Did Lysander really not find his own words ridiculous?


    M didn''t want to stoop to such a level. It was beneath her, and Lysander wouldn''t care anyway. In seven years of marriage, everything and everyone else had always been more important than her. This was the consistent behavior Lysander had shown from the start.


    Saying anything would only be humiliating herself.


    Just then, there was a sudden, urgent knocking at the door, apanied by a soft, anxious female voice.


    "Lysander, are you in there? I''ming in."


    It was Giselle.


    Speak of the devil, and she appears.


    M smirked coldly, casting a half-amused nce at Lysander. "Think it over. If


    you just sign the divorce papers, your beloved can have a legal status."


    The knocking grew more frantic, but the locked door refused to budge.


    "Lysander! Lysander? Are you okay in there?"


    Giselle''s voice was full of concern, almost on the verge of tears, as if Lysander had met some dire fate inside.


    M had to resist the urge to hand her an Oscar for the performance.


    Lysander looked at the woman in his arms, frowning deeply. Seeing Giselle nearly in tears outside, he finally let go.


    "I''ll go out for a bit, but divorce is out of the question. You can forget about it."


    With that, he got up and strode towards the door.


    The moment the door opened, Giselle, who had been pounding on it, tried to rush in, but Lysander held her back.


    Still, she saw M sprawled on the couch, her dress in disarray.


    "Lysander, you said you were just going to the restroom. When you didn''te back, I got worried something happened. I asked the bartender and found out you were here. I''m d you''re okay."


    Giselle withdrew her gaze from the room, her expression full of concern as she grabbed Lysander''s hand, inspecting it. Noticing the cut on his lip made her pause, briefly hiding the sh of venom in her eyes.


    Damn M. Every time she appears, trouble follows. Always clinging to Lysander.


    Couldn''t she see how much Lysander disliked her?


    Seven years of marriage, and she still couldn''t win Lysander''s heart. No self- awareness at all. Instead of bowing out gracefully, she kept ruining things for her.


    She had almost convinced Lysander toe back to the party, but he left midway, now standing with M.


    It must be M, seducing and entangling him again.


    M chuckled softly, ncing at the two nearly glued together at the door. "Ms. Harvey, didn''t you twist your ankle? You seem pretty spry."


    Lysander frowned slightly. "Giselle, your ankle..."


    "Oh, I didn''t even notice." Giselle wobbled a bit, clutching Lysander''s offered hand, her face painted with pain. "I was so worried about you I didn''t pay attention, and now it hurts even more."


    M couldn''t help butugh, giving her a silent thumbs-up. "Ms. Harvey, you''re quite impressive."


    Giselle, leaning half her body against Lysander due to the ''pain,'' looked even more pitiful at M''s words. "Lysander..."


    Lysander shot M a re. "Why don''t you keep quiet?"


    Turning back to Giselle, his tone softened, "Let me help you to another room to


    rest. I''ll arrange for someone to take you home."


    "No, I''ll just rest here," Giselle insisted, trying to move into the room.


    But she didn''t get far.


    Lysander held her firmly in ce, frowning. "Your ankle is in this condition; I''ll just arrange for someone to take you home."


    Giselle bit her lip, tears brimming in her eyes. "Lysander, you promised. You said you''de home with me tonight."