Love, Hate, and Revenge

Chapter 3

"Miss, who are you looking for? Do you have an appointment?"

As soon as Ivy Winslow reached the front desk, the secretary stationed outside Sebastian Hastings' office asked her coldly and arrogantly.

Ivy's heart ached with bitterness. She had been married to Sebastian Hastings for years, yet no one knew she was the president's wife. No one recognized her. She had never even set foot in this place before. Today, she had come, but it was to collect her divorce certificate.

"I'm here at Sebastian Hastings' invitation," Ivy Winslow said, her voice cold and sharp. These people always bullied the weak and feared the strong.

Sure enough, at the mention of Sebastian Hastings' name, the secretary hurriedly picked up the phone.

"Miss, please go in," the secretary said moments later, a hint of warmth finally appearing in her manner as she politely gestured for Ivy to enter.

Ivy Winslow walked past her and headed straight for the president's office.

The lavishly decorated office was bright and clean, full of character.

Sebastian Hastings was a man of impeccable taste, always living with exquisite refinement. Though luxurious, the office's decor was never garish—striking a balance between elegance and accessibility.

Off to one side stood a spacious, dark crimson desk. Opposite it, on a beige leather sofa, Sebastian Hastings lounged comfortably, leaning back. The petite, sexy Gina Moretti was sitting on his lap, her arms wrapped around his neck, her entire chest pressed against his broad torso.

The two were locked in a passionate, fervent kiss.

Ivy Winslow froze, her whole body trembling, a chill running through her mind. So, specifically asking her to come to the office to get the divorce certificate was merely a way to humiliate her.

Her heart felt unbearably sour and bitter. She turned to leave.

"Stop." Sebastian Hastings' cold command rang out. Even as he kissed Gina Moretti as if no one else were there, his peripheral vision had long since caught sight of Ivy approaching.

Ivy Winslow's heart bled. Her feet felt too heavy to move.

"Baby, step out for a moment," Sebastian Hastings finally ended the passionate, lingering kiss. His long arm rested on Gina Moretti's waist, his fair, elegant hand wandering restlessly.

"No!" Gina Moretti pouted, acting coy and docile.

"Be good." Sebastian Hastings frowned slightly, his tone cooling. "I have some things to deal with. In a bit, I'll take you to pick out a gift for your father."

"Really?" Gina Moretti's eyes widened with delight, gleaming with joy, her heart leaping with ecstasy. She obediently stood up.

Sebastian Hastings had actually agreed to meet her father. Did that mean he had agreed to marry her? A blissful flush suffused her beautiful cheeks. Her eyes shimmered. She had finally waited for this day.

Sebastian Hastings smiled faintly, but his gaze shifted towards Ivy Winslow.

Gina Moretti's heart felt as if it were filled with honey. Content and satisfied, she left. As she passed Ivy Winslow, she held her head high, her face full of contempt and disdain.

Soon, only the two of them remained in the office.

Her heart had long since ached into numbness. The air was thick with the lingering, cloying perfume Gina Moretti wore, and the residue of their intimacy.

Ivy Winslow felt very uncomfortable, a little dizzy.

"Where is it?" She steadied herself and held out her hand, wanting only to end this quickly and suffer less humiliation. She didn't want to stay in this place a moment longer.

"No hurry." Sebastian Hastings smiled wickedly, rising gracefully from the sofa. He slowly closed in on her, his handsome face full of inquiry, scrutiny, and mockery. "Why the rush for a divorce? Did you already find someone new?"

Ivy Winslow was furious inside, but her eyebrows curved into an alluring arc. Looking at the faint, infuriating smile playing on his lips, she suddenly felt like slapping him. He had been the one pushing for a divorce all along, and now he was making it seem like she was the one in a hurry.

"Sebastian Hastings, we no longer have any relationship. Please show me some respect," she said, her face expressionless, her brows and eyes icy cold, her voice hard and sharp. This was the first time in all these years she had spoken to him so harshly.

Sebastian Hastings was momentarily stunned, his gaze darkening. This woman dared to speak to him like this? But he quickly realized what was happening. His throat tightened slightly, and a trace of loss flickered through his heart.

His scorching gaze fixed on her, remembering the previous night. The corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

"How about selling yourself to me again tonight? Name your price. I'll satisfy you," he said, his imposing figure advancing step by step. His fair fingers gripped her delicate chin as he smiled evilly.

"I don't need to!" Ivy Winslow dodged nimbly, escaping his encirclement. The little color left in her face faded away until it was almost translucent. Her whole body trembled as she said harshly, "Just give me the certificate."

Jerk. Even with the divorce, he still had to humiliate her.

Loving him was the curse of her life.

The fragile woman before him was avoiding him like the plague. Sebastian Hastings found this strangely unsettling.

Women always threw themselves at him. But the woman before him, though she appeared soft and weak, was always calm and indifferent, like still water, in front of him. It irritated him.

He slowly walked to his desk, picked up the divorce certificate that had been prepared long ago, and handed it to Ivy Winslow. "Remember," he said coldly, "if you tell Grandma about what happened between us, I will never forgive you. And you know what I'm capable of."

Was that a threat? Ivy Winslow shuddered involuntarily. Grandma was the person Sebastian Hastings respected most. Back then, he had married Ivy only on Grandma's orders.

She turned back, her bright eyes blinking slightly, holding an unyielding light. Her icy eyes, deep as a pool, were full of resolve. She smiled calmly, raised an eyebrow, and said, "Sebastian Hastings, you think too highly of yourself. From now on, we're strangers. I have no interest in your family affairs."

She snatched the divorce certificate from his hand, turned, and left, leaving him a resolute back view.

The moment the elevator doors closed, the veneer of strength Ivy Winslow had been projecting crumbled instantly. She was so weak she could barely stand. She crouched down, buried her face in her hands, and tears streamed forth.

Her heart still ached, didn't it?

Don't bow to fate. Rise to meet adversity head-on! Her father Richard Winslow's words echoed in her ears.

Ivy Winslow's pained, numb heart slowly began to regain feeling.

A dazzling light pierced the air as the elevator doors opened slowly.

A tall figure slipped inside. A familiar, intense masculine scent filled the cramped elevator space, startling her into looking up.

Sebastian Hastings' grim, handsome face appeared before her.

Only stunned for an instant, Ivy Winslow tried to flee in panic.

Sebastian Hastings' strong hand quickly grasped her arm. The woman's arm was so thin, it seemed a tug might break it. Instinctively, he softened his grip, trapping her against his chest. Their breaths mingled. Her unique, faint, delicate fragrance filled his nose, stirring his mind, yet a hint of annoyance rose within him. She was clearly such a fragile woman, yet her temperament was prouder and colder than anyone's.

"Grandma's 90th birthday is in two weeks. She explicitly wants to see you. I hope you can come," Sebastian Hastings said, hesitating, his tone somewhat stiff.

Was he asking her for a favor?

Damn woman. He didn't know what tricks she had used to bewitch Grandma so completely. Today, Grandma had personally called and said she wanted to see Ivy at her birthday banquet.

He respected Grandma greatly and didn't want to go against her wishes, especially since she was already ninety. That was why he had specifically asked Ivy to come get the divorce certificate – actually, it was also to ask this favor of her. After all, they were already divorced.

"Let go of me." Ivy Winslow's delicate brows furrowed slightly. She turned her face away, trying to avoid his breath. Sorrow welled up inside her. In all their years of marriage, he had never voluntarily come this close to her. Now that they were divorced, he was grabbing at her for his grandmother's sake. "You… should take Gina Moretti. You can't wrap paper around fire."

The woman's beautiful face was pale and gaunt. The light in her eyes was despairing and cold. Her words were indifferent and resolute.

She was sad, she was despairing. In the moment the elevator doors opened, Sebastian Hastings had seen a fragile, grieving woman. All these years, he had treated her like air, never paying her any attention. But just now, her sorrow had been so real.

His hand loosened unconsciously. He stepped back.

Ivy Winslow fled from him, running away.

He watched her walk away unsteadily, stumbling, her fragile back looking as if it might collapse at any moment.

Sebastian Hastings felt a sudden surge of worry and concern. Would she be alright? Had something happened to her?

Serves her right, damn woman! Let her grieve and suffer. The sudden hatred rising from the depths of his heart quickly masked that inexplicable flicker of concern.