago," he looked at me, his tone as flat as if commenting on nice weather, "I threw it in the river."

I fell silent.

Looking at his deadpan face, I couldn't tell for a moment whether he was joking or serious.

Threw the marriage certificate in the river?

What kind of bizarre operation was that?

My mind spun several times before I found my voice. "If it's lost... we can get a replacement. We can go to City Hall tomorrow..."

"Can't replace it." He interrupted me.

"Why not?"

He was silent for a moment, as if just remembering something, then added, "I'm in a military marriage."

Those words were like a thunderclap, exploding in my mind.

Military marriage?

"You... aren't you a businessman?"

"Retired." He said flatly. "I trained with special forces before."

My brain completely crashed.

Special forces...

Military marriages were specially protected under national law.

Divorce conditions were extremely stringent.

Unless the military spouse had major faults—like domestic violence, abuse, abandonment—otherwise, if the other party filed for divorce, courts typically wouldn't support it.

Would Sebastian have major faults?

I tried imagining him being violent toward me...

Forget it. I'd probably scare myself to death first.

A huge, helpless sense of defeat overwhelmed me.

I'd schemed so hard, even concocted that lame excuse about the marriage certificate being stolen, only for him to pull the rug out from under me—telling me this marriage simply couldn't be dissolved?

Looking at my expression shifting from shock to disbelief to utter despair, something like extremely faint amusement seemed to flash in Sebastian's eyes—so quickly I thought it was an illusion.

He took a step forward, his tall figure completely enveloping me.

That crisp, cool scent mixed with his unique presence permeated every pore, invading my nostrils.

He lowered his head slightly, those deep eyes looking straight at me, his voice low and textured in an indescribable way. "Must we divorce?"

I looked at him.

Looked at those eyes that remained deep even in dim light—no mockery, no interrogation, only calm inquiry.

My throat felt blocked by something. I couldn't speak a word.

Right—must we divorce?

I'd proposed divorce to avoid burdening him, to prevent him from bearing infamy because of me, and to keep the Clifford family's reputation from being tarnished.

But he'd used "military marriage" to block all my escape routes.

He didn't even ask why I'd overheard those words, didn't explain those people's accusations—just asked me this one light question.

As if I hadn't proposed divorce, but whether we should have a late-night snack tonight.

My nose tingled. That grievance of being misunderstood and self-righteous embarrassment instantly rushed to my eyes.