Quit Your Arrogance, I Got Another Man

Chapter 2

Elias snapped out of his trance and seized Thea's wrist with affection.

"Thea, since when do I make you cook?" he cooed.

The past rushed in—back when I couldn't even boil water. But one casual remark from him—"I love to taste your cooking"—had sent me scrambling to culinary classes.

My bloody fingers from botched knife work and burns from spitting oil—he never cared about them.

Just like he never noticed whether I liked shrimp, too.

A suffocating weight crushed my lungs. I bolted to the balcony for air.

Elias trailed after me, scowling.

"Rosalind, seriously? One drink with Thea, and you're giving me the death stare? Grow up—throwing fits at your age? If your mom figures us out, we're both screwed!"

Elias wanted no one to know about our relationship.

So, we hid our marriage like it was a dirty secret. Not a single relative knew we'd been sharing a bed all this time.

I took a drag, my tone sharp enough to slice glass.

"Let's divorce. I'm busy—marrying my junior next month."

His face went rigid—like I'd gut-punched him.

As he drew breath to lecture me, my mother barged in, propping up a sloshed Thea with glee.

"Elias, she's wasted and whining for you!"

Elias scooped Thea up without hesitation, his hand possessive on her waist.

Writing me off as drunk, he turned his head, speaking to my mom.

"Sis, get Rosalind some hangover cure."

Below, Elias and Thea kissed like starved animals—from curb to leather seats.

A bark of laughter escaped me.

Last life, after my public meltdown, I'd won the title of Mrs. Bennett—but none of the care.

While I planned our sham wedding feast, he flew abroad to pamper Thea.

When I burned with a 40°C fever, he was sharing his soul with her in some dive bar.

Even my pregnancy got only his icy shrug.

"Pop it out or don't—I couldn't care less."

When I went into labor, all it took was one word from Thea, and Elias jetted off with her to some fancy candlelit dinner abroad—at the city's highest restaurant, no less.

As I fought through a traumatic delivery, the doctors desperately called him.

His voice was glacial.

"Do whatever you want—I never wanted either of them anyway."

I died on that delivery table. He couldn't even be bothered to look back. In the end, my mother collected my body from the hospital.

The memory snapped back to the present. Pressing a hand to my aching chest, I glanced down at the still-locked couple below before turning sharply away.

What Elias didn't know was that my junior, Cedric Laurent, actually had real feelings for me.

Six months ago, Cedric had poured his heart out in a confession, but I'd just turned him down.

Now, my thumbs flew across my phone.

Rosalind: Cedric, help me stage this. Let's fake a wedding next month.

His reply came instantly. No hesitation. Just an immediate agreement to this ridiculous marriage.

I'd sworn never to see Elias again. Yet the very next morning, my mother thrust some souvenir into my arms and ordered me to his place.

The door swung open to reveal Thea—hair disheveled, neck dotted with love bites that trailed down beneath her sleeveless red dress.

She looked me up and down, deliberately pulling her hair up to flaunt every last mark.