The Unloved Possession

Jane Green's POV

The bedroom was filled with that familiar scent that made my heart race and my cheeks flush.

This session of sex had lasted nearly an hour. Andrew Lopez was like an insatiable beast, taking me again and again until I was completely exhausted, even my toes curling and trembling. Only then did he climax inside me with a low, sexy growl.

I collapsed on the bed, my body covered in tiny beads of sweat. In the dim light, I stared obsessively at Andrew's profile—that face as deeply perfect as a sculpture, radiating a cold detachment even after sex.

Out of habit, I reached out to wrap my arms around his neck—our only moment of tenderness in the afterglow.

But this time, a warm yet firm hand stopped me.

Andrew pushed my hand away.

The movement wasn't rough, but it was like a bucket of ice water, instantly shattering the intimate atmosphere.

I froze, awkwardly pulling my hand back. Andrew was acting strange today.

Instead of holding me for a while like usual, he quickly got up and walked naked into the bathroom to shower and dress, his muscular body on full display.

In that moment, he transformed from a passionate lover back into a cold employer, as if his breathing in my ear moments ago had been just my imagination.

I propped up my aching body and sat up, watching him in the bathroom with his bare back to me, slowly and deliberately putting on his pants.

As he fastened his belt, my eyes involuntarily fell on his tight, powerful waistline—those eight-pack abs that drove countless women crazy, and the source of countless moments of extreme pleasure for me over these three years.

Andrew might not be a qualified husband, but he was definitely the perfect sex partner.

Maybe it was precisely because our compatibility in bed was so surprisingly high that this "contract marriage" of three years had remained so stable.

That's right, this was just a transaction.

Three years ago, my mother, Thora Green, was critically ill and needed a million dollars for surgery. I had nowhere else to turn. Andrew appeared with a contract, buying three years of my identity as his "wife." The terms were crystal clear: we could do anything except love.

Including discussing what positions during sex would bring us the greatest comfort in the depths of night.

Andrew put on his shirt, his slender fingers buttoning it up. With his back to me, he said in a flat tone:

"Nancy is coming back."

Nancy?

The moment I heard that name, all my romantic thoughts evaporated instantly.

Nancy Gonzalez. Andrew's true love, the first love he'd been waiting for four whole years.

In front of that name, I—a "contract wife" who merely existed to satisfy Andrew's physical needs and accompany him to social events—seemed so insignificant.

I took a deep breath, my nails digging hard into my palm, forcing myself to squeeze out a proper smile. I couldn't lose my composure in front of him—that would be crossing the line that the contract didn't allow.

I quickly put on my robe, locking all my emotions behind this thick armor in my heart, and asked softly, "So? What do you need me to do?"

My composure seemed to surprise him. Andrew paused in his buttoning, then turned around, his eyes coldly examining me.

"I'll have the lawyer draft divorce papers," he said coldly.

The word "divorce" hit my heart like a hammer.

But I didn't cry or question him. I was even more understanding than he'd imagined. I immediately got out of bed, grabbed his suit jacket from the rack, and stood on my tiptoes to drape it over his shoulders with practiced ease.

"Okay, I'll sign them."

My compliance made Andrew frown instead. He suddenly reached out, gripped my chin, and forced me to look up at him. A flash of irritation I couldn't understand crossed his deep eyes.

"So obedient?" His voice carried a hint of dangerous huskiness.

I smiled, a flawless smile.

"Can I not be obedient, Mr. Lopez?" I looked straight into his eyes. "I'm just your contract wife. I know my place very well. You saved my mother, gave me a comfortable life—how could I dare become an obstacle to your pursuit of true love?"

"Since Nancy is back, it's time for me to exit. Don't worry, I'll make a clean exit. I absolutely won't let her know we were ever married."

These words seemed to both please and irritate him further.

He stared at me for a few seconds, finally just patting my face lightly, the gesture like comforting an obedient pet.

"Good."

He turned and left, leaving me alone in the empty bedroom, my heart sinking bit by bit.

Andrew's POV

Damn it.

In the bathroom, cold water washed over my body, but couldn't wash away the inexplicable irritation in my heart.

Jane's compliant expression when she agreed to the divorce kept replaying in my mind.

Three years. I'd shared a bed with her for three whole years.

She was my legal wife, my only woman for these three years.

I thought that even if it was for my money, or even because of our sexual compatibility, she would at least show a hint of reluctance when hearing "divorce," even just a little bit of sadness.

But she didn't.

She was as calm as an outsider, as if these three years of days and nights really were just a job to her.

This gave me an unprecedented sense of defeat.

I turned off the faucet and looked at myself in the mirror. I was Andrew, a top star in the entertainment industry, the ruler of a business empire. Countless women threw themselves at me. Could it be that in these three years, Jane hadn't developed even the slightest feelings for me?

Impossible.

I dried off and walked out of the bathroom, leaving our room and heading downstairs.

Downstairs, Jane had already changed into a simple set of loungewear. She was barefoot, busy in the kitchen, like a docile little cat. Seeing me come down, she brought over a bowl of freshly made milk and oatmeal.

"Eat something. Your stomach hasn't been good these past few years. Not eating in the morning will make it hurt," she said softly, head lowered.

If this were any other time, I would have appreciated it. But then she added, "We're getting divorced soon, so I won't be able to make this for you anymore. You need to learn to take care of yourself. Stop drinking iced coffee on an empty stomach."

My spoon clinked against the bowl with a harsh sound.

Was she trying to make me ask her to stay this way? Using this kind of gentle knife?

Dream on!

The woman I loved had always been Nancy. Four years ago, when my parents died, and I was at the darkest point in my life, Nancy appeared like an angel to light my way. Although she abandoned me at our engagement ceremony, making me the laughingstock of the entire city, I knew she must have had her reasons.

I'd worked desperately these four years, climbing to the top, just waiting for her to come back and give me an explanation.

Or maybe she didn't need to explain at all. Just having her by my side would be enough.

I swallowed the oatmeal in big gulps, but the warmth in my stomach couldn't dispel the coldness in my heart. To prove my determination to divorce, I deliberately said coldly:

"In the divorce agreement, I'll give you an additional compensation payment. You can also make any requests."

Jane didn't refuse, just nodded obediently with lowered eyes.

In that moment, I should have felt relieved, but I only felt suffocated.

Just then, my phone rang. The name dancing on the screen was the one that haunted my dreams—"Nancy."

I instinctively walked a few steps away with my phone, turning my back to Jane to answer the call.

"Andrew," Nancy's sweet, soft voice came through, with a hint of grievance, "I'm already at the airport. You said you'd come pick me up, why aren't you here yet?"

My heart softened, the cold expression I'd worn with Jane melting instantly.

But I didn't notice that behind me, Jane was watching, and the last bit of light in her eyes was slowly going out.