Goodbye, My Love

Chapter 3---Are You Serious?

Madeline Cook carefully chose a red off-the-shoulder ruffled dress from her wardrobe. Her chestnut-brown hair, cascading just above her waist, was styled into loose waves that draped softly down her back. Her face bore an hour's worth of meticulous makeup, and the bold crimson lipstick—perfectly matched to her dress—gave her an aura so commanding it seemed to fill the entire street.

"Iry, I'm off to get a divorce."

"Master, leave behind the wrong one, and you'll meet someone better."

Madeline arched a brow. "Thank you, Iry. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Master."

She arrived at the courthouse at 8:55 a.m., five minutes before opening time.

No sooner had she stepped out than Wendy Taylor called: "Maddie, have you reached the courthouse yet?"

"Just arrived."

"Then I'll give you an early wish—break free from that jerk and embrace a brand new life!"

A familiar black sedan pulled up nearby. Madeline had no patience for chatter. "Mr. Cook is here. I'll talk to you later."

"Alright, alright! Listen, I've prepared a huge surprise for you today—guaranteed to make you shine in front of Mr. Cook!"

"I hope it's not a nightmare."

She hung up and watched Mr. Cook approach, offering a cold smile. "Good morning, Mr. Cook. Sorry to trouble you."

She handed him the divorce agreement. "I know you don't believe me. Here—identical to the last one. Just sign it. Once the doors open, we go in, finish the paperwork, and you're finally free of me."

For the first time, the impassive mask on Mr. Cook's face flickered. "Are you serious?"

Madeline held his gaze, silent. After a long pause, she suddenly laughed. "Mr. Cook, everything I've ever said to you has been dead serious."

It's just that he never believed her.

Mr. Cook hated the way she was looking at him. She had never looked at him like this before.

"The door's open."

If she wanted a divorce, then so be it. Divorce it was. It would save him the trouble later.

At that moment, Madeline heard her heart c***k with a sharp *snap*.

When he asked, "Are you serious?"—she actually felt a flicker of hope. Hope that he'd stop her, that he'd refuse. But all he said was, "The door's open."

Mr. Cook truly was a master of indifference.

She wiped the smile from her face and walked straight into the courthouse.

There were many couples there to get married, but only the two of them had come so early to get divorced.

Yet Madeline was dressed in a way that made her look anything but a divorcée. The staff inside gave them a skeptical glance as they sat down. "Amicable divorce?"

"Yes."

Without a word, she shoved the prepared documents through the window.

Divorce was even faster than marriage. The agreement was already signed—only the courthouse seal remained.

In less than five minutes, they walked out.

Mr. Cook led the way. From the moment he received the divorce certificate, he hadn't spared her a single glance.

Madeline stopped, watching his retreating figure, her heart a storm of pain.

Suddenly, a Maserati pulled up beside the curb. The luxury car was so striking it shattered her sorrow, drawing her gaze irresistibly.

The door swung open, and a man in sunglasses stepped out.

Madeline recognized him instantly—but before she could react, he called her name: "Madeline."

It was Xavier Dorrington—the young heartthrob who had skyrocketed to fame last year with a historical web drama.

Tall and long-limbed, Xavier Dorrington closed the distance in just a few strides. "Congratulations on your freedom and fresh start. Sis. Wendy sent me to pick you up."

Madeline felt a headache coming on. "If Wendy's lost her mind, do you have to follow? Didn't your new movie just get leaked? Running around like this—do you want even more rumors?"

"Sis. Jenkins, don't be mad! Sis. Wendy said the moment you divorced Mr. Cook, the Cook family would likely release the news. We need to control the narrative first—otherwise, you'll be labeled a discarded wife of a powerful family!"

Xavier looked righteous, but Madeline was both exasperated and amused. "Well then, I'm *so* grateful to both of you!"

No sooner had she spoken than a swarm of paparazzi surged forward.

Xavier reacted fast, pulling her into his arms. But his protection was clearly perfunctory—he deliberately left her face exposed.

Someone shoved her, and she crashed straight into Xavier's chest.

Xavier—idol to millions, with a face so devastatingly handsome—made her heart skip a beat or two, just on principle.

She hadn't had such an intimate embrace with Mr. Cook in their three years of marriage. Held like this, the faint scent of his bespoke cologne kept reminding her of his presence.

Her face burned. She tried to pull away, but Xavier suddenly wrapped one arm around her head, pressing her face into his chest. Her ear pressed against his steady heartbeat. Outside, the paparazzi shouted questions and snapped photos. Dazed, she was half-carried, half-dragged forward.

Inside the black sedan, Mr. Cook watched the scene outside, his dark eyes unblinking.

From the front seat, Hudson hesitated. "Mr. Cook, should we go help Ms. Jenkins?"

The moment the words left his mouth, Mr. Cook turned a cold gaze on him. "Do you enjoy meddling in other people's affairs?"

Hudson stiffened. "No, sir."

Speechless, he quickly turned to the driver. "Paul, drive."

Hudson couldn't help but think—was it his imagination, or had Mr. Cook's expression darkened just slightly?

Mr. Cook was indeed in a foul mood. His wife—no, *ex-wife*—had been divorced for less than ten minutes, and already she was entangled with another man outside the courthouse. If this got out, wouldn't people assume he'd been cheated on?

"Stop the car!"

Mr. Cook despised infidelity. Even more, he loathed the idea of being *thought* to have been cheated on.

"Get out and bring her here!"

Hudson was stunned, thinking he'd misheard. But when he turned and saw the man in the backseat—his gaze heavy, his presence dark—he scrambled out and rushed toward the two surrounded by reporters.